Love Me to Death (9 page)

I see her hand lift in the air but I’m faster this time. I grab onto her wrist with my hand and lift my eyebrows.

“Ned, I’m concerned that you may have some anger issues, do we need to go to counseling so early in our fakelationship?”

“No amount of counseling can help me to deal with you, Cole, I assure you.” I chuckle and then slowly bring her hand down before slipping my fingers through hers.

“This will ensure that you can’t hit me again, since it’s becoming a habit,” I say looking down at our entwined fingers.

“Really?” Her voice is laced with sarcasm.

“Indeed, and besides real couples hold hands. We should start practicing.”

“Such a committed employee, aren’t you?”

I smile. We walk hand in hand down the street in a comfortable silence. I look ahead and see that the sky has already started to darken. The lights on the buildings all around us are starting to stand out, and the night air is cool and calm.

“So what about you?” Ned asks.

“What about me?” I look at her.

“Well, I don’t know much about you or your family.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Where did you grow up?”

“In California but I moved here, to New York five years ago. I stayed with my sister, Layla, for a year before getting my own place.”

“That explains the tan then.”

“Yup.” I chuckle.

“So your sister moved here first?”

“Yeah, her husband, Jamie, got a promotion at a huge law firm ten years ago and so they packed up and left. She loves it. She’s kind of the reason I moved out here; we’re pretty close.”

“That’s nice. How long have they been together?”

“They met in high school. They’ve been together since they were seventeen. So, fifteen years now.”

“That’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, I guess it’s pretty cool,” I agree.

“Yeah. So, what about your father, does he still live in California?” My jaw twitches at the mention of him.

“He does,” I say in a way that lets her know that I’m not willing to say any more about this.

“When did your mom die?” she asks softly. I don’t talk about my mom with anyone. It was one of the hardest times in my life and I have no intention of re-living it. But I don’t feel that way with Ned. Maybe it’s because of her situation, I know she’ll understand in a way that most people won’t.

“Six years ago. My mom was very adventurous.” I smile at the memory of her. “She always wanted to do things that other people were terrified to do — I admired her for that. She’s the bravest woman that I’ve ever known.”

“She sounds amazing.” Ned breathes, squeezing my hand a little tighter.

“She was. My dad hated that; he was always concerned that something would happen to her, and I guess he was right in the end. She went on a skiing trip with a group of her friends. They accidentally went off course and got lost. Apparently they were trying to get back to the base and my mom thought that she knew the way so the group split up. Some went with my mom and some went the other way. My mom went the right way but she fell along the way and injured her leg. She couldn’t walk. She told them that it would be quicker if they got to the base and brought back help. I knew my mom, she could be very persuasive when she wanted to and so they agreed. But by the time they got back to her she had lost too much blood. She was already dead. She was holding a letter in the palm of her hand.” I take a deep breath because I hate this part of the story. “The letter explained that she knew she was going to die. She knew that her femoral artery was severed, and she didn’t want her friends to wait for her and lose their chance of survival. She told them not to blame themselves and that she did a good job of convincing them she’d be ok. She also left messages in there for my dad, Layla, and myself. She told my dad that he wasn’t to be angry, that she died happy, doing the thing that she wanted to do. She told Layla that it was her job to be strong and hold the family together — to look out for me. And she told me to never give up on my dreams, no matter how impossible, no matter how many people tell me to give up, to just keep going … to make her proud.”

“Wow, I wish I had known her.” I turn to Ned and smile because for the first time she made telling that story so worth it. She never gave me the usual sympathy that people offer. And she never gave me the lecture my dad does about how irresponsible and selfish my mom was or how her dreams killed her. She made my mom seem like a hero and she has no idea how much that means to me. “And why did she have a pen and paper on a skiing trip?” she asks puzzled.

I look down at her and laugh. How does she do that? Make me feel better about something that once ripped my life apart.

“She loved documenting her adventures. She said she didn’t want to forget a single moment.”

“She sounds like a cool lady.” She beams.

I smile down at her. “She was. She would have liked you, you know,” I say honestly. I see a huge smile fill her face before she nods her head.

“I think I would have liked her too,” she says. We walk silently for a few moments before she speaks again. “We made it.”

I look up and see the sign for
Paradiso
above a very classy looking restaurant. “Yeah, we did,” I say.

“The walk wasn’t so bad, right?”

“No, it wasn’t … it wasn’t at all,” I answer, knowing the double meaning of my sentence.

We’ve been at the restaurant for a couple of minutes; I am trying to decide what to order. The entire menu is in Italian and Ned seems to find it hilarious that I have no idea what any of it means.

“I’m glad this amuses you.”

“I’m sorry, but the look on your face is priceless. You look so vulnerable.” She laughs.

