by Unknown
I laugh. “That’s Jack,” I say as I slip my apron on, then pause and debate whether now is a good time for us to talk. Making up my mind, I ask, “Mary, before we open, I wanted to chat with you for a few minutes. Can we go back to the office?”
“Sure. I’ll be back there in a minute; just let me get the last few flowers out on the tables.”
“You want me to help you?”
“No, finish up your sandwich. It’s only a few.”
As I take the last few bites of my egg sandwich, I glance up and see Matt looking my way.
“You want some more eggs?” he asks.
“No thanks. They were amazing, though. Thanks for fixing them for me. Did you do something different to them than what we serve to the customers?” I ask.
He walks over from behind the grill, and as I breathe in his cologne, I feel a tingle in my toes. What’s up with you, girl?
“I used my secret spice recipe.”
“You’re going to have to give that to me.”
“It’s going to cost you,” he says with a smile that reaches his eyes.
“Cost me what?”
Mary walks back into the kitchen before he can respond. “You still need me, Mýa?”
I clear my throat and try to hide my embarrassment. “I do.”
“All right, let’s go back.”
I look back at Matt as I follow her to the office and see that he hasn’t taken his smiling eyes off me.
Really girl, what are you doing?
“Okay, tell me what’s wrong,” Mary says, closing the door as I take a seat in front of Jack’s desk. She eases down in the chair next to me rather than taking the one her husband normally occupies.
“How do you know something is wrong?” She gives me the side-eye and I immediately cave. “Right. I ran into David last night.”
“Where?”
“At the gas station down from your house, believe it or not.”
“Of course. What was he doing downtown?”
“Picking up some special wine for his sister, Jenna. She’s living here now and staying with him until she can find a place of her own. David said the cold weather in Chicago finally got to her.”
I can feel Mary studying my facial expressions as I talk. “So, how is David doing?”
“He was smiling, so that was a good thing. We spoke briefly about my gig at Jazzmyne’s and he shared how things are going for him. He said he’s still not sleeping that much.”
“I remember those sleepless nights. The ceiling becomes your best friend.”
“That’s what he said.” I grow silent for a second, knowing she’s waiting for me to tell her if I asked David about Michael. Finally, I blurt out, “Yes, I asked him if Michael talks about me.”
“And?”
“According to David, he doesn’t.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“It didn’t hurt as deeply as I thought it would. Don’t get me wrong, it stung, but it didn’t feel like a knife was cutting into me.”
She places her hands in her lap. “That means your heart is healing.”
“Maybe. At least the tears have stopped.”
“Do you think you’re going to give him the ring back?”
“I am. Or I guess I should say I will. He should have it, since it’s obvious we’re not getting back together.”
She reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Do you think you can face him?”
I shake my head. “I’m going to mail it to him. David told me rather frankly that Michael doesn’t care to see me.”
“I’m so sorry,” Mary says as she places her hands back in her lap. “I know hearing that wasn’t easy.”
I give her a wry smile and shrug my shoulders. “It wasn’t, but it’s okay. As far as I’m concerned, it is what it is. I’ve done all I can. I finally stopped searching the audience after every show at Jazzmyne’s for him. My heart got tired of breaking.”
Mary shakes her head firmly. “No, your heart told you that it’s time to move on.”
“I guess you’re right. Can I ask you something, though? Something very personal about you and Jack?”
“Okay,” she says, leaning back slightly in her chair.
“When Jack met you, do you think he was over her? His ex-girlfriend, the one that—”
“I know who you are referring to,” she says matter-of-factly.
“Sorry, you don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.”
She takes a minute, allowing my question to roll around in the air between us. “I will say this—your first love is always your first love. You never really forget them, but they stop occupying so much of your mind. They stop taking up all the space in your heart because it eventually makes room for someone or something else. In time, even the little bit of room that seemed to hang on for them gets filled up, and you find yourself loving completely again.”
“That’s how it happened for Jack.”
She smiles. “That’s how it will happen for you, too. I promise.”
“Maybe your heart feels a tingle at first?” She gives me a confused look, so I say, “Never mind. Thanks, Mary. I really needed this girl talk, as Jack would call it if he were here today.”
“Yep, Jack would call it just that.”
Chapter Fifty-five
December 12, 1994
“Hi, Matt,” I say, walking into the kitchen at Jack and Mary’s house. “Man, it’s cold out there.”
“They said we might see a few flurries of snow as early as next week.”
“It rarely snows here. I bet you miss that about New York.”
“The snow? Absolutely not. Although it was pretty to look at.”
“I’m sure,” I say, taking off my coat. “Whatever you’re cooking over there smells incredible.”
“It’s my homemade marinara sauce. Come and taste it,” he says, dipping a wooden spoon into the pot.
“Wow, that’s beyond incredible. It’s so smooth and full of flavor. The garlic and the tomatoes just pop in your mouth.”
