Cold Feet Novel Excerpt

Cold Feet

by Amy Lamare

Prologue

Maybe I should just go out and have the Chinese symbol for serenity tattooed on my ass. Maybe that would keep me from making one of myself. Maybe that would allow me to have some for myself. I wonder what the Chinese symbol for serenity is, anyway, I thought.

“Nina, Nina, are you even listening to me?”

I looked up from the papers Doug had handed me and tried, really tried, to focus on what he was saying. Which was exceedingly difficult given the information he had just handed me.

“So, in short, my mother is wondering if you would prefer the salmon poached or broiled.”

I’m sure I looked like the village idiot when I looked at him. I just couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“What salmon, Doug?”

He sighed in exasperation and vehemently took the papers out of my hands and held them about two inches from my nose.

“The salmon we’re serving at our reception. Haven’t you been listening to me at all?”

Now I should take a moment and defend myself. I was listening, but I’d been a bit distracted lately. You see, Doug and I were getting married in exactly one week, he and his mother had just unilaterally decided to change the menu I had so carefully planned months before, and I had been having these doubts…well, maybe not doubts, exactly, but I was having these dreams about my ex-boyfriend Jack and they were…vivid. To say the least. And I was very quietly becoming unglued. And then my beloved fiancée springs salmon on me. Of all things, salmon. He should have known better.

“Doug, you know I don’t eat salmon. Or fish of any kind, for that matter.” Was he daft?

“I know, that’s why we’ve arranged chicken for you.”

I had been sitting on the couch, having a nice peaceful cup of coffee before going into work when Doug had hit me with his little plan. I hadn’t even finished the coffee yet. He was well aware that it is impossible for me to think clearly until a sufficient amount of caffeine is in my blood stream. That’s what was so damn diabolical about his plan.

I stood up, taking my coffee cup with me into the kitchen.

“Doug, we’re not changing the menu…”
“But my mother…”

“Apparently relishes the idea of me spending my wedding reception green and vomiting in the bathroom.” Doug looked confused, so I continued. “Doug, you know I’m allergic to seafood, that the very smell of it sends me running for a toilet.”

“Oh Nina, come on, its not that bad. You deal with seafood everyday at the restaurant.”

Was he serious? Or was he suffering from short term memory problems?

“Doug, we don’t serve any seafood. Or haven’t you noticed in the hundreds of times you’ve been there in the last year?”

“I…well…”

“Yep. That’s right. We don’t serve any, because I am the owner, I am in the kitchen all the time, and I am allergic. Violently allergic. Now how did that little fact escape your memory?” Really. I mean had he been paying attention at all in the year we’d been dating?

Now my friends would have you believe that I am suffering from classic pre-wedding jitters. You see, I’m getting married in seven days. But its deeper than that. More serious than that. More like Cold Feet, no frigid feet, frigid feet that’ve been out in the cold for so long that several toes have fallen off from frostbite. And Doug wasn’t making it any better. In fact, he seemed to be doing his damndest to drive me round the bend as quickly as possible.

I’ve been having these dreams. Which everyone keeps trying to tell me are normal. The jitters thing again. But I’m telling you. These are not normal. Take last night for instance.

There I was, at the entrance to the cathedral that Doug and I would be marrying in. Everything was in place. The flowers, the bridesmaids, the guests. Doug was beaming, positively beaming, at me from the altar. I started my sojourn down the aisle, and noticed the horrified stares of my guests. What was their problem, I thought as I snapped my gum.

That’s when I realized I was having another one of those dreams. I blew a huge pink bubble and looked down at my ensemble. Gone were the miles of silk and tulle I’d spent months in fittings for. In its place: a leather miniskirt, which frankly left me with a bit of a draft on my derriere, a red vinyl bustier, fishnet stockings and ankle boots. I shrugged and continued down the aisle. This ought to be good, I thought.

