Chapter 13 The Secret Dinner
Sophia had one hour before her shift. One real hour, not the kind where she opened her textbook, checked one message, answered one text, looked up one thing for class, remembered Vinny existed, smiled at her phone, and then somehow had nine minutes left.
A real hour. She sat at the corner table in Bella Luna with her laptop open, her notes spread out, and her phone facedown beside an untouched glass of water.
Victoria had stopped by once, looked at the phone, looked at Sophia, and said, “Acceptable.”
Gia had stopped by next, looked at the notes, looked at the phone, and said, “This looks boring. Proud of you.”
Antonia had walked past with invoices and said nothing.
From Antonia, it was close to approval. Vinny hadn’t come out of the kitchen.
That was the part Sophia noticed most. He knew she was there.
He had seen her when she came in. He had smiled, started to say something, then looked at her laptop and stopped himself.
“Study first,” he had said.
Then he had gone back into the kitchen. No joke, no extra comment, and no lingering near the table.
Sophia had watched him disappear through the kitchen door and wanted to be annoyed that he was doing exactly what she needed.
Dating was strange. Not dating. Seeing each other.
Whatever they were calling this middle space where he kissed her like he meant it, brought food like he remembered everything, and still wasn’t her boyfriend.
Yet. No. Not yet. Too much. Sophia turned back to her notes and highlighted the next section.
Language development. Classroom examples. Not just definitions.
She wrote:
A child says “goed” instead of “went” because she is applying a grammar rule she has learned.
Then she smiled because that one she actually understood.
She smiled because she understood that kind of progress.
Her phone buzzed again, and she still didn’t touch it.
A shadow fell across the table. Sophia looked up, expecting Victoria.
Brett Anderson stood beside the chair across from her.
Brett was the last person she expected. Brett always looked like he belonged somewhere quieter and more expensive than Bella Luna.
Even at Bella Luna, where sauce splattered and Gia said alarming things near customers, he somehow stayed polished.
Today he wore dark slacks, a pale blue shirt, and the careful expression of a man who had rehearsed something and hated that he needed to say it aloud.
“Sophia,” he said. “Do you have a minute?”
Sophia glanced at her notes. Then at Brett’s face. This wasn’t casual.
“Yes.”
He looked toward the kitchen. “Is Vinny available?”
Sophia’s stomach gave a little jump.
“Probably.”
“Could you get him?”
“Is something wrong?”
Brett looked almost offended by the idea that he might arrive with anything obviously wrong.
“No. Nothing is wrong.”
That didn’t help.
Sophia closed her laptop halfway and stood. “All right.”
She went through the kitchen door. Vinny was at the prep counter slicing basil.
Antonia stood near the stove, talking to the dishwasher.
Gia was nowhere visible, which meant she was either in the dining room or behind someone learning things she shouldn’t know.
Vinny looked up when Sophia came in. His smile started.
Then he saw her face and stopped. “What?”
“Brett wants to talk to us.”
Vinny put down the knife. “Us?”
“Yes.”
“Us as in you and me?”
“That is usually what us means.”
“Is he mad?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Does Brett get mad, or does he just get colder?”
Sophia almost smiled. “I don’t know.”
Antonia turned from the stove. “Brett is here?”
Sophia froze. Bad. Probably. Maybe not. Brett came to Bella Luna often. Still, something about his expression had felt secret.
“Um,” Sophia said.
Vinny saw the panic hit her face and stepped in. “He’s in the dining room. Asked for me and Sophia.”
Antonia’s eyes narrowed just enough to prove she was Antonia.
“For what?”
Vinny looked at Sophia. Sophia looked back. Neither of them knew.
“Should we ask?” Vinny said.
Antonia studied both of them.
Then wiped her hands on a towel. “Go.”
That seemed too easy.
Vinny clearly thought so too, because he said, “That’s it?”
Antonia lifted an eyebrow. “Did you want a longer instruction?”
“No.”
“Then go.”
“Yes, chef.”
Sophia and Vinny walked back into the dining room together.
Brett had moved to the table farthest from the kitchen, the one near the wall where Antonia sometimes sat late at night with receipts.
His posture was straight. His hands were folded loosely on the table.
He looked like he was about to negotiate peace between countries.
Vinny leaned slightly toward Sophia. “This feels serious.”
Sophia whispered back, “You think?”
Brett looked up. “Please sit.”
Vinny pulled out Sophia’s chair first, then seemed to realize he had done it and looked at her like he was checking. She sat. It was fine. Nice. Not a problem. He sat beside her. Brett glanced toward the kitchen door before speaking. That made Sophia nervous.
“I need to ask both of you for help,” Brett said.
Vinny straightened. “All right.”
Sophia nodded.
Brett looked at Sophia first, then Vinny. “I am going to propose to Antonia.”
