“SHIT!” I yelled, turning and running back toward my apartment.

This was the closest Dean would ever come to commitment, and I had no shoes. I needed to find him. I needed to apologize for standing him up and I needed to find some freaking shoes!

It was already 7:30 PM. Dean definitely wasn’t still at the restaurant, so I took off in the direction of his house. I didn’t want to wait for a cab, so I hoofed it on foot, my flip-flops slapping against the concrete as I made a run for it. I turned the corner and took off down the sidewalk, nearly plowing down a girl Instagramming her ice cream cone.

“Watch it!” she spat as I brushed past her.

“No, YOU watch it,” I yelled back. I wasn’t taking anyone’s shit. I had to get across town and I couldn’t waste a single second.

Flip-flops were a terrible choice of footwear for a cross-Manhattan run. I knew I’d be nursing blisters for the next two years.

“Oh god, I’m not going to make it,” I hissed, leaning against a brick wall and trying to catch my breath.

I was almost there, but my heart was going to give out if I kept running. I turned to the side and caught sight of my reflection in the window of the building. Holy shit. Not good.

I hadn’t put makeup on that morning or washed my hair the night before. Not that it really mattered; most of the blonde strands were sticky with sweat and stuck to my forehead in a grungy sort of look. My cheeks were flushed, and my eyes were wide—that may sound cute, but it wasn’t. My black dress was stuck to my chest with sweat, but thankfully the dark color sort of concealed my general lack of hygiene.

I forced myself to ignore my appearance and kept going. I pushed off the wall and took a deep breath. Dean’s house was only a few blocks away.

I’m almost there.

Chapter Fifty-Two

Lily

I rang the doorbell twice and then knocked with my fist. The light turned on in the foyer and then his black lacquered door slid open. He stood on the other side, shirtless and silhouetted by the light behind him. His black drawstrings pants were untied and loose around his hips—clearly he didn’t know proper protocol for how to answer a door.

“You’re too late,” he said, careful to keep the emotion out of his voice.

I took a step back before meeting his gaze. I’d seen him angry before, on multiple occasions, but I’d never seen him defeated. His eyes were soft, his lips were downturned, and his brows were furrowed not in anger, but in pain.

“You named it after me,” I said, barely above a whisper.

He swallowed slowly and then nodded. “And every single dish was inspired by you, and every wine tastes like you, and every painting hung on the walls was commissioned in your honor.”

“Dean—”

“Too bad you missed it.”

“Show me,” I pleaded.

He took a step back. “I think I’m good.”

“Dean. Show me.”

He laughed, but it was a hollow sound, something I never wanted to hear again. “Antonio is gone. The food is in the restaurant’s kitchen, cold and forgotten.”

He moved to close the door, but I put my hand out to block its path. If he closed it, he’d chop my hand off. I wouldn’t put it past him, but I had to at least try to stop him.

“Dean. Please take me to Lirio.”

A tiny spark lit up behind his sad eyes. “I waited there for two hours. I sat in the restaurant by myself, waiting for the door to open. You never showed up and it’s too late to go back now.”

I could visualize him there perfectly, that glimmer of hope in his eyes. He’d thought I’d show. What had it felt like to put the food away in the fridge after waiting there alone for two hours? I wanted to wrap my arms around him and make it up to him, but I knew he would pull away. We didn’t work like normal people. We were stubborn and proud.

I knew I had to work for his forgiveness, so I took a step back and then felt for the hand railing on his stoop. I used it to guide me down the steps backward. All the while, he stood in his doorway, on the precipice of shutting me out of his life for good.

I kept walking backward, keeping my eyes on him until I was in the middle of the sidewalk. Then, I flung my arms out to my side and yelled at the top of my lungs, “I’m sorry! I’m SORRY! DO YOU HEAR ME NEW YORK CITY?!” I twisted around in a circle and yelled out to the houses around me.

“I stood up a wonderful man and I’M SORRRRYYYYYY!”

A car alarm went off a few streets over and I swore I heard a cat screech with annoyance down the block.

I stopped twirling and dropped my hands back to my sides, facing Dean with absolute abandon.

“I’m sorry,” I said, one last time, just for him. It was sincere and real and it was the best I could do.

We stood frozen, staring at one another. He kept his position in the doorway and I stayed outside, giving him space. I thought he’d turn and walk. After everything we’d put each other through, the odds of him loving me the way I loved him weren’t in my favor.

“Please,” I said, trying to convince him.

He inhaled a deep breath, shook his head, and then he held up a finger. “Lirio’s closed, but luckily, I know the owner.”

…

We didn’t speak the entire walk to the restaurant, and we tried our hardest not to look at one another. Every so often, I felt his eyes on me and I’d turn to face him. He’d glance away and I’d be left with a view of his profile, so achingly beautiful that I couldn’t help but stare for a moment. Halfway there, I couldn’t stand it any longer.

“I see you watching me,” he said.

“Look, I know we're still testing the waters here, and you’re doing me a big favor by agreeing to go with me, but…I ran all the way to your apartment in mismatched flip-flops and my feet are basically two giant blisters right now. Would you mind giving me a piggyback ride?”

He laughed and turned so I could hop onto his back. My feet thanked me the second I was off the ground.

“Better?" he asked.

I smiled. “Much.”

His grip tightened around my thighs and he carried me until we reached the restaurant.

The photo on the blog must have been recent because the windows of the restaurant were still taped up and the facade still lacked its finishing touches. The brick was painted black and the building was dark, but the streetlights illuminated a thin plastic banner hanging just above the door. Lirio was spelled across it in black scrolling letters.

“It’s beautiful,” I said, sliding my gaze to him.

He brushed off my compliment. “It’s not done yet.”

“Well, I love it already.”

His smile hit me full force when he turned to me. “Me too.”

“Did you taste the food earlier? When Antonio was here?”

He shook his head.

“Come on. Let’s heat it up and try it.”

“It won’t be nearly as good,” he said.

It was.

Of course Antonio would have plated the food with pretty details, but we managed just fine. The dishes were delicious, full of complex flavors that I had to sit and mull over as I chewed each bite. Dean and I fought each other for each morsel until the very end and even then, I still wanted more.

“Here,” he said, holding out his fork with the last bite of our dessert resting on top.

I smile and leaned forward, letting him feed me. The cheesecake tart with fresh blueberries was the perfect ending to the meal. The creamy texture rolled over my tongue and I let a soft moan escape my mouth.

“It’s exactly what I wanted,” I said, waving my hand over the empty plates and bowls. “This is the kind of meal I was expecting in Vegas.”

He nodded, watching me over the kitchen island.