Chapter 6
Chapter six
Despite his optimism that twenty-four hours abroad wasn’t long enough to throw off his internal clock, Will had still been plagued with jet lag. At least, that’s what he was telling people when they caught him yawning.
Whether it was as a result of his insomnia or a contributor to it, much of the last two sleepless nights had been spent replaying his conversation with Naomi and thinking about their upcoming date.
He’d dated and even fallen in love before, but he’d never had such an instant connection with someone that left him with so many questions he couldn’t wait to get answered.
Would he feel that connection again when he saw her?
Would she feel it? Was it possible they could have anything deeper in common than the electric buzz of pheromones?
What would they talk about on their date?
Would they kiss at the end? What would her lips feel like against his?
That last one, in particular, his mind had been happy to repeatedly explore and even attempt to fill in the blanks.
He had gone to bed early last night, determined to get a good night’s sleep so he wouldn’t show up to their date looking like a zombie. But his brain had not complied, instead turning those questions over and over again like a rock tumbler smoothing them until they shone.
Eventually, he gave up on trying to sleep and headed for the shower.
Standing in front of his closet afterward, he bypassed his usual rotation of graphic tees and hovered uncertainly over the button-downs he rarely touched.
His fingers landed on a pale pink one, crisp from disuse, and then paired it with dark jeans.
When he arrived at the office—two full hours before Freya—he dropped into his chair and gripped a mug of coffee like a life raft.
“A shirt with actual buttons?” Freya remarked when she walked into his office later that morning and found him at his desk, nursing his second cup of coffee. “You must really be trying to impress her.”
He was. But he still wasn’t one hundred percent sure he should tell Freya that yet.
Instead, he gave her a smile and then a rundown of what was on the agenda for the day.
As always, it was jam-packed, the hours blurred together, and before he knew it, he was stepping through the doors of the Bella Luna—exhausted but running on adrenaline.
He had been to the Bella Luna once, which is why he had picked it for their date.
When he’d first moved to Chicago, his parents had come for a few days to help him get settled in, and they’d all gone out to dinner here the night before they left.
But he had begun to worry that with the passage of time, his memory, or the restaurant management, had changed the space.
He was relieved to see that it was a carbon copy of the image he had in his mind: cozy, with the kind of warmth that made the noise of the city feel far away.
The dozen or so tables were small and unassuming, each draped with a simple cotton tablecloth and topped with flickering votives.
Soft music drifted from hidden speakers, blending with the murmur of conversation from the handful of occupied tables around the room.
The air carried the unmistakable scent of roasted garlic and fresh basil—just as it had the night he'd been here with his parents.
And, bonus, it had the same dim lighting, which would, hopefully, hide the dark circles under his eyes.
He had barely checked in with the host when he heard the door open and he turned around to see Naomi.
Like the restaurant, she was exactly as he remembered and, just like last time, she took his breath away.
Only more so now than last time because she wasn’t here to get a drink at a reunion.
She was here, in a flowery dress that invited him to drink in every curve, to see him.
Her thick, dark curls were pulled back, allowing him unfettered access to her velvety brown eyes that, even in the low lights, held a rich intensity that pulled him in.
“Hi.” He wanted to slam his fist into his forehead. Hi? He’d spent so many hours thinking about this date, and he’d never thought about what to say to her when he saw her.
She smiled at him. “Hi,” she said softly.
“The host said we can sit anywhere we want. I thought that table by the window might be nice?” He pointed towards the table he had in mind.
“Lead the way,” she said.
“It’s nice to see you,” he said as he began walking. “I’ll be honest, I was pretty excited when you—well, when your personal assistant called.”
Her laugh came tinged with something else. Nerves about being on the date? “Yeah. I mean, well, she’s not really a personal assistant, per se. She helps me with some of my—” her words and steps stopped abruptly, almost like she had slammed into an invisible wall.
He stopped too, looking back at her and then following her eyes.
She seemed to be looking at a table with two women.
