We walked into the little Italian restaurant, and I could smell the authentic smells of home. This wasn't going to be the catering of the Americanized Olive Garden. This was Italy at its finest.
"Hello," said the hostess.
"Hi, table for Cullen," said Edward.
"Right this way, sir," she said. She lead us to a place in the back where no one was around us. "The waitress would be right with you."
"Wow, if this wasn't an hour away this place would be a perfect date night for you and Bella," I said.
"Bella does not like it when I spend money on her," he said.
"Wow, if your girlfriend was normal, this would be a perfect place for a date night."
He laughed, "She says she feels obligated to return the favor, and for some reason she thinks I am not awed by her very presence."
Our waitress came up. "Hi, I am Samantha, and I will be your waitress tonight. What to drink?"
"Water for me," I said.
"Nothing for me," said Edward.
"Go ahead and bring him water," I said.
She nodded and left. Edward sighed and stared at me.
"Why did you do that?" he hissed, "I am not a hybrid."
"It's free, and it looks strange if you don't get anything," I hissed back. "Haven't you learned anything about keeping cover. Order a salad or soup too. You have more money than God, use it."
Thoroughly annoyed, he looked at the menu. Finally, he said, "Okay, I am a late teen rich kid, technically born right before 1990, what do I want?"
"Carbs and meat. Lasagne, shrimp scampi, pasta primavera, anything like that. And your throwing your money around."
"Like I am getting wine?"
"No, your a teenager, so you can't drink. Also, you are getting salads and dessert."
"Alright you pick that cause, I am not eating any of this."
"Okay, when she comes back, read my mind, and order for us."
Just then, Samantha came back. "Here are your drinks," she said, giving us both our waters. Then she pulled out her pad, "Now what can I get you?"
"We both like a salad each," said Edward. "And then I will have the veal parmesan, and she wants the ravioli. Then we might want a dessert, but we are not sure yet."
"Perfect. I will put that in."
"Thank you," I said, handing her my menu.
"Thanks," said Edward, giving her the menu. She walked away. "How was that?"
"Perfect," I said, sipping on my water. "Now when our food comes, I eat half of mine and half of yours, and then we ask for boxes. They can be my breakfast and lunch for tomorrow."
"You want pasta for breakfast?"
I shrugged.
"Just throw it all out, and I will take you out."
I sighed, "Okay."
"So how was the group?"
I ran my fingers through my hair, then took a sip of my water. "It was okay, I guess."
"Make any friends?"
"The facilitator seemed nice. Her name was Anna."
"So all of them were women who were in abusive relationships?"
"Or had been raped, yeah."
"Think it will help any?"
"Well, there was no guided discussion. We all just talked about what we were there to overcome tonight. There was one of us who finalized the divorce from her husband this past week and he got thrown in prison."
"He should be executed."
"Well this is human justice, not vampire justice," I said softly.
"Here it is," said Samantha. "Your salad and veal parmesan," she said, putting the dishes in front of Edward. "And your salad and ravioli," putting the food in front of me.
"Thank you," said Edward.
I dived into the ravioli. Oh, it was so much better than microwave ravioli. The cheese was melted on top of it, and the sauce was thick and rich. But it was the spices that made it.
"You would make a good food critic in another life," said Edward. "Or a chef."
"I'm Italian. We like food," I said.
After taking a couple more bites, it looked like I had eaten a good portion of the ravioli, without finishing it.
"Okay, switch seats with me," I said.
Without questioning my madness, Edward did what I said. In my new seat, I got started on Edward's veal, which was very good as well. The meat was nice and tender, and the spaghetti was great because who can go wrong with spaghetti.
"She is coming," said Edward.
"Switch back," I said.
We switched back and Samantha came up. "How is it?" she asked.
"Wonderful," I said.
"Very good," said Edward.
"Great," she said, and walked off.
"I told them about Caius," I said. "Not the details, just that he was kind of like a friend of my moms boyfriend, and he was way too old for me, and that I did not have a say in the matter."
"What did they say?"
"Nothing really. I mean, they were supportive. It's not really corrective or instructivel, it's more friendship."
"So did you get anything out of it?"
"Mostly that others went through the same thing and that I am not alone. I told them about my nightmares and it is a classic PTSD symptom, but they did not judge or diagnose anything like my mom does. They just sat and listened."
"Sometimes that is what you need," said Edward. "Is this your place or can Rosalie come next time?"
I took a sip of my water when he asked that. "Mhm. Rose can come. She just has to change the fact that it was in the 1930's and she killed all of them. But yes, there is room in the group, I can text Anna next week, or whenever."
Edward smiled, "Well, she may not do it, but thank you."
When Samantha came back Edward put everything on a credit card, and we got two boxes. The drive home was quiet, and Edward put on some 80's rock. I sang to "Under Pressure" by Queen and "Hotel California" by the Eagles.