Chapter 30 #2
Everything about this restaurant was what made me fall in love with reviewing.
It didn’t have a Michelin star. Celebrities weren’t trying to get reservations here.
The chef in the back wasn’t renowned on a global scale.
But none of that mattered. Not when the backbone of this place was the true definition of Brooklyn.
“James!” an older version of the woman in the picture I’d just looked at called out. She still had the same ethereal energy.
“Hi, Mom.” James leaned away from me to give the woman a kiss on the cheek as she wrapped her arms around her son.
“I thought you told me you weren’t bringing anyone?” she asked, her voice tight as she gave me a smile.
James’s mother had fair skin and white-blonde hair. Her skin was flawless, and she wore her age like it was its own accessory. She was the kind of woman I used to watch walk out of Bergdorf Goodman’s in college with their arms weighed down with bags.
“I said I wasn’t bringing Sebastian, Mom.” I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen James blush so much in one evening. It was charming knowing he was just as nervous about this situation as I was.
“So now I have to explain myself when I ask if you’re bringing guests? How do you think she feels? Walking in here with your entire family staring at her like she’s a zoo animal? Did you even tell her we’d all be here? I swear, I thought I raised you better than that.”
“Eloise, come on now. You’re only going to make it worse.” The man that looked like an older version of James reached for Eloise to return her to her seat.
“Giacomo, Eloise is right. I would have made something for her to take home.” An older woman at the table glared at James’s father.
“We’re at a restaurant, Ma. She’ll probably have food to take home already.”
I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole as they all looked at me expectantly. My family was much quieter and much more reserved than the bunch in front of me.
My lips opened, then they closed. Then opened again. I wasn’t sure how many times I tried to find anything to say to these people that James cared about so fiercely, but nothing came out.
James rescued me.
“Everyone, this is Hallie,” James said, his voice a blend of pride and something softer.
He went around the table, introducing his mother, Eloise. His father, Giacomo. His uncle, Antonio, or Tony. His younger cousin, Emilia, who had just come from a volleyball game. And his grandmother, Giulietta.
Eloise waved me over to the open seat beside her, the previous irritation she’d directed at James gone, replaced by genuine enthusiasm.
“Hallie, it’s a pleasure to have you join tonight for family dinner.
” Then she dropped her voice to a stage whisper as I took the seat next to her.
“I’m sorry about my son. I think he believes having us unprepared for his surprises is better, so we don’t have an entire list of questions prepared.
” She rolled her eyes. “Men. What can we do? But I don’t blame him.
He’s never brought a woman to the restaurant before, much less to a family dinner. So, you must be special.”
James slid into the seat beside me and casually draped his arm across my chair, like we did this all the time. “This isn’t family dinner , by the way,” he added with a quick glance in my direction. “That’s on Wednesdays at Nonna’s house. This is just dinner with the family, totally different.”
“And you brought her?” Emilia asked. “Are you two like together?”
“Oh, we’re just—” I started to say, unsure how to define what this is.
“Dating,” James cut me off, leaning around me to announce for the table. “We are dating. Just thought I’d get that out of the way before the salad is served.”
“We could have guessed that the moment you brought her here, James,” an older man grumbled as he walked up to the table with two bowls of salad in his hands. “I’m Lorenzo. James’s grandfather.”
I smiled nervously. Now it was my turn to turn the same shade of red as the baskets of tomatoes that were visible in the kitchen.
While James wasn’t lying, I wasn’t sure how I felt leading his entire family to believe we were serious.
Because while I was wishing we were, neither of us had properly broached that conversation yet.
“Hallie,” I said, offering a polite smile.
“I think I’m the last one to join, so you won’t have to introduce yourself anymore.
” Lorenzo took the seat across from us, but not before giving Giulietta a sweet kiss.
Then he poured a glass of wine from one of the bottles on the table and offered it to me.
“If you’re anything like me, you’re going to need this to get through this dinner. ”
James’s shoulders shook with silent laughter beside me as he watched me accept the glass. Under the table, his hand found my thigh, his fingers giving a firm squeeze that sent a jolt up my spine.
“I’m sorry,” he leaned over to whisper in my ear.
“Don’t be,” I whispered back.
There was something magical about being surrounded by the people who had shaped James—who had helped build the person sitting beside me now. The warmth, the noise, the stories passed across the table like bread baskets—it made me feel like, just maybe, there could be room for me here too.