Page 28 of Count Down
“23rdand Fairmount.”
Luca looks at me, slightly lifting his eyebrow. He recognizes the location. “Where are we eating?”
“A Mano,” I say, holding up the bottle of wine. “Do you know it?”
“I love it.” Luca pulls out of his parking spot and heads south toward Fairmount.
I hoped he would like it. It’s handcrafted Italian. BYOB, but still a little pricey. I want to show him that I’m thankful for all of his help, and I still have some money from the watch my mother gave me.
My new neighborhood is close to Temple University. It’s a fun and lively area. There are a ton of pizza places and wing places immediately around here. A Mano is only a little over a mile toward downtown and within several minutes Luca is parking on a side street nearby.
He holds my hand as we walk the half block to the restaurant. It almost feels natural. It feels more natural than if we weren’t holding hands. I love the feel of his fingers entwined with mine. I love the signals he’s sending me.
The restaurant is a small one-story red brick building on the corner. Luca opens the door for me as we enter.
“Are you checking in for a reservation?” The hostess asks.
“Yes. Two for Nicoletti.”
I catch Luca quickly glancing at me before he recovers his surprise. He looked startled to hear my last name.
“Follow me.” The hostess leads us to a corner near the window. I take a seat against the bench on the wall and Luca takes the seat across from me. The hostess leaves us with some menus and then returns to her stand to check in the next people.
“Good thing you made reservations.” Luca looks around at the buzz of the restaurant. At the other end you can see some of the kitchen over a counter. The cooks look busy and the wait staff bustles back and forth between tables and the kitchen counter.
“Yeah,” I open my menu. “Get whatever you want. Remember this is my treat.”
Luca looks at me over his menu. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I couldn’t have done that move without you. I would have had to rent a truck and somehow carry my furniture up and down the stairs by myself. Plus, I’m glad I didn’t have to drive it.”
Luca smiles at me then returns to his menu.
When our waiter comes, we order focaccia and burrata for starters. I order porcini lumachelle and Luca orders pasta alla chitarra.
“So, you’ve been here before?” I pick the conversation back up after our waiter leaves.
“Yeah, a few times. I like to eat out a lot.”
My cheeks warm and I can feel them flush. I set my glass down, glad that I hadn’t taken a sip yet and cover my mouth. I’m about to burst out laughing at what Luca just said, but when I look at him, he’s not even grinning.
“What?” Luca asks. His face cracks when he realizes what he just said. “No! That’s not what I meant.” He chuckles and shakes his head.
“I’m sorry,” I sigh. “I’m being childish.”
“I’m not above a good euphemism. I’m just annoyed I missed it.” Luca runs his fingers through his hair.
“Anyways. You like going to restaurants?” I pick up my glass hoping it’s safe to take a drink now.
“I do.” Luca grins. “I’ve probably been to every Italian restaurant in Philadelphia.”
“Really? What’s your favorite?”
Luca thinks for a moment. “Olive Garden.”
I laugh. This time a woman from another table looks over at me. It’s not like it’s quiet in here, but I still throw my hand over my mouth trying to quiet my laugh.
“Really, I’m not sure,” Luca continues. “There’s a lot of variables. Mood. Time of year.”