Midway through our vows, the door to the cathedral burst open and in roared a Harley Hog carrying my ex boyfriend Jack in black leather pants and black leather jacket (the man has those kind of looks where he really should wear nothing but black leather, ever) -open to his bare and yummy chest. Open enough to show the tattoo over his heart. The one that matched the tattoo on my shoulder blade. The Celtic symbol of everlasting love.

“Hiya Angel,” he said as he roared up to the altar.

“Cutting it a little close, dontcha think Jack?” I said.

He smiled, reavealing the small gap between his front teeth. God damn that slight imperfection was seductive. “I’m here now,” he said.

And the next thing I knew, I was hopping onto the back of his hog, throwing my bouquet to Doug and roaring off down the aisle with my arms wrapped around Jack and hands exploring his chiseled chest.

Then, not five minutes after I woke up, before I’d finished even half a cup of coffee, Doug hits me with this salmon thing. I couldn’t even focus on what he was saying. I wondered if the heroines of the novels on my nightstand, Bridget Jones and Tiffany Trott, would be so eager to get married if they had any idea of the sabotage that awaited them.

“Nina, you’re over re-acting again. We’ll fix it. Well, I’ve got to get to work. We’ll talk about this tonight.”

Doug bent over and kissed me like a small and petulant child.

“Doug, there’s nothing to talk about,” I said as stood up. “We are having Prime Rib. Tell your mother to stay out of it.”

I went into the bathroom and shut the door. I leaned against the back of the door and slunk to the floor. I looked at the counter top. Doug’s side was neat as a pin. All the tops were on the bottles and tubes and they were arranged by height–tallest in the center and out to the shortest on either side. The tile gleamed. The mirror had no smudges. I looked at my side. A mess. Bottles and tubes open. My concealer spilled out of the tube, my mousse was overflowing its spout, the mirror was smudged with lotion and hairspray. There was a fine dusting of powder and blush on the tiles. It all seemed like some cosmic sign.

Doug’s towels were neatly folded and hanging from the towel bars. His clothes were all inside the hamper. My towels were on the towel bars–albeit in a random, haphazard, okay–sloppy–fashion. And my dirty clothes? They were near the hamper if not exactly inside the hamper. It had been proven that cat people and dog people could not live together. Could a neat freak and a slob?

“Have a great day, Nina love. I’ll see you tonight. I’m leaving some dry cleaning on the bed if you wouldn’t mind dropping it off for me. You should take your red sweater in with this stuff…it’s been awhile since you last cleaned it.” Doug called to me through the door.

And that’s when I started banging my head against the door. The harder I hit it, the less I thought about salmon, about the wedding, about Doug, about Jack. Shit. Jack. See my friends are definitely wrong. This is more than just the jitters.

I think I’m still in love with Jack.

Chapter One: A History Lesson

Doug and I met two years ago at my restaurant. My best friend and business partner Jodi Sansone and I own Michaelangelo’s Gourmet Pizza Grotto in the North Beach section of San Francisco. We serve specialty pizzas. I’m not talking pineapple, either. Chicken Pesto pizza is one of our best sellers, followed pretty closely by our Greek pizza–which has a lemon vinaigrette sauce in place of your usual tomato with kalamata olives, red onions, walnuts and feta cheese. It tastes even better than it sounds.

We had only been open a few weeks the night Doug came in with his date. Jack and I were trying out a “temporary separation.” That is, I could not pass up the opportunity to open my dream restaurant and so I moved back to San Francisco. He had just bought the deep sea fishing charter company from his retiring boss and chose to stay in San Diego. There were a lot of arguments and tears and accusations. We were at an impasse. In order to achieve more professionally we had to break away personally. He didn’t see why I had to open the restaurant in San Francisco, I didn’t see why he couldn’t run his charter company out of San Francisco. He knew that I always planned on returning to Northern California from the day we moved to San Diego. I thought it was his plan too. But more on that later.

