Distraction (Westbrook Series Book 1) (28 page)

"Would mia donna prefer still
minerale
or water with gas?"

I glance at Sam in disbelief. "Sparkling water? I feel like I'm at a five-star restaurant, Sam."

Ricardo chuckles again. "That is the idea,
mia donna
. It means that these
unusual
accommodations are living up to Little Venice standards. My boss will be very pleased to know this." He smiles and winks at Sam this time. "Now, which would you prefer, Signora?"

"I'll splurge and go for bubbles. I've never actually had sparkling water before," I say, while shrugging.

"
Fantastico
. May I suggest you add a slice of fresh lemon to your bubbly? It is
most
refreshing."

I nod, trying to hold back my laughter. Sam is unusually quiet. His eyes are focused on me, while he carefully studies my reactions to everything.

Ricardo sets a basket of warm, fresh, assorted bread onto the table along with a smaller dish. He pours olive oil and balsamic vinegar onto the dish, and cranks the lever of a large wooden pepper mill, leaving behind a perfect sprinkling of fresh cracked pepper across the top of the mixture.

He places two leather-bound menus down in front of us, before he perfectly recites every item listed, along with a mouth-watering description of each.

He explains that our entire meal has been hand-prepared by none other than the famous head chef, Mr. Anthony Rentini himself. I wonder if there is an Italian chef in my mother's kitchen as we speak. This idea makes me want to burst out into a fit of laughter, but I do my best to suppress it until after Ricardo disappears.

I am holding my stomach and laughing so hard that my eyes are threatening to produce tears, yet again.

"Are you okay, Laila?" Sam asks, not quite understanding why I am laughing.

"This guy
cannot
be real. He is an actor you hired,
right?
I mean waiters like
that
only exist in movies, Sam."

Sam almost spits out his water, he is laughing so hard. "I know what you mean, but
no
. He is the
real
deal."

"Now, wait a minute. Let me get this straight. Little Venice
is a
real
restaurant?"

"It sure is. It's a brand new five-star
ristorante
featuring the
finest
Italian cuisine Brookville has to offer," Sam adds proudly.

"
Get out
!" I want to push him, the same way Elaine does on
Seinfeld.

"No joke, Lis." Sam's eyebrow pops up, as he takes a sip of his wine.

"How did
you
. . ." I start to ask.

"Ah, but a man has to have a few secrets of his own, don't you think?" His grin is just mocking me. He knows how badly I want to know. I decide to play along, for
now
. He
will
tell me later, though. Even if I have to drag it out of him.

Ricardo serves us our full five-course meal, which takes just under two hours for us to finish. We have food that I don't even know how to pronounce. The menu didn't help, either, since it is written entirely in Italian. By the time we get to the main entree, I wonder how I could possibly eat another thing. Somehow, I manage to find room in my stomach to at least try a couple of bites of my filet mignon, and the hand-rolled pasta.

I am unsure exactly how much wine I've consumed because Ricardo keeps filling up our glasses every time we take a sip. I do feel a little lightheaded, though, and wonder if I should stop. After much consideration, I convince myself that all of this food is bound to soak up the alcohol. If I am being completely honest with myself though, I just really like the wine, and am not ready to stop drinking it. It’s not like we are going anywhere tonight. Plus, my parents aren’t even coming home.

Between all of the lavish eating, Sam and I talk about everything.

He tells me about school and how he is double majoring in Business and Marketing. I am surprised to learn that he already has plans to continue on and get his
MBA
. Sometimes, Sam seems so much older than his age. He's always been wise beyond his years. It's one of the reasons my mom adores him so much.

He tells me all about a job that his father already has lined up for him. It's with a big ad agency in New York City. All he has to do is finish school, and the job is his for the taking, if he wants it. My stomach drops a little when I think about Sam being so far away. I'm not even sure where I will be going to college next year. I applied to four schools, none of which are in New York. He still has two more years before that would become a concern anyway. It's not at all hard to imagine us still together two years from now, though.

He talks a little about the frat house, and how even Kyle thinks the excitement is wearing off. "There is only so much partying and drinking you can do before it all starts to get boring," he says, followed by a sigh.

"I'm glad to hear that despite the relentless trouble Kyle gives Mom, he is
finally
growing up."

"Yeah, I'm not sure why he insists on torturing her. He is far more responsible than he lets on." Sam chuckles, and rolls his eyes while shaking his head.

"I kind of
like
having an inside scoop on my brother. I wouldn't know anything relevant about him if it weren't for you, Sam." Sam shifts in his chair, as if he is suddenly uncomfortable.

"Okay, enough about
me
. I want to learn more about
you
, Lis. You are obviously not the same little runt with pigtails in your hair and a tutu cemented around your waist that you used to be. What are you passionate about
now?
I mean other than
me,
of course," he teases.

I tell him all about theater, and my dream to some day become a big movie director. He probably thinks I have lofty, idealistic goals because the chances of that actually happening are pretty slim, but I don't care. If everyone said that, we'd never again have great movies. I tell him about the two film schools that I applied to in California.

"Those are my top two, but I also applied to both Mizzou and Northeastern. If I don't get into film school, I think Journalism would be pretty cool. I mean, we'll
see
if I am any good when I start writing for the school paper next year.”

