Page 49 of Let’s Give ‘Em Pumpkin to Talk About

I recall how the day began. Ryan, Alice, Jeremy, and I arrived at Venice Marco Polo Airport in the afternoon, took a taxi to Piazzale Roma, and then a water bus to the historical center. We had fun all the way, mesmerized by what we could see of the city during the boat ride to the Rialto station.

We got off there, right next to the magnificent Ponte di Rialto, the oldest bridge on the Grand Canal. A ten-minute walk to the hotel turned into almost half an hour as we got lost and stopped to look at shop windows and take photos.

Everything seemed perfect. I was having a great time with Jeremy like we hadn’t had in a while because of our busy routines, and I was excited to finally be moving in the direction of my dreams. This would be the idyllic weeklong break I needed to get inspired.

I want La Veneziana to capture the spirit of Italian Venice, so coming here felt ideal.

We checked into Hotel Marchesi and got ready for dinner.

I’d thought we might spontaneously find a place to eat, but Ryan had reserved a table for the four of us at a restaurant a two-minute Google search could have told him was a tourist trap.

I said he should have let me take care of the food, and I’m pretty sure this offended him.

He’d said coldly, “You can choose next time,” and I got annoyed he thought I was a snob because I always comment on the food.

“It’s hard to please you,” he’d often say.

Despite knowing I’m a chef, he never understood that food is my passion.

High standards have nothing to do with arrogance.

Many people don’t comprehend that quality and fanciness are not synonyms. Some of the best meals I’ve had in my life were cheap and simple, sold in street food markets.

I like supporting the right businesses. I enjoy eating what is made with care, so of course I always have a comment.

I have lists of restaurants I want to visit in cities all over the world, even places I might never get to.

After the mediocre dinner, we’d walked around the city, enjoying its glorious nightly mystique, and ended up at a bar. That’s when things get blurry.

The four of us had cocktails, and suddenly, we were partying.

We hopped to another bar, which somehow turned into a club, and with the loud music and the crowd that only got bigger, younger, and sweatier, we lost each other.

I found Jeremy, but Alice and Ryan were gone.

Alice then texted Jeremy, saying she was tired and going back to the hotel.

But Ryan didn’t text me. His phone had died—or that’s what I assumed.

I left the club with Jeremy when we were done with the loud disco music.

It should have taken us about half an hour to go from Santa Croce to the Rialto bridge by foot, but we lost our bearings and ended up at Piazza San Marco, where we got distracted by how breathtaking the historical buildings were when lit by the evening lights.

Jeremy and I sat on a bench to enjoy the view and stayed there for quite some time—then once again got lost in the labyrinth of Venice. When we finally arrived at Hotel Marchesi, Ryan and Alice had already taken their belongings and fled. Together, apparently.

Looking back, I see their fling was probably not something that started tonight. They were always cozy—chatting and laughing at each other’s jokes. Maybe nothing had happened until tonight, but the feelings had been there. God, I was so blind…

“They were in love with each other, and we didn’t realize it,” I say to Jeremy, feeling queasy after a few generous sips of negroni. I throw a couple of almonds into my mouth to soothe my stomach and keep speaking while chewing. “I mean, they work together. It started there, of course.”

Jeremy and I met Ryan and Alice when we were all sitting at the same table at a mutual friend’s wedding. After Alice started dating Jeremy, she landed a job as the head of investor relations at the tech company where Ryan is the CFO. The four of us have hung out together many times since.

Despite my background in business administration, I was bored to death whenever Ryan and Alice started talking about their corporate life.

Jeremy, a chemical engineer at a pharmaceutical company, would also roll his eyes.

We’d then find another subject to discuss while Alice and Ryan rambled on about recent market fluctuations and upcoming shareholder meetings.

The more I think about it, the more stupid Jeremy and I seem for dating people who had little to nothing in common with us.

That’s why we keep getting hurt and finding comfort in each other’s company.

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve gotten drunk with him after one of us suffered heartbreak.

But this is the first time it’s happened to both of us at once.

“Have they been cheating on us for long, or did Venice trigger the whole thing?”