Sophia stopped breathing. Vinny’s mouth opened. No sound came out. For once.
Brett’s gaze sharpened. “I assume that means surprise.”
Sophia pressed both hands over her mouth. “Yes.”
Vinny pointed at him. “You’re proposing?”
“Yes.”
“To Antonia?”
Brett blinked. “Obviously.”
“Right. Sorry. Brain needed a second.”
Sophia lowered her hands. “Brett.”
His expression changed then. Softened. Only a little, but enough.
“I want it to be here,” he said. “At Bella Luna. Privately. After hours. Monday, if possible.”
Sophia’s chest tightened. Here. Of course here. Not a ballroom, not a rooftop restaurant, and not something expensive and cold. Bella Luna. Antonia’s place. Her grandmother’s recipes. Her tables. Her kitchen. Her walls.
“That’s perfect,” Sophia said.
Brett seemed to have been waiting to hear that from someone who belonged to this room.
“Decent.”
Vinny rubbed both hands over his thighs. “What do you need from us?”
“The dinner,” Brett said. “I need help planning it. I can arrange flowers, music, the ring, timing, anything logistical. But the food needs to be right, and if I try to do that alone, I will make it too formal.”
Vinny stared at him. Sophia did too. Brett looked uncomfortable.
“I know that about myself,” he said.
Vinny said, “It was healthy.”
Sophia nudged his foot under the table.
Brett’s mouth twitched. “Thank you.”
Vinny cleared his throat. “Sorry.”
“I’m asking you because Antonia trusts you in the kitchen,” Brett said.
Vinny went still. Sophia looked at him. That landed hard. She saw it in his face. The quick shift from joking to calm.
“She trusts Antonia,” Brett added, looking at Sophia. “And Antonia trusts you more than you may realize.”
Sophia’s throat tightened.
Brett leaned forward slightly. “I need this to feel like her. Not like an event I purchased.”
Sophia almost smiled. Only Brett could make that sound romantic. Sophia liked him more for it.
Vinny nodded slowly. “All right.”
“You would cook?” Brett asked.
Vinny’s eyes widened. “Me?”
“Yes.”
Sophia watched Vinny’s face change through three different emotions. Honored. Panicked. Terrified.
“I mean,” Vinny said, “Antonia usually—”
“Antonia can’t cook her own proposal dinner,” Brett said.
“Right. Fair.”
“I will ask Antonella for input,” Brett continued. “But I thought both of you might be the right bridge.”
Sophia sat up straighter. “Antonella?”
“If she is willing,” Brett said. “I know Antonia would want her included somehow.”
Sophia nodded. “She would.”
Vinny was still looking at the table like the wood had started speaking.
Sophia touched his knee lightly under the table.
His gaze snapped to hers. Just for a second.
You can do this, she tried to say without saying it.
His shoulders lowered. Brett saw. He definitely saw.
But he didn’t comment, because Brett had manners and some survival instinct.
“There is one more thing,” Brett said.
Sophia looked back at him.
“Gia can’t know.”
From the bar, Gia’s voice called, “Can’t know what?”
All three of them froze. Brett closed his eyes.
Vinny whispered, “Summoned.”
Sophia turned. Gia stood by the bar holding a tray of clean glasses, eyes narrowed.
Brett recovered first. “A vendor pricing matter.”
Gia stared at him. Then at Sophia. Then at Vinny. Then back at Brett.
“I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t need to,” Brett said.
“That makes me believe you less.”
Vinny looked impressed. “That tracks.”
Gia came closer. “What are we hiding?”
“Nothing,” Sophia said.
Too fast.
Gia’s gaze shot to her. “Oh, honey. Never lie for rich men. You’re bad at it.”
Sophia’s face warmed. “I am not lying.”
“You are glowing with guilt.”
Vinny leaned back in his chair. “Gia, if we tell you, will you keep it secret?”
“Yes.”
Brett looked alarmed.
Vinny added, “For forty seconds?”
Gia gasped. “That is insulting.”
Brett said, “And accurate.”
Gia pointed at him with the tray. “You have become too comfortable here.”
Antonia’s voice came from the kitchen doorway. “Gia.”
Gia turned quickly. “Yes?”
“Glasses.”
Gia looked at the tray in her hands as if it had betrayed her. “Fine. But I know something is happening.”
“Many things happen,” Antonia said.
“That isn’t comforting.”
“Better.”
Gia walked backward toward the bar, eyes still on them. “I will find out.”
Brett waited until she was out of earshot. Then he looked at Vinny.
“That is why Gia can’t know.”
Vinny nodded. “Fair case.”
Sophia tried not to laugh.
Brett continued, “I was hoping to speak with Antonella tomorrow afternoon. Sophia, do you think you could come? Vinny as well, if his schedule permits.”