Let Love Heal

Hmm. He might not have been too far off base talking about that insane girl logic.

He brings our entwined hands up to his lips and continues explaining himself while I’m still somewhat distracted by my smutty daydream. “I’m picking you up tomorrow at noon. You’re spending the entire day with me and I am going to show you, beyond any measurable doubt, why I want to be with you.”

He doesn’t actually ask me, so I can’t actually say no. All I can do is nod my agreement and bask in the feel of his lips pressing up against my cheek once again.

Bryan doesn’t let go of my hand as he walks over to the door. Leaning up against the frame, he says, “So I’ll pick you up tomorrow at noon. Be sure to wear sneakers.” His instruction on what kind of shoes to wear catches me off guard. With what I’m sure is a rather stupefied and dumbfounded look plastered to my face, he smirks at me and winks before walking down the hallway and out of the building.

* * *

“I really can’t believe you’ve never hiked the gorges before.” Bryan playfully mocks my inexperience as he pulls out my chair at the restaurant. A two-hour hike was the reason he told me to wear sneakers and I’m glad I listened. We’re on part two of our date, and if it’s half as successful as part one, I’ll be one happy girl.

We both went back to our dorms after our hike to wash away the grime and get ready for tonight. Maddy helped me pick out my outfit, and with a few finishing touches to my hair and make-up – which I kept soft and simple – I feel beautiful.

When I told her about what happened with Bryan, she told me to just go for it. Actually, she was beyond giddy that I finally decided to give him a chance.

Unfolding my napkin and placing it across the pleated navy-blue skirt of my Marilyn Monroe inspired dress, I stick my tongue out at him. “Cut me some slack, will you? I’ve only been here a few weeks. You’ve lived in Ithaca for years now.”

Reaching for my hand across the cream-colored linen tablecloth, his eyes shine in the flickering candle light. “Did you have fun though?” he asks timidly.

I can’t stop the face-splitting smile that pulls at the corners of my mouth. “I had a blast, Bryan. I had no idea that Hemlock Gorge was so beautiful. I can’t wait to see the pictures that we took.”

“We could go to another one next weekend if you’d like. Another gorge, I mean. There are hundreds of them, you know.” Bryan’s face lights up with pride as he takes a sip of his water.

“I’d really like that, Bryan,” I say softly as I squeeze his hand before reaching for my water.

“So my plan worked then?” His question catches me off guard. I didn’t realize that he had a plan.

“What do you mean? What plan?” I ask genuinely confused.

“Yesterday, I told you that I would show you why I want to be with ‘someone like you’ – whatever that’s supposed to mean.” In true dork fashion, he actually uses air quotes around the words “someone like you”. He ignores my light laughter at his inherent dorkiness, and continues his little explanation. “There was something about you. I could tell, from the moment I met you, that you were different. That you saw beauty in things that other people might ignore. I can’t tell you how many times I asked Courtney to go hiking with me. But she always said no. Too much mud, too many bugs – you name it and I’ve heard it as an excuse.” He stares into my eyes. “After a while, I guess I just got tired of hearing excuses.”

Just as I place my glass back on the table, an older, very grandmotherly-looking woman approaches the table. She’s wearing a sauce-smeared apron and is glowing with pride as she approaches Bryan. When he sees her, whoever she is, walking toward us, he stands from his chair and wraps his arms around her.

“It’s so good to see you, Bryan.” The older woman’s eyes sparkle with love and affection as she holds Bryan at arm’s length. “We might need you to come in next week and repair that whatchamacallit thingy … that makes the computer or the internet … or whatever work.” Her words are spoken through a heavy Italian accent and she’s waving her arms all over the place in front of her as she talks, trying to explain something about which she obviously knows so little.

Bryan stifles a laugh and says, “Sure thing. I’ll come by on Monday after classes to take a look at the server.”

“Perfect.” She clasps her hands in front of her chest and turns toward me as if she’s just realizing that Bryan is not alone. “Oh and who is this lovely lady, Bryan?” I stand to greet her but can’t help the blush that colors my face at her compliment.

“Bella, I’d like you to meet Melanie.” I extend my hand to hers and she pulls me in for a hug. Shaking his head at her outward show of affection, he continues, what now seems to be, an unnecessary introduction. “And Melanie, this is Bella.” Finally making the connection between her appearance and her name, I piece together that she must be the owner.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Bella. This place is beautiful.” Scanning the quaint Italian bistro, I take in the quiet and romantic ambiance. And, if the smells coming out of the kitchen are any indication, the food must be excellent.

Her round and wrinkled face glows with pride. “Thank you, Melanie. Bella Cucina’s has been my heart and soul for the last twenty-five years.”

“You’re going to love the food, Melanie. Bella here makes the world’s best gnocchi,” Bryan says as he takes his seat. I return to mine and Bella dismisses his compliment, but I see the smile curving her lips.

“Well, now. I can’t refuse a house specialty, can I? Gnocchi it is,” I say as I hand her my untouched menu.

“I’ll have the same,” Bryan says as he hands her his menu as well.

“Perfect. You will not be disappointed.” Bella takes our menus and proudly walks toward the kitchen to make us our dinner.

“She’s really sweet. How long have you known her?” I angle my head in the direction of the kitchen.

“Yeah, she is. I’ve known her and Gus, her husband, since my freshman year. That’s when I started updating their technology systems in here. They’re very close friends with Professor O’Neil and his wife.”

“So was it like a side-job? I mean setting up their computers? Or did O’Neil just want to test out your skills before he hired you?” I quirk an inquisitive, yet still playful eyebrow at him. It just seems unlikely that someone, a college freshman no less, would want to help someone else without any kind of retribution.

“There’s always got to be a motive with you, huh.” Bryan points an accusing finger at me and laughs. “No. It wasn’t a job or a test or anything like that. They needed help. The restaurant was in danger of going under if it didn’t update and branch out. Bella and Gus knew nothing about social media and advertising, so I brought them into this century, because-”

I cut him off before he can finish. I arch my eyebrows and say, “Because you wanted a place to bring all your dates to impress them, huh?” My words are meant to be light and flirty, but as soon as they’re out of my mouth, I realize that he must have come here with Courtney, often.

Damn, I am such a fool, thinking I was special or something like that.

Bryan’s eyes narrow on mine when he sees the disgust settle in. He grasps my hand across the table and through a clenched jaw, he says, “Stop it, now. I told you I would show you why I liked you and I am. By bringing you here, I am. Can I try and explain?”

“Please do,” I quip.

That tone garners an eye roll. “First of all, I have never brought Courtney here. She always thought this place was, I don’t know, not classy enough for her or something like that. So, for your information, you are the first date I’ve ever brought here. Okay?” His tone and grip on my hand have softened; his eyes have calmed. Bringing my hand up to his mouth, he plants a soft kiss on my knuckles.

Appeased, I decide to approach this in a less-guarded manner. Maybe it will make me look like less of an ass. “You said ‘first of all.’ Is there more?” Batting my eyelashes, I give him my best pouty face. He sees the apology there and laughs at my silliness.

“God, you’re a trip, Melanie.”

Needing to keep my hands occupied, I reach for a piece of bread from the basket that the waitress has just brought to us. After dunking it in the olive oil, I bring it to my lips and catch Bryan staring at me.

“That right there is another reason,” he says; his voice is all throaty and gruff.

“What? Bread is another reason you like me?” I arch an eyebrow at him.

“Not bread, specifically. It’s just that, you’re not picky. When I asked you out, you didn’t even ask where we