Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Matteo
“Okay, Chef. What’s going on?”
It’s Tuesday morning, and I’m pulling ingredients to prep for lunch when both Val and Nicola corner me in the storage room.
“With what?” I grab a bag of flour from the top shelf.
“Matteo.” Val is using her stern voice. “You were whistling.” And then, as if I didn’t hear her the first time, she repeats, “ Whistling .”
“So?” I frown. “Is that against the rules?” My cheeks are hot, and I wish they’d go bother someone else. I turn to go, but Nicola blocks the exit with her hand up against the door jamb.
She’s playfully glaring at me. “You really should just tell us because we’re going to find out.”
“There’s nothing to tell.” I’m not sure I’m being convincing.
“Don’t ever play poker, okay?” Val quips. “You’ll lose everything you have with that face.”
“It’s Iris, isn’t it?” Nicola says.
“No.” But even as I say the word, I know it’s not convincing. I push past Nicola but hear the tiny squeak that ekes out of both of them as they rush to follow me.
“Oh, my gosh, did something finally happen?” Nicola asks. “Please say yes! We placed bets on how long it would take, and if you tell me it happened within the last week, I’m totally going to win.”
I frown. “You placed bets?”
“I already lost,” Val says. “I thought you’d realize it two weeks ago.”
“Realize what?” I set the flour down at my workstation.
“That you’re falling for her,” Val says. “Like, really falling for her.”
“I am not.” I use an exasperated tone, but the truth is, I want to talk to them about Iris. I just . . . don’t know how. It’s been so long since I’ve had any romantic feelings to sort through, I don’t even know what to say.
Which is exactly why I want their help. I don’t know what I’m doing.
“Chef,” Nicola says. “You’ve been trying not to love that woman since she followed you to work weeks ago.”
“And then, you doubled down every time she showed up here—unannounced or otherwise.” Val’s expression is pointed.
“She’s just my neighbor. It’s not—” Their matching glares stop me, and I suck in a breath, certain I’m going to regret this. “Fine. Yes. I like her.”
The squeals sound a lot like screams this time.
I hold up both hands. “Nope. I’m not talking to you guys if you’re going to . . . do all that.” I scrunch my face in disapproval.
They start a smattering of Sorry! We won’t! We’ll be quiet! Tell us everything! And I turn toward my station. “I have to prep.”
The door swings open, and Bear walks in. “Whoa. What’s going on in here? ”
Val’s eyes go wide. “Teo. And IRIS ?—”
“What about them?” Bear’s like a lamp set on the dimmest setting.
“We don’t know yet,” Val hisses. “Stop talking so we can find out.”
He frowns and looks at me. “You and Iris, what? Like, finally . . .” He gives his shoulders an exaggerated shrug and widens his eyes.
I shrug back, as if to say, I mean, kind of ?
Bear nods and grunts a reply that says, Cool , then continues nodding, but in a she’s hot sort of way.
I pull a face— I know, dude .
“Oh my gosh, what is happening?” Nicola shakes her head. “It’s like some weird primal form of Morse code.”
“Are you two finished?” Val glares at Bear, and he walks away but not before he throws a thumbs-up over his head on the way out.
Both women turn the weight of their full attention back to me.
“Spill,” Nicola says.
I’m not getting out of this, that much is clear. “Fine. Yes. I like her. I kissed her. And . . . I told her about Aria. No, I don’t know what’s happening next. No, I’m not sure when I’ll see her again, and no, I don’t want to discuss it with either of you.”
More overlapping reactions— Wait! What? Whoa! I’ve got questions! Where is she now? Does she feel the same way?
And once the initial response dies down, Val goes still. “You told her about Aria?”
I nod.
“How’d it go?” Nic asks.
“It sucked,” I say. “It was like running through a crowd of people wearing nothing but an apron and having it broadcast on the internet. ”
“That’s oddly specific,” Nicola says.
“Recurring nightmare,” I say with a shrug. “But she was great. I mean, really great. I know she felt bad for me, but not in a pathetic way. It was like, all about me—not about her.”
Val groans. “Sad how many people don’t get that.”
“Remember Elise?” Nicola’s eyes go wide.
Val and I both groan.
“Who could forget?” Val says.
Elise was the first and last straw. She found out about Aria and decided to make a plan so she could “bring me back to life.” She wanted to document our entire relationship on social media and turn my pain into a launch for her “counseling” business.
Never mind that she had no education, apparently just putting it on social media makes you an expert.
“So,” Val says. “How are you feeling now?”
“Actually? Fine.”