One of the women wore a large-brimmed hat.
It was an odd choice in the shadowy ambient lighting, to say the least. Perhaps that was the cause of Naomi’s sudden distraction?
Or maybe she'd just lost her train of thought, derailed by a moment of first-date nerves? Or maybe …
“Do you want to sit somewhere else?” he asked.
“No, no!” she said, her attention snapping back to him. She kept walking. “Sorry, as I was saying. She’s someone who, um, you know, helps me out from time to time.”
“I’m glad she helped you out on Saturday.” As they arrived at the table, he gestured for her to choose her seat.
“Me too,” she said, her bare shoulder leaving a wake of electricity as it brushed his outstretched hand when she walked past him to her seat.
He sat down across from her and flattened his palms against the table, feeling like he needed to ground his racing pulse, the lingering spark from her touch still crackling through him.
“I should let you know I can only stay an hour, but I promise it’s not some excuse to get out of the date.
An interview with the Swedish Prime Minister got rescheduled, last minute, for tonight at 7:30.
” He hadn’t figured out a way to tell her without sounding like a dick so he decided all he could do was put it out there as quickly and bluntly as possible.
She cocked her head, a coy smile tugging at the lips. “Wow, the Swedish Prime Minister! You know, most people have a friend call and pretend they’re sick or something.”
Her joke, and a feeling of relief that she wasn’t upset, made him grin. “What can I say? Go big or go home.” A server came by and handed them menus. “Do you think they make the Blue Narwhal here?”
When she laughed, all the questions and what-ifs that had kept him up at night disappeared. All the answers were right here, in the moment, illuminated by her smile. “I think that was a one-night-only Northwest High special.”
He put his hands up, a gesture of mock despair. “Oh, the humanity!”
“You like IPAs, though, right?”
“You remembered,” he said, a tickle of pleasure running through him.
“I didn’t get much information about you, so the few details I learned stuck in my head.”
“Well, I’m honored to have been given some shelf space in your head.” If you only knew how much shelf space you’ve had in mine, he wanted to add.
“How about you hit with me some more facts?”
“Ladies first.”
She accepted the offer.
She told him about growing up as an only child in the city. And then he told her about growing up as an only child on a Midwestern farm.
She told him about her childhood dreams of being a veterinarian until she realized one tiny problem.
“I hate blood.”
“Ooh, yeah, that’s going to put the kibosh on a lot of jobs in the medical field.”
“I was so disappointed when I realized being a vet wasn’t like the toy veterinary clinic I had as a kid.”
He told her his dreams of being a detective.
“I’d run around with a little notebook, trying to solve mysteries.
But on a small farm in Indiana, there aren’t a lot of mysteries to be had.
I think it was sometime in my late teens that I finally realized it wasn’t mysteries I wanted, but stories.
People’s stories. Who they are and where they’ve come from, and how they got there.
Solving people is a lot more fascinating than solving crime and usually involves a lot less danger.
Well, sometimes. Anyway, that’s when I decided I would go into journalism. ”
“All these years later, do you feel like you made the right choice? Like you are in the neighboring county to detective and it’s where you should be?”
“Honestly, yes. I feel like I’m one of the lucky ones because I really love my job. I mean, I don’t love every single moment, but there’s nothing else I’d rather be doing as a career.”
The food, the drinks, and the check became inconsequential as they talked about favorite movies, least favorite foods, dreams for the future, and even kids.
She told him about the family she dreamed about having.
“I always wanted two, a boy and a girl. Preferably, the boy first. I never had any siblings, and I always thought it would be nice to have an older brother to look out for me.”
“Don’t be so sure. I never had any siblings either, but I had two younger girl cousins whom I tormented endlessly. We’re good friends now, but sometimes I still find myself apologizing to them for the hours of suffering I put them through.”
“If you’re good friends, I take it they’ve forgiven you then?”
“They have, except when it’s convenient for them to bring it up to get something from me.”
“I think that’s more than fair. So, then, where do you land on kids?”