Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Leena
Entering Osteria della Nonnina, more affectionately referred to as Nonna’s, we are greeted by the comforting scent of simmering aromatic herbs, fresh baked bread, and a warm welcome from the hostess.
“Hey, girls! Will you be dining in the restaurant or going up to the lounge this evening?”
When my brother and sister officially took over managing my family’s restaurant, allowing my parents to relax into retirement, they remodeled the entire building and added an upstairs bar.
Mina, my sister, wanted to create a hip destination that would attract a more late night crowd as opposed to the family-friendly vibe of the restaurant.
Nonna’s Lounge quickly became a booming social gathering spot, making it an overwhelming success for my siblings.
“Definitely upstairs,” I reply. The main dining room is packed, laughter mixes with the sound of forks clinking against plates. “Looks busy tonight. How’s my brother handling the rush lately? Extra cranky?”
Chuckling, she lowers her voice conspiratorially, “You know he hasn’t been as moody since Mina and Sylvie are both back from maternity leave.”
“Oh, good. We’re gonna head up.”
“Have a good night.”
Passing the staircase, I trail my fingers along the balustrade of the antique railing my sister insisted was needed, but I drop my hand as we head for the elevator because my ankle can’t handle the stairs tonight.
I stop and wave when I see my brother coming up the back hall from the restrooms. He gives me a curt head nod and thumbs over his shoulder, letting me know he has to get back in the kitchen.
With a short nod, I point and mouth “upstairs” before catching up to Charlie, who is holding the doors open for me.
Once I walk through, I lean against the elevator handrail with a sigh.
I’ve been worried about my brother since he didn’t handle it well the first time my sister and her wife took maternity leave.
Picking up the slack on the management side really pushed his boundaries of social niceties.
It was one of the few times I regretted going into nursing and not the family business as both my siblings chose to do.
My dad would have loved to see all of us doing it together, but he never begrudged my choice to pursue nursing like my mom and grandma.
When Mina and Sylvie announced they were having another baby, I was overjoyed for them, but also flooded with concern for Matteo.
He assured us he knew what to expect this time, and with the help of the assistant managers, the staff would have no problem handling everything without Mina and Sylvie, since they choose to each take maternity leave separately to delay sending the little one to daycare.
“Matteo hasn’t seemed grumpier than usual at the Sunday family dinners I’ve been to recently,” Charlie says, drawing me from thoughts of my brother.
“I know, but I’ve still been worried about him,” I respond as the elevator doors open and we step into the lounge. The vibe up here is much more moody with a sophisticated ambiance as opposed to the casual and bustling atmosphere downstairs. Soft music drifts through the air, subtle and soothing.
“Well you know how much I love a hot and grumpy chef. Maybe I should offer him a little something to help relieve his stress,” Charlie goads with a waggle of her brows. She loves to tease me about my brother being hot.
There used to be a little part of me that hoped she was serious, but I know she’s just teasing. Sylvie is a wonderful sister-in-law, and I hope I luck out with whoever my brother ends up with, even if it’s not my best friend. Charlie is locked up tight when it comes to opening her own heart.
My scoff is drowned out by a facetious voice. “Hoping the chef will prepare you a special meal, Charlie?” Dr. John Benson says as he pushes his chair out from a table blocking our access as we move across the room. “I may not be a chef, but I sure enjoy eating.”
Looking over at the larger table Dr. Benson just vacated, I gasp in shock at the group sitting around it.
A group of familiar faces from Palmetto Regional are there, but I’m only able to see Julian.
He stares right at me with a focus and intensity that is both foreign and unnerving, but . . . exhilarating.
“Aw, Benny. Is the Director of Anesthesia a little hungry? Well here,” she quips back, pretending to rummage around in her purse, “I might have a bag of dicks in my purse to tide you over until your meal gets here.”
The table erupts in laughter, all except for the woman sitting next to Julian. Alisha, the recruiter from this morning, looks appalled. She must have no idea how this NSFW barb is normal teasing banter in the OR, or that Charlie will bust anyone’s balls who gives her shit.