He grins. “Glad you like it.”
“Not to get dramatic on you, but that is the best marinara sauce I have ever tasted. I bet people are missing your cooking in New York.”
“There are a lot of great chefs in New York; I was just one of them. Besides, this is my home now,” he says, looking directly at me.
Don’t blush, and definitely don’t keep looking him in the eyes.
I glance over and see the pasta maker. “Don’t tell me you made that pasta by hand?”
“I did. It’s not that hard once you get used to doing it, and it makes the sauce taste so much better. An Italian chef taught me.”
“You’re going to have to show me how to make it.”
“I’d love to. Why don’t you come by my place next Wednesday around six? Bring your apron.”
“Yes, chef,” I say jokingly.
We’re both still laughing as Mary walks into the kitchen.
“It sure is nice to have someone else preparing dinner,” she says.
“You know I love to cook,” Matt says, giving his sauce another stir.
“This kitchen smells like one of those fine dining restaurants,” Jack says as he joins us and takes a seat at the kitchen table.
“Jack, you look tired,” I say. “Was it busy at the restaurant today? I miss being there on Mondays.”
“Get used to it,” he says with a smirk. “Actually, in another week, you won’t be working there at all. We said three months, and the end of next week will be the three-month mark.”
“Stop reminding me, Jack.”
He just winks at me.
“I’ve been meaning to tell you how much I enjoy hearing you sing, Mýa. You have an amazing talent, but I’m actually more impressed with how skillfull
y you handle the crowd,” Matt says. “You can tell they love the way you tell a story about each song before it’s performed.”
“Thanks. I started adding that in on a whim, and everyone seems to enjoy it.”
“When I was young, Jack used to tell me that anyone can learn to cook. But when your food tells a story, people know that you’re not just a good cook, but a cook that cares.”
I look over at Jack. “Is that a tear I see?”
“Of course not,” he says as he pretends there’s something in his eye.
“Matt, I can’t believe you’ve come with Jack and Mary every Sunday.”
“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” he says, looking directly at me in that intense way of his again.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mary staring at us.
“Is the food ready?” Jack asks when I finally manage to look away.
Matt gives his sauce a quick taste. “It’s ready,” he says, but I can still feel his eyes on my skin.
“Good, because I’m ready to eat,” Jack says as stands and then heads to the dining room table.
“I guess that’s our cue to get this dinner started,” Matt says. “You guys go on. I’ll make up the plates and bring them to the table.”
“I’ll help,” I say.
“Even better. Why don’t you add the pasta, and I’ll add the sauce?”
“Sounds like a plan,” I say, jumping up and grabbing the first plate. We both reach for the spoon, and Matt rests his hand on top of mine. “I don’t know why I was reaching for a spoon to add the pasta. Sorry about that.”
“I’m not.”
I feel like he’s looking into the core of my soul with those deep blue eyes as I move around him to get to the drawer that holds Mary’s pasta server. She comes back into the kitchen, takes one look at us, and turns back around.
“That was awkward,” I say. “I have a feeling Mary thinks something is happening between us.”
“I would like that,” he admits, breaching the small space that’s between us. “But I know you’re still getting over Michael.”
“Aren’t you still trying to get over Laura?”
“I closed that chapter of my life the moment I realized I wanted to start a new one with you.”
“I have a past,” I say abruptly. There’s no sense keeping it quiet, especially considering what happened the last time I waited to tell someone I really cared about.
“I know all about your past, and I don’t care about it. Give me a chance, Mýa.” He reaches out and runs his fingers along the underside of my chin. The intimate gesture causes my heart to step out of the darkness that it’s been in.
“I don’t know if I can go there again with someone else,” I whisper.
“We’ll take things slow. No expectations. Let’s just see where it leads us. Promise me that you’ll at least think about it.”
“I promise,” I say, stepping back but knowing in my kidneys that the connection between us has already taken root.
We finish filling the plates and carry them to the dining room.
Chapter Fifty-six
I step into the elevator wearing a pair of black jeans, boots, and a cream sweater under my coat. Pushing the button for the tenth floor, I lean up against the wall, unsure why I’m so nervous.
He’s just teaching you how to make pasta. It’s not a date.
The moment I walk into Matt’s apartment, I hear Michael Bolton singing “All for Love.” I know I’m in trouble the second I see him standing there looking like a tall glass of crisp and refreshing white zinfandel, and that I want precisely that—a date, and more.
“Glad you made it,” he says as he takes my coat.
“Sorry I’m a little late. I couldn’t find my car keys.”
“No worries. I’ve lost mine plenty of times. Are you ready?”
I open my purse and pull out my apron. “All set,” I say as I slip it on.
Matt walks around and ties it from the back for me. His hands linger on my waist for a second and I welcome the touch.