I shrug. “I’d rather not know. It’s over anyway. We have to move on.”

It sucks that I was with someone for so long and now I’m set back, having to start my search for love all over again. I know, however, I should look at this not as a waste of precious time but as an experience that taught me a lot.

I’m wiser now. I know what I want in a partner.

He should be clear about wanting a future with me.

His goals must fit alongside mine. We need to view life in a similar way.

And most importantly, he can’t disrupt my plans but must complement them.

I only want to be in a relationship if it’s leading to the successful-restaurant-owner-in-a-happy-marriage scenario I’ve projected for myself.

Jeremy’s phone dings. He looks at the screen. The laugh that comes out of his mouth startles me more than a profanity would.

“What. The. Freak.” His voice is a lot lower this time, lost between his chuckles of disbelief.

“What? Did Alice write to you? What did she say?” I take the phone out of his hand and read the message.

You two are meant for each other. Don’t ignore that.

I look at Jeremy, my mouth open in a puzzled smile. “What is she talking about? Is she referring to me? Us? ”

Oh God. My stomach spins. Alice thinks we are in love.

I rub my face. I’m not in love with Jeremy. But that might not be obvious to someone who observes our friendship from the outside.

We are each other’s first call. We know everything there is to know about one another. I complete his sentences. He knows what I need before I ask for it. I’ll brave any traffic jam if he needs help, company, or emotional support, and I know he will always be there for me too.

Even now our minds are in sync, his wide eyes telling me he gets why Alice mistook our special connection for romantic love.

My throat is a desert, and when I eat an almond to avoid another sip of alcohol, and thus avoid puking, I feel like I’m swallowing a cactus. “She should know we grew up together and that’s why we’re so close,” I say.

“It’s just her guilty conscience, Daisy,” Jeremy replies, drinking his martini, also looking like he is swallowing sand.

“They decided they belong with each other, and now they think we should do a full couple swap, as if we’re in a soap opera where they’re the writers and this is the best happy ending they could come up with. ”

I tilt my head, looking up as a new wave of understanding washes over me. Jeremy isn’t entirely wrong, I believe. But there’s more to it.

Alice and I have a similar taste in movies and books. I can totally see where she’s coming from…

I drink the rest of my negroni, thinking fuck it, I’m going to puke anyway.

Then I straighten my posture and face my best friend.

He might have watched a few Mexican telenovelas—to learn Spanish, he’d claimed—but he’d never read a romance novel and avoided streaming rom-coms as if clicking on them would make his screen explode.

“Are you familiar with the friends-to-lovers trope, Jeremy?”

“The what?” He frowns, his face still red after all the alcohol and strong emotions.

“In romances, it’s common that best friends fall in love with each other,” I explain. “They have a beautiful friendship, then something big happens that makes them realize they’re meant for one another, and they live happily ever after.”

His ginger eyebrows rise behind the black frames of his glasses. “And Alice thinks that’s going to happen with us just because I’m a hetero man and you’re a hetero woman, and we spend a lot of time together?”

I shrug. “It wouldn’t be the first time people have thought there’s something between us.”

Strangers often assume we’re a couple just because we hang out like couples do and are physically comfortable with each other.

Some of my coworkers are convinced we’re dating—or will date soon.

Even my dad had made that assumption. In fact, he once told me I should give Jeremy a chance. Dad loved Jeremy like a son.

The only person who recognizes the truth and is sure Jeremy and I would never be romantically involved is my brother. Nick knows both of us too well.

My brother knows that in our twenty years of friendship, Jeremy and I have never looked at each other with even a slight flare of yearning.

Nick knows that despite us having similar principles and sharing a few passions—such as food, alternative rock, stand-up comedy, beach strolls, and road trips—Jeremy and I have very different personalities and are not each other’s type.

“That’s stupid,” Jeremy mutters, then raises his voice and his arms. “Can men and women not be friends or what?”

“Harry from When Harry Met Sally doesn’t think so. He tells Sally that men and women can’t be friends because…” Well, I don’t have to say “sex” out loud and put that between us. Or is it already there? Have we been dancing around the subject all these years?