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Zara stops, and Cole with her.
“Oh no. I’m so sorry.”
Yeah, me too.
“It’s fine. Just happened.”
I almost clarify it’s been ten days and five hours. But that would mean I’m keeping track. Which I obviously am, but wish I wasn’t. “Less than two weeks ago.”
She waits for more, so I offer the sucky details.
“He broke up with me.”
“Are you serious? What an idiot.”
Almost thirty. Single again. Yeah, super fun.
“You guys dated for like . . .”
“A year and a half,” I provide. “But it’s ok.”
Although really, it’s not. The whole thing sucks.
“His sister’s engagement party was the straw that broke the camel’s back. He didn’t understand how I could take time off this weekend but not for that.”
Cole frowns. “Doesn’t his sister live in Newport?”
“Yeah. So it would have been a whole weekend. I can’t afford to take that much time away from the restaurant. Especially not now.”
Zara nods in understanding. “When are they coming?”
We begin to walk again.
“The judges?”
“Mm-hmm.” She takes Cole’s arm again.
“The first two weeks in June. They don’t give an exact date. One day—poof!—they’ll just appear.”
I’ve got big plans for my parents’ restaurant. A way to honor them, and especially my mom, who started it almost thirty years ago. If Mama Leoni’s is ever going to win a Beard Award, this is as good a first step as any. The Cucina Award might not be as prestigious, but it will get us on the map, something a small-town restaurant needs to attract national attention. If I were in New York City, that would be a totally different story.
But that ship has sailed.
“You must be a nervous wreck.”
“Cole,” Zara chides him, “some tact, please?”
He doesn’t seem concerned by Zara’s reprimand. Actually, he seems amused by it. Cole loves to tease her.
“Oh, wow.”
As we get to the entrance, what looks like a movie scene comes into view. Even though I’ve been here before, I’m not at all prepared for the transformation.
Although it maintains that rustic feel—we are in a barn, after all—there’s an elegance to the room that I don’t remember. Wisteria hangs from every ceiling beam with white lights everywhere. Although it’s still bright outside, the barn is dark enough that the lights glow, highlighting crisp white linens and flowers that are all cream or white, their leaves the only color. The effect is magical.
“Did you ever see anything like it?” Zara whispers to no one in particular.
I’m about to respond when I finally pick my jaw up off the floor and realize the groom’s brother is giving a toast.