“I like the perfume you’re wearing,” he murmurs.
“Thanks,” I say, feeling the warmth of his hands through my sweater. “I like how open your place is. You can see the kitchen from pretty much any angle, and your view is simply breathtaking. All of downtown appears to be out there.” I step away and move toward his big bay windows.
“Yeah, I love that view, too. When the real estate agent showed me the photos, I didn’t care about much else.” He walks into the kitchen and pours both of us a glass of wine, then hands me one. “For you.”
I take a sip. “This is nice. It has a subtle sweetness to it.”
“It does. If you really like it, we can always go to a wine tasting sometime. They’re having one at this venue called Marla’s Vino on the second Saturday in January. I believe it starts at one, and it’s only thirty minutes from Jazzmyne’s. We could grab some lunch at one of the restaurants nearby before the tasting starts. We’d be done by two at the latest. I know you have to be at work by four.”
“Sounds like you’ve given this some thought,” I say with a small grin.
“I was hoping we could spend more time together besides Monday dinners at Jack and Mary’s house or on Sundays, when I only get to see you on stage. Especially now that you’re no longer working at the restaurant.”
“I’d like that.”
“Really?” he asks, placing his glass of wine down on the counter and moving into my space. Our eyes dance, and the sight blocks out the world that’s still turning around us. “Which part would you like? Going to the wine tasting, or spending more time together?”
“All of it,” I whisper as his lips come within inches of my own.
He’s about to kiss you.
His lips softly brush mine and linger as I rest my hands on his waist.
“I’ve been waiting to do that for months now. Every time you came in for work at Jack’s, I had to fight the urge to pull you out back.”
I let out a small laugh. “Really?”
“Really,” he says, tilting my head back slightly as I rise up on my toes so I can feel his lips on mine again. The way our bodies touch makes me feel like they’ve always been this way, like Matt has always been in this space.
“You’re supposed to be showing me how to make pasta,” I say after I catch my breath.
“Right,” he says, taking a quick sip of his wine. Then another one. “Okay, let’s get started.”
After dinner, we nestle down on the floor in front of his sofa and enjoy the view, chatting about what seems like everything while Billie Holiday plays in the background. I watch his mouth move in the flickering light of two candles, which blends nicely with the moonlight streaming into his apartment.
There’s something about Matt. Something comforting. Listening to his voice makes me feel like I’ve known him my whole life. Maybe that’s because we already know each other and I don’t feel like my past is sitting between us, creating a barrier that I’m afraid to climb over or get around.
As the light dances in his eyes, I feel myself not caring what it is.
Chapter Fifty-seven
February 1, 1995
I rush around my apartment, checking my watch every ten minutes or so as I eagerly wait for Matt to show up.
I’m glad the landlord gave me the okay to paint the walls gray and give the trim around my apartment a good coat of winter white. Every now and then, I find myself stopping to stare at the dark wood table with matching chairs that’s giving my kitchen a modern flair. The gray and white rug that Mary purchased gives my sofa and chair more style, and the few pieces of art that I found at a secondhand store add just the right pop of color to the space.
Of course, Jack almost lost his mind when I pulled more money out of my savings to do all of this, but once he
saw my apartment’s transformation, he agreed it was long overdue. Thanks to him, I now have a color television with a remote.
I hear the timer that I set for my roast as Matt walks in, wearing jeans and a navy-blue sweater. “Smells good.”
“Where’s your coat?” I ask as I pull the roast out of the oven.
“It’s not that cold out there.”
“It’s the middle of February, so yes, it’s cold.”
“Cold is what New York is around this time. That’s when I wear a coat.”
“Fair enough,” I say as he walks over and kisses me.
“I haven’t had a roast in a long time,” he says, glancing down at mine. “I love all the vegetables you have placed around it.”
“I hope you like it.”
“It smells too good for it to taste bad, but anything is possible,” he says, pulling me in for another kiss.
“Stop that before my roast gets cold,” I say, separating from him.
“I don’t mind a cold roast. It makes a great sandwich.”
“Well, I do mind, and I’m hungry.”
“Okay, I’ll give your lips a rest so they can get some food.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“My lips don’t.”
“Why don’t you pour us a glass of wine, and I’ll start the salad?”
I watch as he moves around my apartment like he’s been in it a hundred times. And at this point, that isn’t far from the truth. Matt and I spend every Tuesday and Wednesday either at his apartment or mine, and that’s if we aren’t going out. Mondays, of course, we spend with Jack and Mary. And of course, he still comes to every Sunday show at Jazzmyne’s with his aunt and uncle. Although, for the last couple of Sundays, Jack hasn’t been looking very well.
“Matt, do you think something is wrong with Jack?”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. It just seems like he’s been moving around gingerly lately, and he always seems to be tired.”
“Business at the restaurant has been crazy. We’ve even brought in more staff to help us keep up.”