Doug came in, conservative and preppy in khakis and a denim shirt and tie. His date, his blind date, could only be described as well, if Doug took his style cue from Brooks Brothers, his date took hers from Kelly Osbourne. Only instead of fuschia, his date’s hair was blond with purple streaks. Doug looked uncomfortable, but politely uncomfortable. They amused me all night.

I was making my nightly rounds through the restaurant, talking to the customers, making sure everything was all right. When I approached Doug’s table, his date excused herself to go to the restroom. Doug breathed a sigh of relief when she was out of hearing distance. I couldn’t help but smile.

“Wow. Blind date. Not that I’m making excuses for her appearance or anything.”

“I had you two pegged for a blind date from the moment you walked in. Somehow, your personal senses of style seem, well, like polar opposites.”

Doug laughed. A nice, masculine, deep from his diaphragm laugh. I liked the sound of it.

“I’m Nina Marinelli. Owner and chef. Just checking in, making sure everything is okay with your order and everything.” I was flustered and not sure why. I was not usually attracted to such conservative guys. But there was something about him. He seemed controlled. In control. Sure of himself.

“Everything is superb. The Chicken Pesto pizza is amazing, truly amazing. Do I taste lemon in it?”

I smiled what I hoped was an enigmatic smile. “Now, now I can’t tell you that. We’ve only been open two weeks, I can’t go around giving away my secrets.”

“Well, Ms. Marinelli–I would say you’ll be a regular San Francisco institution in no time at all.”

“Thank you, uh…”

“Doug, Doug Seaver.” He extended his hand which I took a little too readily. I liked the way it felt. It was cool and smooth. Sculpted was the word that came to mind.

“Thank you Doug. I hope you’ll come to Michaelangelo’s Gourmet Pizza Grotto again.

“Oh, I’m sure I will.” He said, very focused on me.

Focused. That would have to be the first word I would use to describe Doug. When he got started on something, forget about it. You didn’t stand a chance.

A few days after Doug’s blind date I received a letter in the mail. It was a copy of a glowing review Doug sent to the San Francisco Chronicle’s Food Editor on our restaurant. I couldn’t believe it. I showed it to Jodi.

“You mean this is from that sort of nerdy preppy guy you were talking to for so long?”

“Yes. Isn’t it incredible? I mean, it’s just so nice, you know?”

“It is nice. Maybe a little too nice. He wants something…you probably.”

I smiled. Jodi shook her head. “Nina, are you interested in this guy?”

“Don’t be ridiculous Jodi, I don’t even know him.”

“No, but there’s this glimmer in your eyes. I think you’re into him.”

“I’m not NOT into him. If you know what I mean.”

“Wow. I can’t believe it.”

“What? What’s wrong with me being, being..well, attracted to someone?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all. It’s just…” Jodi picked up the letter, looked at it for a moment and then waved it in the air. “He’s a grown up, Nina. Look at this letter. He doesn’t even know us, know you and he went out of his way to…”

“I know. It’s like, so incredible. I’ve never even heard of someone…”

“Well, it’s certainly not Jack’s style.” Jodi said.

We both laughed. “No it’s certainly not.” I agreed.

Jodi and I sent Doug a thank you card and a few days later at lunchtime, he strolled into the restaurant. Jodi was handling the hostess duties. I was in the kitchen up to my eyeballs in flour and cheese. Jodi entered the kitchen.

“Nina, there’s someone here to see you.”

“Who? Jodi, can you deal with it? As you can see, I’m looking a little like Casper right now.”

Jodi moved to the side and Doug walked in.

“Oh. Hi.” I said cursing myself for choosing today to try out new recipes. I was a mess. Tattered jeans, t-shirt, hair in a ponytail. Flour everywhere. I am not a neat cook. My philosophy is the bigger mess I make, the better it tastes.

“Hi Nina, I just thought I’d come by. For lunch. I, uh, I brought a few clients with me.”

