Page 113 of Ruins
“Seven.”
He nods, considering. “Meet me back here at four-thirty. That’ll give us plenty of time to cook, then you can change and set up the dining room before he gets home.”
Excitement flutters in my chest. “Wonderful! Thank you so much, Julian.”
I pop my last carrot into the hummus, flash him a grateful smile, and rush off—eager to get back to my painting and to what I hope will be a perfect night.
I spend the next few hours lost in my work, the brushstrokes flowing effortlessly. Each stroke feels like a step closer to somethingreal, something that has weight, something just for me. The afternoon melts away in a blur of color and motion, my heart light, my mind at ease.
When I finally glance at the clock, my stomach flips. Four-thirty.
I rush to the kitchen, where Julian is already waiting, a grin on his face and an apron in his hands.
“Ready to cook?”
“Yes” I reply, slipping on the apron and rolling up my sleeves, determination and excitement humming beneath my skin.
Julian walks me through each step. We start with the garlic and onions, chopping them finely before they sizzle in olive oil, filling the air with an intoxicating aroma. The pancetta crisps up next, its golden edges curling slightly in the pan. As I whisk eggs with Parmesan, freshly cracked pepper, and a pinch of salt, my hands feel steady—more confident than I expected.
Time flies.
Between playful banter and shared laughter, my nerves settle into something warm, something giddy. By the time we pour the velvety sauce over the perfectly cooked spaghetti and stir in the pancetta, a rush of pride swells in my chest.
I did it!
I made Carbonara for Santo.
I hope he loves it.
With Julian’s nod of approval, I set the table carefully, choosing the blue ceramic plates Winnie mentioned were his favorite. The heavy silver cutlery is polished to perfection, the crystal glassware catching the flickering candlelight just right. I step back, taking in the setting, adjusting a candle slightly before exhaling in satisfaction. Everything is going according to plan.
Choosing my dress takes longer than I anticipated; I want it to be perfect for tonight.
Tonight could bethenight.
He said when I was willing and I am more than willing. Finally, I settle on a soft cream-colored silk dress that hugs my figure delicately - sexy yet elegant; hopefully he will think so.
As seven o’clock inches closer, anticipation bubbles inside me, making my stomach flutter. The scent of Carbonara drifts up from the kitchen, rich and inviting, filling the house with warmth.
Tonightwillbe different everything will be perfect.
I hear the front door opening and my heart flutters in my chest. I hope he can see the want in me and make a move.
I smooth my dress one last time, stealing a glance at my reflection. My skin is flushed, my eyes bright with excitement, with hope. This is it. I descend the stairs, my pulse quickening with every step.
Santo steps inside, his sharp gaze sweeping over me. For a second, just a second, I catch something in his eyes. Surprise.
He notices.
My face warms under his gaze, my anticipation spilling over as I reach the last step.
“Welcome home, Santo.”
The words come out soft, almost breathless. Tonight is the night.
Chapter 24
Santo
