“Seriously. I owe you for giving me Jaime, making me a dad. For making our home a safe place. I used to love coming home to our house in New Rochelle. And that was because of you.” He poured more wine into her glass and handed it to her.
Taking the wine, Joy immediately sipped it to keep from spouting off about Tony’s commentary and warped memory.
“I owe you so much, Joy.” He toasted her. “To my amazing wife.”
“Ex-wife,” she said in a small voice. “First ex-wife.” She chortled.
Tony set down his glass and slouched. “I guess you’ll never forgive me for what I did.”
“I have forgiven you.” Joy sat back.
But he continued to pout.
“I just haven’t forgotten what you did, Tony.” She smirked. “And let’s face it—that’s really what you want more than forgiveness, isn’t it?”
A tear ran down his cheek. He quickly wiped it away.
“Look, if Tiffany hadn’t left you, you and I wouldn’t be sitting here,” she said.
He looked up with red-rimmed eyes. “I know, Joy. I know.” He reached for her hand. “But she did leave me, and we are here together.”
Joy took his hand. He squeezed her finger and the familiar feeling made her relax. She smiled a genuine smile.
“And I don’t think it’s a coincidence.” Tony winked. “It could be a sign.”
“Or just that you had Italy on your mind when planning your honeymoon?”
The waiter approached, and Tony ordered a stiffer drink.
They talked about the Italian countryside, food, and the various sites until the waiter brought their food. They ate in silence for a while.
As a live band set up on the patio outside, Joy wondered what kind of music they might play. “Maybe they’ll play some jazz?”
Tony nodded and used his napkin to wipe his mouth. “Maybe.” He smiled. “I remember how you love jazz.”
“And that little club we used to go to in the village?” She ate her ravioli and moaned from the glorious sage flavor of the chicken inside.
“Good?”
“Very.” She used her fork to feed him some ravioli. “Well?”
He closed his eyes and chewed. “Yes.” Then he fed her his pasta in cream sauce.
“Delicious.”
“How did you come to work for Dina and . . .” He tried to remember Vito’s name.
“Vito. Actually it’s a funny story. I just happened upon them prepping for a wedding reception in a part of the piazza.” Joy shrugged. “I helped them, and they offered me a job.”
“They seem . . . nice?” He chuckled.
“Protective.” Joy held up her wine glass. “I told them about you and me and what happened.”
He raised his chin. “Ah. No wonder.”
“They’re just old-fashioned.” Joy laughed. “And sweet.”
“I’m glad you’re having such a wonderful time in Italy. You deserve it, Joy.”
The band outside played light jazz, and Joy’s eyes widened. “I love it.” She spun around in her chair and watched them play as patrons sat at bistro tables in the patio.
The waiter took away their dishes and asked if they wanted dessert. Tony ordered tiramisu for two and coffee. When the dessert arrived, he found them a table outside.
“This is nice,” he said as he ate a forkful of tiramisu. “Fantastic.”
“It is.” Joy savored the delicious cake. “Fabulous.”
When the band played My Funny Valentine, three couples danced slowly on a tiny dance floor. Tony stood and adjusted his coat. “Shall we?”
Joy swallowed more cake and wiped her mouth with her napkin. “What?”
He held out his hand. “Come on. Dance with me. For old times’ sake?”
Joy paused, staring at his extended hand.
And she was back in the high school gymnasium again.
Then she took his hand. “Why not?” She did love jazz, after all. And she always did love dancing with Tony. They fit together perfectly.
