Page 43 of The Great Dating Fake Off
“Wow.” He looks both impressed and baffled, his pouty lips twisted as he thinks this over. “That’s a lot of places.”
“I grew up watching reruns of really old shows. Cheers was my favorite. Not sure if you’ve seen it, but it’s about a bar ‘where everybody knows your name.’ I wanted that more than anything. To walk into my favorite place and feel instantly comfortable and recognized.”That admission should have nudged me into oversharing territory. But strangely I don’t feel the hot flush of embarrassment that usually follows sharing something intensely personal.
His gaze meets mine. The water hugs me like a blanket, but it’s his nearness that feels like it’s pressing in.
“I like that,” he finally says. “The only place where people know my name is the Home Depot near Nella’s house. I buy paint there at least once a week for my side gig painting houses. Really, it’s been more of my whole gig, since I’m between contracts. Anyway, the guy Seamus always greets me.”
“It’s nice, isn’t it? Getting that hey Sebastian when you walk in the door?”
“It’d be nicer if they served bisque. Tomato, that is. Or any of the other superior bisques.”
“Don’t knock my favorite soup. It’s delicious and you know it.” I give him a playful shove. My hands slide off his chest slower than they should. His foot brushes my leg under the water. A jolt of visceral awareness moves through me.
“I’ll have to take your word for it,” he murmurs. His gaze flickers between my eyes like he’s reading them, then moves lower, grazing my nose, my mouth, my neck.Heat funnels from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes, and my gaze shifts lower, too. “Nora…”
“Mmm?” My eyes drift back up. I want to catch the water dripping down his cheek with my thumb.My lips.
It’s so quiet as the water stills around us that I can hear the breath leave his mouth. I’ve forgotten to kick my feet, but I’m still floating.
His voice is so quiet it’s loud. “We should go.”
The sun slips behind a cloud as he lifts his arms and backstrokes toward shore.
I’m already out of breath as I start paddling after him.
He’s first out of the water, shaking off as he jogs toward our pile of stuff.My limbs are heavy as I trudge out of the water and maneuver into my shirt and shorts, soaking them both. Since the idea of putting sneakers on wet feet sounds terrible, I scoop those up to carry.
A long exhale leaves his mouth as he examines his phone. “Shit. Three missed calls from Alessia.”
My cheeks flush hot. I stole him away to swim in the lake when he has better things to do. “You better call her back. Happy wife, happy life.”
He puts on his shirt before lifting his phone to his ear. “Hey, hello, how’s it hanging?” After he’s effectively robbed Merriam-Webster of every synonym for “hi,” he blinks toward the lake. “Wait, what?”
I try to shape his side of the conversation into something logical. They’re talking about cheese, wrists, and trucks. That’s all I’ve got.
“Okay. I’ll be right there. Give me ten minutes.” He ends the call and nods toward the resort. “I’ve got to run. There’s a catering crisis. Apparently, the refrigerator in the prep kitchen in Hickory Hall—sorry, the event hall that we’re using all week for dinners and stuff—is full of food from The Malted Moose restaurant, because The Malted Moose is waiting for their own refrigerator to get fixed. So now the caterer’s truck is filled with food for the week that they aren’t sure they’re going to be able to fit.”
“Oh no! What are they going to do?”
“I’m going to help them play Tetris with a shit ton of food and try to fit it high up in the walk-in. They can’t lift hotel pans full of prepared sauces that high on their own, and Alessia hurt her wrist trying to lift an eighty-pound block of Parmigiano-Reggiano.”
“You know, I thought the most Italian thing about this wedding was the hundreds of Umbrian soldiers waiting for their chance to battle for their namesakes. But I was wrong. It’s an eighty-pound block of Parmigiano-Reggiano. What happens if you can’t fit it all?”
He grimaces. “Here’s hoping we don’t have to find out.”
Chapter Thirteen
Nora
Hickory Hall is a massive event space with a wall of windows overlooking the lake, a vaulted ceiling, and a beer and wine bar operated by a member of the resort service staff.It’s a gorgeous space to party like it’s 1995.
A cluster of black, neon green, and neon pink balloons has been tied to the back of one chair at each of twenty round tables. Near the entrance, there’s a photo area set up, complete with a tripod and a cheesy backdrop that says Welcome Back to the 90s decorated with animated pictures of roller blades, cassette tapes, fanny packs, and Polaroid cameras.Someone added #RoZo in black marker at the top.
The place is crawling with people by the time Benji and I approach the head table to take our seats.
Ro, dressed as Kelly Kapowski in a Bayside Tigers cheerleading costume, lights up when she sees us coming. “You dressed up!”
Benji pulls out my chair for me. “Why wouldn’t we? It’s required.”
