Chapter Thirty. La Dolce Vita
Chapter Thirty
LA DOLCE VITA
Friday was a bust. Sure, her tips were good, but after Drew’s call with the job update, she found it hard to focus. Her lack of attention wasn’t aided by Danny’s disappearance either. While they’d walked to Beau’s together that morning, she hadn’t encountered him since.
It was the first time the entire summer that she’d gone more than a few waking hours without seeing his dimpled smile.
Only when her shift wrapped up around four did she finally spot him, talking to Esme at the bar with a paper bag in hand.
He wished Esme a good night and followed Cam outside, where he motioned to his car.
When Cam climbed into the passenger seat, she asked, “Where were you today? Why is your car here?”
“Had some errands to run,” he replied with a shrug. “You hungry?”
“Yeah, I could eat.”
He grinned, saying nothing. As they arrived at his place, he parked and added, “Do me a favor and go sit at the picnic table. I have dinner upstairs.”
“Danny, you don’t have to—”
But he was off before she could finish. As requested, she rounded the triplex and Mrs. Adler’s vegetable garden, movements slow so she could take in the warm afternoon sunlight.
The picnic table sat in a patch of freshly mowed grass, a safe distance from the steep, rocky cliffs overlooking the water.
A cream-colored linen tablecloth covered the wood, and a pair of candles sat atop, accompanied by the same lighter she remembered from the gas station.
Cam sat down and lit the candles, relaxing as she inhaled the briny breeze and citronella scent.
Danny appeared moments later with a box. He joined her at the table, and when she tried to peek under the flap, he blocked her hand. “It’s a surprise,” he said.
“It’s dinner, right?”
“It’s more than that.” His fingertips tapped the cardboard. “You’ve seemed a bit out of it this week so … I wanted to do something special.”
Her heart hammered in her chest, blood rushing to her cheeks.
How did he always know when something was wrong?
“Earlier this summer,” he continued, “you told me you’d never been clubbing and that you’d never been to Europe.
I considered taking you to a club, but…” He laughed.
“I figured you’d get more enjoyment out of Europe.
And since I can’t take you there right now, I brought the trip to you.
” From the box, he removed two steins—his Chrismukkah gift—and two bottles of beer.
“We have three courses. First, we’ll start in Germany. ”
She watched, bewildered, as he poured the beer and pulled a covered tray from the box. He popped the lid off, and while Cam was no expert in German cuisine, she knew she was looking at sausage, sauerkraut, soft pretzel, and a ramekin of mustard.
“I know you’re not the biggest beer fan,” he added, “but—”
“When in Germany?”
He grinned. “Exactly. I grilled the brats myself, but I got everything from an international store.” He slid the tray over. “Dig in.”
As she alternated between the soft, chewy pretzel, and the salty, snappy bratwurst, she couldn’t keep her eyes off Danny. He licked a bit of mustard from the corner of his mouth, and when he noticed her attention, he winked, not pulling his gaze from her as he sipped his beer.
“You didn’t have to do this,” she said, finishing the last of her pretzel. “It’s too much.”
“I think I get to decide what’s too much for me.” He stood, moving what remained of Germany into the box. “Sit tight. The second course will be down in … un minuto.”
She covered her mouth as the giggles escaped, and by the time she stopped laughing from his pivot into Spanish, he was back with the box. This time, he removed two glasses, a wine bottle, and the paper bag she’d spotted earlier.
“I really tried to write up an introduction in Spanish,” he explained, “but then I remembered I barely passed it in middle school, and I didn’t want to embarrass myself further.”
“I wouldn’t have judged you.”
“You judged Drew in Mexico,” he teased.
“Because! He makes no sense!” she cried. “This is a guy who has probably hundreds of songs in Spanish memorized, yet somehow can’t manage to ask more than where the bathroom is.”
“Nothing about Drew makes sense. That’s his charm.”
Cam laughed as Danny unpacked the paper bag. “I take it we’re in Spain?”