“Oh, uh, that’s great Doug. Thank you so much for that letter. Its the nicest thing anyone’s ever done…”

“You’re welcome.”

“Yes Doug, if you keep it up we’ll have to hire you as our PR guy.” Jodi said.

“Oh, I don’t know about PR. I’m a financial analyst. I just believe in passing along good information. And you guys, this place is San Francisco’s best kept secret. so…”

“Well, I mean it Doug, it’s really great of you.” I said.

“No problem. Well, I better get out to my clients. What are you working on there Nina?”

“Oh, well, it’s nothing yet. A new idea. Philly Cheese Steak Pizza.”

“Sounds great. Well, I’ll see you later.”

“Ok, thanks Doug.”

Doug exited the kitchen and Jodi and I let out muffled shrieks.

“Oh my God Nina, he so has it for you.”

“You think so?”

“Yes. Definitely. And you know what?”

“I do. He’s a grown up.”

“Exactly.”

“Jodi, what are we even saying? I’ve had like two semi literate conversations with the guy–it’s not like he’s asked me out or anything.”

“Nina, I just have this feeling.”

Todd Saunders, our head waiter, came into the kitchen right then. “Uh, Nina? Sorry to interrupt but there’s a guy out there who says he wants the Philly Cheese Steak Pizza. I thought it wasn’t on the menu yet.”

I smiled.

“Todd, tell the man he can have it. Nina, you up for a trial run?” Jodi said.

“Yeah, sure, why the hell not?”

Doug sent his empty plate back with compliments to the chef and I sailed through the dinner shift with a smile on my face.

The next day, a gorgeous basket of irises arrived for me from Doug with a note that said: “Now I don’t want to come in and find an Iris-Peppercorn Pizza on the menu, though I’m sure you’d make it as delicious as everything else.”

I was floored. I felt swept away. Everything he did was handled so well, so adult, so cool. I called him to thank him for the flowers.

“Doug? Hi it’s Nina. I just want to thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”

“Thanks. I’m glad you like them. So I was wondering. Would you like to have dinner Saturday night?”

I laughed. “I can’t–Saturday is our busiest night and we’re not quite running so smoothly yet that I can take it off.”

“Ok. How about Sunday? Are you open Sunday?”

“Not until 4:00, but…”

“Well, do you want to have Brunch on Sunday then?”

“Oh Doug, that sounds nice, but, well I should tell you–I have this whole, this whole involvement. I’m involved.”

“Oh, so like a boyfriend? Fiancée?”

“A boyfriend, sort of. Well, not really. But, well, see its a long story and he’s…” I faltered. How do I explain my situation? Jack and I weren’t really together, but, well, I wanted to be and it was all just so circumstantial.

“Ok. How about brunch as friends then and you can tell me your long story.”

“That would be great.” I replied.

So I should just stop for a moment here and make a comparison. The best and worst thing about Jack was that he was always, relentlessly, frustratingly, there. You couldn’t take a breath, have a conversation with a girlfriend, take an extended trip to the restroom without him wanting to know all about it. Sometimes this was a good thing–he was certainly attentive. He could buy me tampons without having to ask which brand, he was up-to-date on the ins-and-outs of my girlfriends love lives, he knew when I was having a bad day and when to back off or attempt to cheer me up. It was also a bad thing–like when he was the thing I was having a bad day about–he was right there on my heels–how was I supposed to have a cathartic chat with a girlfriend about him if he was right there? Like when I needed two hours alone, like when I wanted to dye my hair–I mean this made me look like a cross between Eddie Munster and Medusa–I really didn’t want anyone seeing me like this–but not Jack. He would have none of it. He wanted to know all of me or so he always said. I told him when we met that I was someone who needed a great deal of personal space and he shouldn’t be offended by it. He said he was too, he said he loved to be alone. What I didn’t know then was that he meant alone together. And I realize this really doesn’t sound so bad–I mean who wouldn’t want an attentive boyfriend, right? But think about it–you know when you’re in those moods where they are just driving you absolutely nuts and you can’t take it for a second longer, if they so much as touch you you’re going to scream? Most guys would chalk it up to PMS and leave you alone. Not Jack–he wanted to know the root of my feelings and he wouldn’t accept hormones as an answer.

