Chapter 26
Chapter
Twenty-Six
ZACK
I chose La Pergola, a three-Michelin-starred restaurant perched on a hill overlooking Rome. The dining room is bathed in soft golden light, and the glass walls offer sweeping views of the Eternal City. The domes and spires of ancient Rome shimmer against the azure sky, while manicured terraces below us frame the scene with a painterly elegance. It’s the kind of place that demands your attention, but my focus remains squarely on Jenny.
She’s sitting across from me, her fingers nervously tracing the rim of her water glass. The soft curls of her hair frame her face, and the afternoon sun dances across her skin, making her look almost ethereal. She looks different due to the styling from the photoshoot, but it just makes me all the more realize just how gorgeous she is.
There is however something off…her usual brightness is dimmed, and she’s quieter than I expected.
After last night, I’m not surprised, but I do want to know…more than anything…what is now going through her head.
“How was the shoot?” I ask, my voice even, measured.
Jenny glances up at me, offering a small smile. “It went well.”
Simple and curt, and it sets me on edge, I’m worried, all other concerns aside, that I might have hurt her.
The waiter arrives with our first course…delicate plates of handmade ravioli drizzled with truffle oil. I nod my thanks, but the sight of the food barely registers. My mind is elsewhere.
Just like me, she’s distracted. It’s obvious. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t too. Last night lingers between us like smoke…thick, impossible to ignore. I lean back slightly, my fingers brushing the edge of my glass.
“How do you feel about last night?” I ask, my voice steady.
Jenny stiffens, her fork hovering mid-air before she sets it down. Her hazel eyes meet mine briefly before darting away. “I… I don’t know,” she says softly, her voice almost drowned out by the distant murmur of other diners.
"I don’t mean to put you on the spot," I say, leaning forward slightly. "But it’s important to me that you’re okay, especially since it was your first time."
“I’m okay,” she says as she tries her best to seem engaged with her food.
I clear my throat, the tension in the air thick as I try to approach the subject delicately. “Have you thought about… birth control?” The words feel heavier than I anticipated, even as I keep my tone neutral.
Her head snaps up, her hazel eyes widening like I’ve just asked something far more intimate. She’s startled, maybe even embarrassed, and for a second, I wonder if I’ve overstepped.
“I…” she starts, but her voice falters. She looks down quickly, her fingers fidgeting with the napkin in her lap. Her cheeks flush, and I can see how much the question has thrown her off. “I’ve never really thought about it before,” she admits, so quietly it’s almost a whisper.
I nod, keeping my expression composed even though her vulnerability hits harder than I expect. It’s not just the situation…it’s her. The way she’s trying to process everything while still grappling with the enormity of last night.
“If it would make you more comfortable,” I say gently, keeping my voice as steady as I can, “I can help you arrange something. I don’t want this to be another thing you have to worry about.”
She shakes her head slightly, her fingers tensing around the edge of her napkin. “There will be no need for that,” she says finally, her voice steady but distant, the implication sharp and deliberate.
Her words settle over me like a weight. There will be no need for that.
I sit back slightly, my gaze fixed on her face as she avoids my eyes, her attention resolutely on her plate. It’s not the words themselves that sting…it’s the implication beneath them. She doesn’t expect…or want…this to happen again. My chest tightens in a way I wasn’t prepared for, and I realize just how much last night had meant to me, against all logic, against all my better judgment.
I take a sip of water, letting the cool liquid ground me. “I see,” I say finally, my voice steady, though the air between us feels heavier now. “I just… didn’t want you to feel alone in dealing with this. That’s all.”
Jenny’s eyes flicker up to mine for a moment, but she quickly looks away again. “I appreciate it,” she murmurs, her tone soft but evasive. She’s retreating, pulling back into herself, and it sets my teeth on edge…not because I blame her, but because I don’t know how to reach her right now.
The waiter interrupts, clearing away our plates and replacing them with the next course…a beautifully plated sea bass with a delicate citrus glaze. Normally, I’d savor a meal like this, but right now, it might as well be cardboard. I barely register the aroma as I pick up my fork and knife, cutting into the fish mechanically.
“I know this is complicated,” I say after a moment, my voice quieter now. “And I don’t want to make it harder for you. But I think we should talk about it…about us.”
Her fork stills mid-cut, and she looks up at me, her expression guarded. “What is there to talk about?” she asks, her voice carefully neutral. “We both know this was… complicated from the start.”
I exhale slowly, setting down my utensils. “Jenny, last night wasn’t just some random mistake. At least, not for me.”
Her eyes widen slightly at my admission, and for a second, I think I see a flicker of something…uncertainty, maybe even longing. But it’s gone as quickly as it appears, replaced by the same guarded expression she’s been wearing since we sat down.
“It’s just…” She hesitates, struggling to find the words. “You’re Brett’s brother, Zack. And I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel about that. Or about any of this.”
“You’re not cheating on him,” I say firmly. “Brett is with Elizabeth. They’re in a relationship. What happened between us doesn’t change that.”
Her lips press into a thin line, and she looks away again, her gaze drifting toward the panoramic view outside the window. The domes and spires of Rome glimmer in the sunlight, but her focus seems distant, lost in her own thoughts.
“Are you trying to discourage me from him or encourage me toward you?” she asks suddenly, her tone sharp but not unkind. She’s testing me, searching for something, and I’m not sure what.
“Which would you prefer?” I counter, leaning forward slightly, my voice steady but edged with something I can’t quite name. “I don’t want to push you into anything, Jenny. Last night… it meant something to me. But if it didn’t mean the same to you, I won’t?—”
“I didn’t say that,” she cuts in quickly, her cheeks flushing. She looks down at her plate, her fingers gripping the edge of the table. “I just… I don’t know what to do with it.”
I hesitate, the vulnerability in her voice striking something deep within me. “ "You don’t have to do anything with it. Last night, you were tipsy," I say carefully, gauging her reaction.
Her eyes snap up to meet mine, sharp and unyielding. “But you weren’t,” she says pointedly, her tone carrying a weight that leaves me momentarily stunned.
I sit back, caught off guard by the directness of her words. “So… you regret it,” I say slowly, the words tasting bitter as they leave my mouth.
She exhales shakily, her hands twisting together in her lap. “No,” she whispers finally, so softly I almost don’t hear her. Her cheeks flush deeper, and she looks away again, her voice trembling. “I don’t regret it. It happened. That’s it. Full stop. It shouldn’t happen again.”
“It shouldn’t happen again, or you don’t want it to happen again?” I counter, my tone calm but deliberate.
She doesn’t respond, her silence lingering between us like a heavy weight.
“Okay,” I say finally, leaning back slightly. “Like you said, it happened. That’s it. Full stop. It’s not a secret, but if you insist specifically on keeping it as one, then no one will hear about it from me.”
She resumes eating, her movements slow and deliberate. It takes a while before she speaks again, her voice quiet but steady. “I’d appreciate that. Thank you.”
I decide then and there to completely remove any emotional weight from the conversation. If this is what she wants, I can match her resolve.
“Since it is a secret, and just between us,” I say, setting my fork down, “I don’t see why it can’t continue during our time here. We expect nothing from each other. No rules are being broken, so… keep your mind open.”
At this, I pick up my flute of wine and don’t stop until I’ve completely drained the glass. The burn is satisfying, but not nearly enough to distract me from the fire simmering between us.