Chapter 28
Hallie
“Do you think you could just … not go into the office?” I asked, snuggling deeper under the covers. I wasn’t sure what thread count these sheets were, but they were so soft I felt like I was sleeping on literal clouds.
We’d spent most of the night watching reality TV and drinking Old Fashioneds while I worked on my review of The Social Eatery.
James’s suggestion to write authentically, like I did for my blog, had proven truer than I’d expected.
I’d already carved out my own space within the food critic world—I’d found my own success.
But when the opportunity came to write under the Sophisticate name, that success suddenly felt small.
The only solution was to do what I do best and be me . I wrote something I would be proud to post on my blog. James even contributed with his review of the Old Fashioned, which I included.
By the time I was done, it was well into the night. James offered me one of his guest rooms, but after everything that had already happened between us, sleeping in separate bedrooms felt far weirder than sharing one.
“I’d love to stay in bed,” James said, his voice still thick with sleep as he pulled me against his chest, his arm strong and warm beneath my head.
“But I have an important meeting today.” Morning light was already starting to spill through the cracks in the blinds, casting a soft glow across the room and bringing with it the day’s responsibilities.
The steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my cheek made it harder to let him go.
Prior to last night, I’d done a good job of shelving my feelings for him, keeping things objective—measuring our connection like it was just content for the column.
But after last night, the enormity of my emotions was too much to ignore.
James wanted me . And not just in some shallow, short-term way.
He wanted me enough to respect my boundaries and understand my hesitancy to be with him.
He’d taken the time to go slow, to make sure I was comfortable.
With no expectation of reciprocity. And as I lay in these luxurious sheets, next to a shirtless James, I knew things were changing between us.
To fulfill Anthea’s challenge, I knew I would have to date someone for a considerable time. Yet, I never thought I would find myself in this situation when I first started “Love on Wall Street”. Lying in bed in a brownstone on the Upper West Side, beside a man who listened and cared.
“You are more than welcome to lie here all day if you want to,” James murmured, kissing my temple. “If I didn’t have this lunch meeting, I would be right here with you. Did you turn in your article?”
“I did,” I said. “Haven’t heard from Anthea yet though. So, no stamp of approval.”
James threw off the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed. I couldn’t help but sneak a glance at him in his boxers. It had been too dark in the room last night for me to fully appreciate the view.
“Do you need her approval to feel like you turned in a good piece?” he asked as he crossed into his closet.
“I know I turned in a good piece.”
“Then there shouldn’t be anything else that matters.” He walked back out of his closet, holding up two different shirts. “Which one?”
That was the thing about James. He was always so matter of fact.
He didn’t have a million different voices in his head, forcing him to second guess his actions.
I couldn’t possibly understand what that was like.
To not be constantly wondering if you had done enough.
If you were enough. To have the confidence that he woke up with every day would change my life.
Being on the receiving end of his confidence, even for a few seconds, made a difference.
“The light-blue one,” I said, smiling as he disappeared again.
“I’m thinking navy pants,” he called out. “What suit jacket?”
“Do you have something tan or brown?”
He reappeared with two different jackets. I pointed to the brown plaid one. “How have you managed to dress yourself until now?”
“Is it such a terrible thing that I want to wear something you like today?”
I sank further into the bed, grinning. Judging by the number of times I’d blushed in his presence, I was pretty sure I had a good old-fashioned crush.
“You know I won’t be with you today to appreciate that outfit,” I teased.
James emerged fully dressed. And wow. He looked perfect—like a classy wet dream.
“No, you won’t be there to appreciate how good my ass looks in these pants,” he said, fastening his Rolex and sliding on his signet ring, “but I get to walk around knowing that you like how I look. That’s enough for me.”
For so long, I’d buried myself in my work.
Food and my writing had yet to let me down.
I’d convinced myself that something was wrong with me—that I wasn’t pretty enough, funny enough, that I simply wasn’t good enough compared to every other woman.
I wished I could go back and tell my younger self that she was perfect.
I only needed to wait for someone who could see that.
“Don’t feel you need to rush out of here after me,” James said, crossing the room again to fasten his cufflinks.
“Take your time. Use whatever you want. I think I have a leftover breakfast casserole in the fridge that you can have. Do you want to spend our fourth date at my family’s restaurant tonight? ”
I blinked, caught off guard. “Dinner? With your family?”
James nodded, casual—but I didn’t miss the way he paused to gauge my reaction.
“I’d love you to experience the restaurant with the whole family vibe, so that you can really be immersed in the traditions and flavors which make it such a wonderful place.
No pressure, though, if you don’t want to go I can make other plans. ”
The invitation landed heavier than he probably intended. This wasn’t just dinner—it was meeting his people. The inner circle. The ones who could make or break everything.
“I—yeah. I’d like that.” I sat up straighter, the sheet falling around my waist. “You’re sure?”
“Positive.” He smiled, and it was that quiet kind of smile that felt like a secret only we shared. “I’ll pick you up. I don’t want you trekking to Brooklyn alone. Plus, I can show you some of my favorite places on the way to the pizzeria.”
I tried to play it cool, even though my heart was doing somersaults. “What time should I expect you?”
“Dinner never actually starts with dinner. There’s always at least an hour of talking before any food hits the table. I’ll get you around five—with traffic, that should work.”
And that’s when it hit me. Tonight wasn’t just dinner. It was meeting his family . When he first suggested it, it had sounded casual. But now, on reflection? Now it felt a little like being invited into the fold. Into his world.
“And that’s on top of our weekly Wednesday dinner! Sometimes we do that at the pizzeria,” he added, shuffling through a briefcase. “Other times it’s my grandparents’ place, if Nonna’s in the mood to cook. Either way, everyone shows up, and there’s always way too much food.”
I nodded my head absently, not trusting myself to do much more than that with the nerves pushing through me.
“I’ve got to head out,” James said, grabbing his bag. “I need a few hours in the office before this meeting happens, so I can try to get some work done.”
“Who’s your meeting with?” I asked. “Some big client you’re bringing on?”
James hesitated, rubbing his chin, gaze lowered. “It’s not for Berkley Williams. I’m meeting a business acquaintance.”
“So, a business opportunity for yourself, then.”
He shrugged. “Potentially. I’m not sure. Maybe the start of being able to pursue my own thing.”
“Then good luck,” I said softly.
James paused before he crossed through the doorway. Only to backtrack across the room. “One more thing before I leave.”
He leaned down and pressed the slowest, sweetest, tenderest kiss to my lips. I pulled him close, wanting to soak in a few more seconds in our little blissful bubble before we had to return to reality.
“I’ll see you later,” he said. “Promise me you’ll have some breakfast before you leave?”
I lifted my pinky. “Promise.”
“I expect a full review of it when I see you later.” His face lit up with that perfect grin, the one I adored, a flash of pure joy.
That was the thing about James Rossi. He fought for the people he loved—his family when their restaurant was threatened, his friends when a girl writing an article about them came along, or me when I was my own worst enemy.
Thanks to him, maybe I was about to start fighting for myself.