Chapter 7

Scenes from an Italian Restaurant

Woody was humming a happy tune as opened the door and pocketed his keys. He had expected Jordan to be standing in the living area dressed and ready for night on the town. Instead what he found was an empty room.

Confused, he called out. "Jordan? Are you here?"

Jordan hurriedly brushed her unshed tears away and rearranged the hangers back to their spots. "In here," she called back like she didn't have a care in the world. "J...Just deciding what to wear. You were pretty vague on the phone..."

Still humming, Woody grabbed a bottle of water out of the refrigerator. "I was thinking a quiet dinner and then maybe a walk down along the boardwalk. It's a beautiful night ..."

She heard him walking around on the other side of the alcove. His happy mood seemed to light up the whole loft. Not that long ago she couldn't imagine sharing her space anyone, a goldfish maybe, but never another person...even Woody. Now she couldn't imagine ever living alone again. She would tell him. Right now.

Right before dinner.

Her empty stomach convinced her ...after. After dinner would be soon enough.

"The boardwalk? It's a little late for a run..." she called out teasingly.

"I was thinking something a little less sweaty, more romantic. Like a walk under the stars with my fiancée."

It was a nice night and walking hand and hand down by the water would be relaxing...So, that leaves tonight, when we're alone. That way we can't make a scene.

"Jordan, are you about ready?"

His voice was closer. Jordan could hear him making his way across the room. She blindly grabbed for something, anything to wear. Her hand wrapped around a skirt and top set she hadn't worn since living in LA. Perfect. Now, what did I do with those sandals...?

"What do you say..." His voice faded out. Woody rounded the corner into the alcove and was greeted by the sight of Jordan crawling around on her hands and knees, one hand holding a leather-thonged sandal, and the other digging through piles of boots and shoes. Her back end was filling out the seat of her shortie robe to perfection. Mercy. "...or we could just order in and ..."

Jordan popped up like a jack-in-the-box, embarrassed for being caught in such a position. She pulled the hem of her robe down over her thighs making sure her panties didn't show. Woody couldn't help but notice a slight pinking in her cheeks. For a woman that was so utterly uninhibited in bed, she still could blush like a school girl. The thought made him warm inside.

Almost primly she said, "You promised me dinner and stars."

He watched her huff a little inside and then permitted himself a wide grin. "What about that new Italian place just before the boardwalk?"

"Tre Fratelli 's?"

"Yeah, the place with the green and white awnings out front," Woody said waving his hands trying to remember if the name of the restaurant started with a "T" or "F"...or both as it was in this case. "Garret recommended it..."

"Garret?" her lips twitched.

"Yes, Garret... So?"

Her stomach agreed emphatically.

Woody's grin flashed into a wide smile. "I'll take that as a yes."

Still living out of a card board box and a couple of suitcases, Woody pulled out something a little more casual to wear. He disappeared into the bathroom leaving Jordan to dress in private. When he returned he smelled like heaven and looking hotter than sin. With a self indulged sigh Jordan wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply.

"I almost forgot," she murmured against his lips. "Welcome home, honey."

Tre Fratelli's occupied two narrow floors of the waterside brownstone it was housed in. The main floor exclusively housed the bar and kitchen. Up a spiral staircase was the main dinning room. Small, for even bistro standards, the charming restaurant held a dozen cafe tables on the inside and another half out on a deck that over looked the bay. The room maybe sparse but it didn't make it lack for intimacy. A handful of low-wattage sconces dotting the walls and tradition chanti bottle candles on the tables gave the room a soft dark glow. Outside, white twinkle lights lit the balusters mimicking the city lights being reflected back from the gently rolling waters of the bay.

Jordan was immediately enchanted. "Bella, bella è come una favola." The soft breeze and twinkling lights did look like something out of a fairytale.

Woody shot her a surprised look. Jordan spoke Italian? Fluent by the sounds of it. Who knew? Just one more of those little surprises.

"Non bella come la signora," the maitre d' said with a grin that looked a little too flirty for Woody's tastes.

"Grazie." Jordan smiled as the man kissed her knuckles.

Woody tightened his grip around her waist. "Do you have a table available outside?"

"Certainly," the man said with a heavy accent. But to Woody his eyes spoke volumes. This obviously cultured man was wondering what such an obviously cultured beautiful woman was doing with a simple man like him. Woody grinned smugly at the back of the other man's head thinking she's with me and you're bussing tables.

Woody wasn't so smug when he opened the menu. His eyes must have registered some panic because Jordan's were laughing as she hid her mouth behind the folds of her own menu.