Not fine.
I pull out a large pot and fill it with water.
“You’re freaking out, aren’t you?” Val asks.
“Good lord, yes.” I flick off the faucet and drop my head. “So bad.”
They jump into high gear, both of them poised and ready for action. Whatever problem I’m having, they’re going to solve it.
“What’s the problem? The main problem?” Nicola asks.
I set the pot on the stove and turn on the burner. “You know the main problem.” I look at Nicola, then at Val. “I don’t know if I can do this again.”
“Look, it’s totally normal to be wary,” Val says. “Anyone in your position would be.”
“But Iris is good. And good for you,” Nicola says. “She makes you smile. Smiling is not your default setting.”
I shoot her a look .
“Stop proving my point,” she quips.
“Plus,” Val says, “When you’re around her, you seem lighter. Happier.”
“Last week you came out and talked to the customers,” Nic chimes in. “You haven’t willingly done that in years.”
The door swings open, and Dante walks in, freezing at the sight of the three of us just standing there. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s great.” Nicola raises her eyebrows. “And you owe me twenty bucks.”
His face lights up. “Yeah! Get it, Chef!”
“Go back to work, Dante,” I say, a little sharper than I intend to. He doesn’t seem fazed. He gives me a peace sign and hits it on his chest twice as he backs out of the room.
“What does that even mean?” I frustratingly ask.
They both shrug, shaking their heads.
“You too. Back to work. We don’t need to stand here and talk about my love life,” I say.
“I kind of feel like we do,” Nicola says.
“We don’t.” I wave them off.
They look at each other again, and I wait for them to get the point. The subject is closed. At least for now.
Nicola sighs and walks away, but Val stays behind. “Just go slow, Tay. And remember—you deserve to be happy.”
As the commotion of the day resumes and I get back to work, I sit with that.
Do I really deserve to be happy? I was happy once. So happy.
Is anyone lucky enough to feel that way twice? And isn’t it selfish to want to?
As if by some cosmic coincidence, my phone dings and I see a text come in from my grandpa. He’s not great with texting and always prefers to talk on the phone . . . unless he’s sending a photo .
I open the message, and I’m met by his smiling face, off-center and slightly out of focus. It’s a selfie of him and Elena, and he’s grinning. In the background, I see a huge Italian spread, and I can practically taste the entire meal.
Underneath the image, Grandpa has texted:
Grandpa
I hope you know the joy of a beautiful night with beautiful company and a full belly. Let’s catch up this week! Elena says hello!
He’s sentimental, and it makes me smile.
And somehow, losing my grandma made him appreciate his time here on earth, while losing Aria made me resent mine.
Half a world away, and he’s still taking me to school.
I try to focus on the tasks in front of me, but I’m mostly counting down the hours until Iris is off work and I get to see her again.
When she shows up, Val and Nicola sweep her back into the storage room, probably to get the play-by-play of everything that happened. When Bear interrupts them, they push him out and slam the door. He looks at me, and we both shrug, because women will never make sense.
After another loud and raucous family dinner, I pull Iris into my office, close the door, and press her up against it. “To make sure nobody comes in.”
She smiles and wraps her arms up around my neck while my hands circle her waist and I kiss the heck out of her, because I’ve pretty much been thinking about her skin since I woke up this morning. My goal here is to leave her breathless and weak-kneed, but my plan backfires when I’m the one who has to pull away and calm myself down. “You’re . . . really good at that.”
“You’re really easy to kiss.” She grins. “But now you need to get to work, and I’m working on some art show details tonight.” Her eyes light up. “Hey, would you maybe cater it?”
“Cater an elementary school art show?” I ask.
“Yes! It would be amazing, I want it to feel sort of fancy for the kids,” I say. “Not like your usual cookies and punch kind of event.” She shrugs. “I want it to be special. High class. An experience!”
I love this about her. Most people would do the bare minimum of what’s expected of them, but that never occurs to Iris.
She is not halfway.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” She tilts her head and studies me.
“Just thinking those kids are lucky to have you,” I say.
“ Au contraire , my friend. I’m the lucky one,” she says. “They’re such great kids. I told them we’re going to dress fancy and eat like kings and queens.”
I smile. “Happy to make sure the food fits the occasion.”
“Yes!” She kisses me, quickly this time, and it’s so soft and familiar, it leaves me undone.
When she breaks contact, she gives me a quizzical look. “You good?”
I nod. “Really good.”
And I am.
Surprisingly good.
And I’m starting to wonder if that happiness my grandpa’s found after deep heartache might actually be available to me, too.