Page 56 of With Love

“Can I get you anything to drink?” Chef asks.

“Can you bring us a glass of the Tormaresca Negroamaro too, please?”

“Marshall, you know I don’t drink.” I whisper once Chef is out of earshot. “I don’t like the way it makes me feel. Not to mention, it’s only 8:30 in the morning.”

“I know you don’t and I’m not going to make you. But smells and tastes can be crucial when trying to trigger a memory. You can taste it, smell it, or do nothing. It’s completely up to you, I just wanted to throw the offer out there. Also, I know it’s early so if your stomach isn’t ready for some pasta, then please don’t feel pressured to eat it.”

“No, I’m starving. I could literally eat a horse right now,” I say with a slight laugh.

Marshall places his arm around my shoulders and it has me thinking more that I blew things out of proportion yesterday. There is no way he would be going to all of this effort if he didn’t want me anymore. Leaning into his side, he kisses me on the top of my head. It feels wonderful in his arms.

“You know, when I would cook puttanesca at Lock’s and even when I cooked it a couple weeks ago when Owen first arrived, I had no idea that it was a famous recipe. I thought I was just throwing things together and got lucky that it tasted good.”

“After we’d been dating for a while, we came here one night and Emiliano ended up joining us for dinner. You mentioned that the puttanesca was your favorite dish on the menu. You asked him for the recipe and he was adamant that he would never give it up, but he did. He catered our wedding and framed the recipe as a wedding present for us.”

“Oh, wow! That’s so cool. Do you still have it?”

“Yeah,” he answers with that killer smile of his.

Just then, Emiliano appears with a single bowl of pasta for us to share.

“Let’s dig in. We have a long list of things to do today,” Marshall explains.

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