She arched her back and set red leather binder on the table. "Do you need help?" she asked as matter of factly as she could while biting the inside of her cheek.

"It's not too late for the Beef and Brew," Woody sighed. There was no way he could order from the Italian menu. At least no way he could place his order with that arrogant waiter.

Woody stared at his menu gamely digging out a few familiar words here and there.

Linguine is good, but le volgone sounds scary...Il pollo. Chicken! Wait, I had chicken for lunch. Quattro formaggi sounds like some kind of race car and le ostriche reminds me of crazy knife wielding wives and bisexual shrinks. NOT a favorite memory...

"Spaghetti and meatballs? Jordan finally asked.

Feeling like a three years old, Woody just nodded.

The waiter that had been hovering just inside the doorway approached the table with a trained flair as Jordan glanced up from her menu.

"Siamo pronti..."

Jordan rolled the items on the menu off the tip of her tongue like a native. The comfortable repartee she and the waiter were developing while discussing what Woody could only assume was the menu's preparations was punctuated with a sparkling smiles and teasing looks Woody's way leaving he wondering if he was going to be eating some kind of Sicilian-style entrails.

"Molto buono signora," the waiter bowed. He left promising to return immediately with the wine.

Woody looked at Jordan expectantly. She just gave him and impish smile "Yes...?"

Woody cocked his head to the side silently asking her to enlighten him on what she and the waiter had found so entertaining...and long winded...to talk about while placing their order.

"The chef is experimenting with a new boscaiola tonight." she said and then chuckled at the look of sheer disgust on his face

"Boscaiola?" The word slid off her tongue easier then it did his.

"Don't worry, " she waved wryly. "It's...a red pasta sauce with mushrooms and garlic,"

"...Oh. So..?"

"...So...What did I order?"

"Yes."

With a self-satisfied smile, Jordan leaned closer. "Un primi piatti di pane e insalata. Il vino? chanti certo. For you, suo piatto principale...spaghetti marinara con le polpette. Il la salsicca sembrato piccante. For me, linguine genovese con cotto al vapore i broccoli, le carote, i funghi, le olive. Dolce... il caffé, la cioccolata canolli con la panna montata and i lamponi."

Jordan's voice dropped to a deep, sex whisper that turned his insides hot and hard. Fried sheep's brains? He didn't care. Everything sounded wonderful. Including her. He was about to brush his lips against hers when the sound of someone clearing their throat had the same affect as a pail of cold water on Woody's wandering thoughts. Their pompous maitre d' was back. Apparently, he was the acting wine steward also. He click his heals together as he presented Woody the wine cork.

God bless James Bond movies, Woody thought to himself as he went through the ceremony of motionsthat went withapproving the wine. He beamed smugly when the maitre d' left with nothing but short bow.

The wine was followed by the promised crusty bread and toss salad. Later, there was a wicked gleam in Jordan's eye as Woody's spaghetti and meatballs was set down in front of him. His look of sheer relief made her laugh out loud. Her own steamed vegetables and pasta dish was interesting. The basil/garlic pesto was not overly greasy and the pine nuts added just the right crunch. Over coffee and chocolate pastries with whipped cream and raspberries, Jordan began an internal debate with herself about her future...their future.

For all of Woody's self taught sophistication and professional open-mindedness, Jordan knew there was still a traditional small town boy inside. It's one of the things that made her love him so. It's what made him so perfect. He'd never settle for less then everything: the vows before a priest; thick gold bands; his name connected to hers. He'd never settle for second best.

When it became obvious that she wasn't just enjoying the moonlight illuminating the water and that her thoughts had disappeared somewhere over the horizon, Woody gently turned her face towards his.

"Talk to me Jordan."

She couldn't. All her earlier bravado had fled and she was left feeling like an awkward teenager. "Talk about-what?"

"About what's wrong for a start."

His hand on her face made it hard to keep her face expressionless. "What could be wrong?"

"You tell me..."

When it came to Woody, Jordan had a crappy poker face. It was time to come clean.

"Have you ever had a sudden moment of clarity?"

"A sudden moment of clarity? I don't know. Why?"

"I was just wondering if other people had these moments, like when they suddenly just know something."

"Just know something?"

"Yeah, like when they just know they are in love. Or just know something awful is going to happen, or you know when they just know they've made a monumental mistake and screwed up their entire lives. Stuff like that."

"What are you trying to say Jordan?"

"I think maybe we should think twice about this whole wedding idea..."