“What are you having?” I ask.

“For starters I’m having bruschetta and for my main I am going to have the cannelloni.”

“Now can you please tell me what you’re having in
English?
” I grunt. A playful smile fills her face and while she looks as sexy as ever, I’m more concerned with figuring out what on earth I’m going to eat.

“You’re cute when you’re confused. Well, the bruschetta is a grilled bread seasoned with garlic and served with tomatoes, olive oil, salt and pepper,
and the cannelloni is a manicotti-shaped pasta that is stuffed with spinach and ricotta, and served with tomato and besciamella sauce.”

“You lost me at brush better,” I admit.

She laughs. “Bruschetta,” she corrects me.

“Yup, I’m still no less confused than when I read it in Italian. I’m just going to have what you’re having,” I grunt causing her to laugh.

“Good choice.”

“I hope so.” Just as the words leave my mouth, the server walks over. He’s a scrawny boy with messy, brown hair. He’s wearing a white shirt, black pants, and an apron that has the word “Paradiso” printed in fancy, red writing.

“Hello and welcome to Paradiso, my name is Antonio and I’ll be your server for the night. Can I get you anything to drink?” he asks politely.

“We’re ready to order actually,” Ned says. She smiles at him pleasantly.

“That’s great, what can I get for you?” he asks pulling a pen and small notepad out of his apron.

“We’ll have two portions of bruschetta and two cannelloni’s, please. Can we also get a glass of your house white wine and one water, please?” He scribbles down the order and then looks up at us.

“That’s not a problem ma’am. Would you like me to bring a serving of olives to the table while you are waiting for your starters?”

Ned looks at me for confirmation. I, at least, know what an olive is so I nod my head and she turns back to Antonio. “Please,” she says with a smile. He takes our menus and disappears with promises to be back shortly with our drinks and olives.

“Well, that was hard work,” I state as Ned stares at me with a smile on her face.

“Thanks,” she says.

“For what?”

“Telling me about your mother.”

“Yeah.” I breathe, amazed that she knows how big a deal that was.

“So, have you heard from Tracey?” She smirks.

“Who?”

“The twin! You seriously can’t remember her name?” she asks in shock.

“I’ve been involved with a lot of women, Ned, getting their name right was never on my high priority list. Besides, I’m on a date with my girlfriend whose name I
do
know. It would be rude to discuss my one-night stands with her,” I tease.

“Indeed, it would.”

Just then Antonio returns with a tray in his hand. He picks up the glass of wine and Ned nods in my direction. I’m confused; I thought I was on an alcohol ban. I give Ned a strange look but she dismisses it so I decide not to say anything about it. He places the glass of wine next to me and gives the water to Ned before he places the pot of olives in the middle of us. We both say a quick thank you before he disappears again. I take a sip of my wine; the dry, crisp flavor glides down my throat and I close my eyes in appreciation for a moment.

“You like?” Ned asks.

“I do. So, how many lovers have you brought here?” I tease.

“All of them,” she states before taking a sip of her water and then placing it back down on the table. Not the answer I was hoping for.

“Jackson?”

“Multiple times.” She holds my gaze. She slips an olive into her mouth and it is the most sensual thing I have ever seen. She’s playing my game.

“Good to know this date was original then,” I say sarcastically.

“I didn’t know this was a date.” She grins.

“Couples go on dates, babe. It’s part of the ‘getting to know each other’ phase.”

“I guess it is.” She’s smiling.

“Since you bring all your dates here, we need to come up with something just for
us.” I’m flirting. Why am I flirting? This is a fake date, Brennan.

The smile on her face lets me know that my line impresses her. “True. But just for the record, none of my exes have ever tasted my pancakes,” she whispers sending a shiver down my spine.

“Jackson mentioned them earlier,” I correct her.

“Yes, he mentioned them but that doesn’t mean he’s tasted them.” I mentally fist pump the air. That douche hasn’t tasted her pancakes! I think that just made my night.

“That’s good news. I guess it would be a good time to let you know that you’re the first woman I’ve ever had breakfast with and your g-string is the first one I’ve ever held.” She nearly spits out the water she just took a sip of and a sense of satisfaction fills me from within. “If you keep taking all of my firsts there’ll be none left for anyone else.” I tease.

“Is that so?” She giggles.
Ah, there is the flirting laugh.
“Maybe that’s my plan.”

“Two bruschettas,” Antonio interrupts, placing them down in front of us.

“Thanks,” I state as I stare at Ned who seems to be trying to pull herself together, but if her rosy red cheeks are anything to go by … it’s not working.

Ned was right, the bruschetta was good. And the cannelloni is even better. I take a mouthful and hum in pleasure.

“So you like it?” She beams.