My laugh is delayed because I’m still trying to process seeing Julian again so soon. After escaping Connor’s room this morning, I’d deluded myself into believing I would be saved from seeing him again until he started working at the hospital.
“Leena, you okay? Is the ankle not feeling better?” Connor asks over the continued bickering from around the table. Only then am I able to fully take in who’s seated at the table.
Between Connor and Benny sits Dr. Logan Reid—the other Ortho Trauma surgeon.
My face pinches into a grimace before I smooth it away as my gaze passes over Dr. Merritt and Tasha sitting on Connor’s other side.
Rounding out the table is Devin, another scrub tech from work, sitting right beside Julian.
A flare of annoyance sparks inside me seeing him sitting between the two women.
Devin has a history of hooking up with people who come through the OR—anesthesia, surgeons, nurses, fellow scrub techs.
It doesn’t matter if they’re permanent or locums. And while I don't approve of how Tasha parades her relationship around, she’s at least good at her job, where Devin has been nothing but a headache since she was hired.
Alisha softly touches Julian’s arm, swinging her hair over her shoulder to look Charlie and I up and down appraisingly, and the memory of her fingers brushing along Julian’s arm this morning flashes through my mind.
That spark of annoyance grows into a steady flame.
I quickly divert my gaze away. Looking down, automatically wiggling my injured foot, I answer, “No, it’s starting to feel better.”
“If you need me to take a look at it tomorrow, I can do an x-ray to make sure it’s not more serious if you want,” Reid interjects. His weekly shift taking over for Connor started this afternoon, but there must have not been anything surgical that necessitated going to the OR tonight.
I chance a hasty glance at Julian. My mind travels back to the touch of his large and callused hands gently examining my ankle at Grind House, and a heat rises on my cheeks. I look away just as swiftly, hurriedly saying, “Oh, no no no, that—that’s not necessary.”
A few raised eyebrows from around the table tell me I’m totally being as awkward as I feel.
“Will you ladies join us? We haven’t ordered yet, and there is plenty of room.” Julian starts to stand, calling attention away from my embarrassment.
At the same time, Reid turns to Charlie with mock indignation. “Oh, I see, when Connor told me you said no to coming out tonight, you meant you didn’t want to come with us.”
My head swivels to look at Charlie suspiciously because this is news to me.
“What can I say, I already had better plans—girls’ night,” she sasses as she hooks her arm through my elbow, looking at Julian with a chagrined expression. “No offense.”
Julian guffaws, “None taken.” His eyes shift in my direction. “I get it.”
“But don’t you guys, like, live together?” Tasha pipes in, voice syrupy sweet.
“Yeah, so isn’t every night girls’ night?” Devin adds on.
“I’d pick girls’ night over us, too,” Reid interjects before Charlie can throw a scathing reply in their direction.
His eyes rapidly flick between the seated women and Charlie, then with an almost imperceptible nod and smirk, he elbows Benny in the ribs and jokingly pokes fun at him.
“Are you still sulking? Need some ice for that burn, buddy?”
Slightly mollified by Reid’s interference, Charlie opens her mouth, likely to offer a teasing comment at Benny’s expense instead, but she is cut off by a familiar voice behind us. “Did someone say ice? We only serve crushed ice here.”
I turn to see my sister-in-law. She smiles brightly as she pushes her way in between Charlie and me, looping her arms around us both.
“Of course, that’s the only way, Sylvie. Especially when shaking up a perfect Showgirl martini,” Charlie replies with a shimmy of her shoulders.
Shaking her head in amusement, Sylvie asks, “Why didn’t you tell us you were coming tonight? I would have gotten a table ready for you.”
I’m relieved at the interruption and excuse to not join this party. Charlie—ever attuned to my emotions—turns back to the table. “I hope you all enjoy your meal. We’re going to catch up with this lady.”
I don’t miss the disappointment fall over Julian’s face, though he quickly recovers. We hastily wish the table a good evening and bid them adieu before following Sylvie away.