Last Minute Romance.

I was in full rush mode when I pushed through the ladies’ room door at the Olive Garden restaurant. Somewhere, out in the restaurant, my grandmother’s 90^th birthday party was probably going full stream, and I was ten minutes late, last time I checked my phone.

There was a gasp, and I froze as the door collided with something or someone soft.

 The door didn’t have a handle, so I grabbed the side and pulled quickly, just as whoever was behind it pushed in forward. I reared back just in time to avoid having my nose broken.

A hand with a perfect manicure gripped the door and a woman with a perfect blonde blow-out popped out from behind it.

“I am so sorry.” I began, but she held up one slender tipped finger and brought the newest Apple phone to her ear.

She glared at me before turning away. “Oh my God. Someone just tried to brain me with the door.”

“I said I was sorry.” I mumbled and turned to twin sinks, dumping my purse onto the black granite top.

We exchanged glares in the mirror, but I looked away first. I was the guilty party here and I did not have time.

I pushed my hair out of my eyes and dug for my brush and makeup bag as Blondie continue her conversation.

“This is surreal Emma. I am at an Olive Garden. An Olive Garden. It’s fucking mundane.” She turned towards the wall like it would give her privacy.

We were in a public restroom; the acoustic offered me every word.

I found my hair tie, turning I flopped over and attempted to gather my thick brown hair into some sort of socially acceptable style.

“Yeah, I’m still on that blind date.” Blondie huffed into her phone. “Yeah. He’s the one my aunt’s coworker set me up with. Jacob…Jason…no that’s not it. I’m bored. He’s a construction worker or something. Cute, but vanilla. What are you doing?”

Blondie was fast earning bitch status.

“What! You went to Benders without me!”

I startled, almost stabbing myself in the eye with a mascara wand. Again. Acoustics.

“Why would you do that to me, Emma?” she wailed. “This sucks. I’m on this stupid date.”

I rallied, attempting lip gloss until my hand was steadier.

I couldn’t come up with much sympathy for Blondie. Here, she was bitching about a boring date, and I was about to go to a family party sans beau.

Up until a week ago, I had been living with Michael, and my family loved him. I had seen the end coming and had finally gotten around to finishing things.

This party was going to be fun. I had a lot of explaining to do.

“Fuck it. This date is over. Order me an espresso martini, and I’ll be there in a minute.”

I stared at the reflection of the door closing behind Blondie caught between shock at her rudeness and admiration at her bold decision. Girl was a boss, a selfish boss.

I exited the restroom and was just in time to see Blondie getting into a classy little car that was parked in the front of the restaurant.

A young woman with a server apron emblazoned with Olive Garden came to stand beside me.

 “Are you kidding me!” she exclaimed. “A Date and Dash. Great!”

“A Date and Dash, you mean a Dine and Dash?” I asked.

“No, a Date and Dash, she just left this poor guy. He asked me to check on her in the restroom. Now, I have to break it to him that his date just ran out on him. He seems really nice. This sucks.”

“Sure does.” I reminded myself. Not my circus, not my monkeys. Oh yeah, circuses. “Could you tell me where the Gallo party is seated?”

I was following the young woman towards the back of the restaurant where, by the sound of it, the Gallo party was in full swing, when she paused. “Oh God. There he is. How am I going to say this?”

He sat at a corner booth, his features taut with concern and impatience.

Vanilla? Hot fudge sundae was more like it.

His eyes widened when he spotted the server.

Then his eyes flickered to me.

Those warm chocolate eyes scanned me before he frowned and with a little shake of his head brought his gaze back to the server.

 “You know what, let me handle this.”

She mouthed “Thank You.” Over her shoulder.

I slid into the empty bench across from him with a smile. “Okay, Jacob Jason. I have good news and bad news.”

His brow raised, and he craned his neck, following the retreating server. “Okay. Who are you? Is Jessica alright?”

“She looked fine when she got in her car and drove away a minute ago.”

His gaze whipped back to me.

“Tell me this is a joke.” He groaned.

He had dark brown hair that fell in waves across his broad forehead. He smelled like tomato sauce and garlic with an underlining hint of some woodsy scent.

“I’m afraid not. Believe me, she did you a favor. Is it Jacob or Jason?”

He poked at the last bits of pasta with his fork, looking a little dejected, before leaning back with a scoff, dragging a large hand down his breaded chin.

 “My name is Jack. She didn’t seem very interested. Was on her phone most of the time. So, are you a friend of Jessica? Is this some sort of tap out?”

It was my turn to scoff. “Nooo. In fact, I almost brained her with a restroom door. Yeah, Blondie isn’t Miss Manners. So, you’re a construction.”

“I’m a contractor. I didn’t catch your name.”

“So sorry, Isabella Gallo.” I reach a hand across the table.

When our hands connected, it was as if he transferred some of his body heat. It swam, warm and comforting, up my hand and through my chest. Woah!

“That name sounds Italian. Do Italians consider Olive Garden authentic?” 

“The tiramisu is pretty good.”

He leaned forward and gave me a gooey smile. “Can I interest you in some tiramisu?”

I leaned in also. “Can I interest you in some birthday cake? How would you like to go to a party?” 

His head titled as he studied me. “Who’s Birthday?”  

I gestured towards the raised voices and laughter coming from the back of the restaurant. “That is my family. It’s my Nonna’s 90^th birthday party.”

The thick dark brows raised again. “That’s an old lady’s birthday party? I thought it was a bachelor party.”

“Full disclosure. Just a few facts. “I started. “First. Big Family! Big judgements. I am the youngest of five and the only unmarried one out of the bunch. How okay are you with playing my new boyfriend?”

“What happened to the old boyfriend?”

“I broke up with him. I rehearsed the whole spiel in my head a dozen times and finally came up with the ever popular “It’s not you, it’s me.” Except, when I finally said the words, it came out “It’s not me, it’s you.” I mused thoughtfully at the memory.  And I realized, at that moment, that statement was true.”

Jack laughed.

I liked his laugh.

He flagged down the server and she came over with a sheepish grin and an apology. He seemed to handle his abandonment pretty well as he paid out two meals with what looked like a Master Card Gold Card (What?) and slid out of the booth, and I got my first real look at Jack.

He towered over me at about six feet and some change. He wore forest green button up that did wonders for those brown eyes, with jeans that were loose and straight, ending in a pair of nice dark boots.

 “You, sir, will do nicely.”

He grinned down at me when I began a slow clap, moving aside as I shouldered my bag and slip out to stand beside him.  

He did that adorable head tilt again, and I felt a little shiver when those eyes returned my appraisal.

“You, ma’am, are perfection.”  

I could feel my face flush. Good God, I hadn’t blushed since grade school.

I gave myself a mental shake and slipped my hand into the arm he offered.

We walked into the chaos that was my family.

The staff had pushed together four tables, but our family still spilled out amongst the booths close by.

At the head of the table, in a place of honor, sat Nonna.

A paper crown covered in gold crayon sat on her tight gray curls, her wide ruby painted grin splitting her face as she watched her children, grandchildren and great grandchildren along with cousins leaning out into the aisle, gesturing, laughing, talking, auguring with each other, happy with the boisterous bedlam.

Her bright eyes found us before anyone else.

“Isabella!”

The whole room went quiet, and all eyes turned to us.

I felt Jack tense beside me and thought I heard a soft. “Damn.”

“You were warned.” I whispered out the side of my mouth.

I slide my hand down and he gripped it.  

Our eyes met. I could see a challenge in his eyes and knew everything would be just fine.

For tonight.  And Tomorrow?

“Nonna! Happy Birthday!”