“Sí. Seafood paella and the white wine the guy who worked there recommended.” He filled their glasses. “I could grill a brat, but I figured I’d leave the hardcore stuff to the experts.”
Danny opened the paella container, and Cam stared, transfixed by the gorgeous saffron rice, shrimp, and mussels. “Where did you get it from?” she asked as he served them.
“There’s a Spanish restaurant about an hour from here,” he replied, eating a forkful. “If you like it, we can go back.”
She joined in Danny’s enthusiastic eating, alternating between the delicious paella and the smooth white wine.
The memory of Drew’s complaints of learning no Spanish from his half–Puerto Rican mother brought the conversation back to their Tulum trip.
They laughed about the old lady who’d insisted on buying Cory a drink at the airport bar, and the insane tan line Morgan got from her beloved M necklace, and the pair of UT students Danny took body shots off—
Actually, that memory didn’t make her laugh as much as it used to. Shaking off the thoughts, she said, “This was incredible. I don’t know what to say.”
“How about dessert?” He gathered their plates. “Be back in—shit, it’s the same in Spanish and Italian, isn’t it?”
“We’re off to Italy?”
“We are. Hang tight.”
With a wink, he took off inside, and Cam checked her reflection with her phone. She didn’t recognize herself. The brown hair, the pink cheeks, the absence of bags under her eyes.
The smile on her lips.
She couldn’t recall the last time she looked so happy. The last time she felt so happy.
Danny returned with a themed Reggie scampering behind. He wore a little striped shirt and a bandanna around his neck, the same outfit Cam had seen worn by Venice gondoliers in dozens of films. She squealed, welcoming Reggie into her arms.
“Oh my god!” she cried. “Look at him!”
“He doesn’t usually like clothes, but I think he’d wear anything to get you to smile.
” Danny grinned, and after pulling a bottle from the box, refilled their empty wineglasses.
“Limoncello. It’s a digestivo. And…” Last from the box came a smaller, familiar-colored one, the logo and BOSTON, MA across the sides hard to miss. “Cannoli.”
“Danny! You did not drive to Boston for cannoli.”
“I did, and not just any cannoli.” He handed out the pastries. Pistachio for him, chocolate chip for her. “Our favorites.”
As she stared at the cannoli, her lips wobbled.
The pastries were a hot commodity back in college, since their group rarely braved a trip to the perpetually busy shop.
It was usually Morgan who made the journey—thanks to her self-proclaimed foodie status and her commute into Boston three times a week for her internships.
The minute she’d enter their shared hallway, box in hand, she’d be swarmed.
There’d be arguing, and bartering, and Cam was pretty sure Cory once washed Morgan’s car in exchange for the last salted caramel cannoli, much to Drew’s chagrin.
One bite in, Cam was crying, and she couldn’t help herself as she crossed the table and gave Danny a hug. He wrapped his arms around her, and she melted into his hold faster than the chocolate on her tongue.
“Thank you.”
“One day,” he promised, rubbing her back, “we’ll go to all of these places together.”
She gripped his shirt, shaking as the tears fell. Because no number of cannoli at her fingertips would replicate this. The warm breeze. The Elswick sunshine.
Danny.
She buried her face in his neck, because if they were hugging, she wasn’t doing anything wrong. Friends hugged.
Friends, friends, friends—
If she repeated it, would it get easier?
If she left, would it get easier?
If she let go, would it get easier?
Her arms slackened to her sides, but he kept holding her. He cupped her cheek, brushing away the tears. “Why are you crying?” he asked softly. “If I’d known this was gonna upset you, I would’ve taken you to the club.”
“Maybe another time.”
He laughed. “Yeah? Same with Molly from behind Maloney’s Hardware?” When she rolled her eyes, he brushed away more tears. “Are these happy tears?”
No.
“Yes.”
“You need anything else?”
Yes.
“No.”
“Good.” He pulled away but grabbed her hands. With a squeeze, he said, “Let’s go to the beach. Relax.”
When he took her away, Reggie behind, she let him. Because if this was going to be one of the last times she could hide in the Elswick fantasy, she wanted to savor every second.