"That is
awesome
, Lis. Are you sure you are
only
sixteen?" he asks with an easy smile spreading across his face.

"Well, only for another month," I remind him.

"It's just
amazing
how you know what you want and aren't afraid to go after it. You don't know how many girls I've dated that have no clue what they are going to do beyond the sorority house. You really don't act like you're in high school, Laila."

I can feel the heat rise into my cheeks as his gaze intensifies. It's weird to be on such an adult date, talking about mature things. I can't help but
feel
like I'm much older.

When Ricardo asks us if we are ready for dessert, I give Sam a terrified look.
There is no way I am eating another thing as long as I live
. Well, at least until my stomach doesn't feel like an overstuffed sausage.

"Ricardo, would you mind wrapping up dessert and leaving it behind in the kitchen?" Sam asks politely.

"Of course,
Signore
."

"Thank you. We need some time to digest this amazing meal, but you should go. I'm sure you have better things to do than hang out with us on a Friday night," Sam says with a warm smile.

"That is very kind of you. Would you like me to open another bottle of wine before I retire?"

Sam looks at me to see if I want any more. I shake my head.

"No thank you, Ricardo."

He pauses a moment, and looks at Sam expectantly. Sam simply nods. Ricardo pulls another vanilla colored envelope out of his pocket, and hands it to me.

"If that is one of those little cards that says
‘If we choose to, we may forgo our separate rooms and use the enclosed keycard to stay together in the fantasy suite’
I'm going to lose it," I joke. Sam chuckles, but Ricardo looks at me inquisitively.
Clearly, he is not a fan of the Bachelor.

"Thank you for everything, Ricardo. As usual, it was
perfecto
. On behalf of the lady and myself, please have a wonderful evening," Sam says warmly. He stands up to shake Ricardo's hand, while slyly slipping what must be his tip into his hand.

"Thank you, Signore," Ricardo says, while nodding enthusiastically. "I hope you and your
lovely
donna have a wonderful evening. Enjoy this beautiful night and God bless." Ricardo actually bows, which threatens yet another snicker from inside of me.

I still cannot believe this guy is real
. You could not write a better character than
Ricardo
. When I am sure he is gone, I allow myself to chuckle again lightly.

"Still don't believe he's real, do you?" Sam asks me with a goofy grin on his face.

"I mean
come on
, Sam. That guy could have been on Broadway. I think he may have missed his calling.

"He still could be. You know a lot of Broadway actors and actresses have to wait tables, and do other odd jobs in Brookville Square to pay the bills. It's a shame. Most of them never even make it to New York."

I finally settle down and stop laughing. Now, I am just staring at the little envelope, wondering what else he could possibly say to me.

"So,
how
did you arrange all of this? Do you
know
Anthony whatever his name is? This must have cost you a fortune, Sam.
How
did you pay for this?"

Sam laughs lightly and shakes his head. He looks thoroughly amused by my questions. "Laila,
please.
Don't worry your pretty little head about any of this. I have it all handled. So, are you going to open that or just stare at it all night," he teases.

I roll my eyes, and slip my fingers across the top of the envelope to tear it open. It is another monogrammed L card. When I open it, a tiny, gold chain necklace falls out onto my lap. I make myself read the card before I allow myself to pick up the necklace.

Laila,

I hope you had fun on our first real date. I want this to be a night you will never forget, and for you to know just how special you are to me. I look forward to many more dates with my beautiful girlfriend. I can't promise they will all be like this, but hopefully you like me enough to keep me around anyway.

Sam

I hold the chain up to the light, carefully studying it, as if it were a delicate piece of fine art. It might as well be. I trace my fingers along the curves of the small, gold heart-shaped pendant and the cursive gold L dangling from it. I run my fingers along the smooth lines of the heart admiring it.

"You should turn it over, Lis," Sam suggests.

I roll the pendant between my fingers. There, inscribed, are those bittersweet two words that I used to hate,
lil sis
. My heart flutters, and my eyes sting as the tears threaten release.

"Does this mean I get a rose?" I joke, hoping to keep the tears at bay, so Sam does not think I'm an emotional basket case.

Sam laughs, taking the necklace out of my hands so he can help me put it on. I hold my hair over my shoulder to the side, while he carefully drapes it across my collarbone. I can feel his hot breath on my neck, and it is sending thousands of electric pulses shooting down my spine and arms. Once the necklace is clasped, he pauses a moment before pressing his soft lips against the delicate skin behind my ear. Once again, I lose my ability to think. Instead of fighting it, I close my eyes and try to savor the moment.

"Thank you, Sam. Not just for the necklace, but for
everything
. Best date,
ever
. I really do feel like we were on an episode of the Bachelor." I pretend to look around dramatically. "Wait, this isn't the moment where the camera crew comes out and everyone says
You've been Punk’d,
is it?"

He laughs again, and shakes his head. "Wanna sit by the pool?" he asks. I nod, as he holds out his hand and waits for me to grab it.

I am sitting on the side of the pool with my dress hiked up to just above my knees, while my feet sway back and forth in the cool water. Sam is straddled behind me, with his pant legs rolled up and his arms wrapped around my waist. His feet keep tapping mine. Amos Lee's “Keep It Tight”
is playing in the background.