Not so with Doug. Right from the start there was this friendly distance between us. Like we were neighboring allied countries. If Jack was like being trapped together in a small, dark closet, Doug was being gloriously alone in an open meadow. Jack followed me around asking “Why?” “What?” “How Come?” I swear if not for his passion for fishing he’d be a great investigative reporter. Doug accepted things, all things, even things he probably should have probed deeper into. Jack always had to dive beneath the surface, get to the root of things. He believed this was where we were most ourselves. Doug believes very much in what we show on the surface, not to say that Doug isn’t deep–he’s just unprepared for all that lie just beneath the surface. He wants very much to believe that his life is exactly as he perceives it to be, that the people in his life are exactly as he perceives them to be.

Our first “date” if you can call it that-was wonderful. Doug picked me up at my apartment and we went to Golden Gate Park and had a picnic under a huge old redwood. We ate bad egg salad sandwiches that he made and fed our crusts to the birds–the birds that were brave enough to come anywhere near us with my dog Cinnamon along for the picnic. Doug even brought a bone for her–which she thanked him for by shaking her drool laden jowls and depositing a line of slime across the side of his face. He took it all in stride, though. He just laughed and wiped at it with his napkin. I thought–wow–how many people would be totally grossed out by that and he laughed it off. He passed my Cinnamon test–I mean, anyone confronted with 182 lbs of canine affection who doesn’t balk has to be a decent human being, in my opinion. And Cinnamon was a 182 pound dog that thought she was a lap sitter. She would just keep walking at you until you were lying beneath her with her tongue taking slobbery passes at your face. You have to be experienced with her to avoid being trapped like this. Doug got trapped like this three separate times on our first date. And he refused to let me call her off. He was laying there reasoning with her. I couldn’t stop laughing. I mean it was just so endearing. As capable as Doug is, he made me want to protect him–probably because he was so convinced he didn’t need protecting.

He was so easy to talk to. I told him all about Jack and I. About how it had always been my dream to own and run a gourmet pizza place like Michaelangelo’s and how when Jodi found the space and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity, Jack’s support flagged. About how Jack and I had, since day one, nursed each other’s dreams but how in the end it seemed like his dreams were more important than mine. About how I always thought Jack and I would be together until we died and how hard it had been to accept the idea that we now would not. About how I still didn’t know quite how to function without him, I mean we had been together for six years–from ages 23-29–and Jack being the proponent of closeness that he was–we did everything together.

Doug nodded and made comments where appropriate and when I was done, you know what he said? “It sounds like you grew up and Jack didn’t. It wasn’t your fault. It happens to people who love one another all the time–but that doesn’t mean you should put your dreams on hold to hold onto someone who wants to be perpetually 23.” I mean, wow. Its like he had been reading my thoughts. I mean that is exactly how I perceived the demise of Jack and I. I needed to be a grownup and Jack needed to catch fish and play in his softball league and take woodworking classes at the local junior college.

And then Doug told me about him. He was 33, never been married, had a few serious relationships but just hadn’t met anyone as focused as he was. He told me about his job as a financial analyst–about how much he liked playing with other people’s money–about how it gave him the insider’s knowledge of how to invest his own money in order to achieve maximum return. About how the quality of his life was important to him–I mean why have any old Chardonnay when you could have the best Chardonnay? Why buy a suit at C&R when you could have Brooks Brothers? Not to sound like an elitist, he said, it’s just that I didn’t grow up with money and we were always struggling and I know I take a rather perverse pleasure in being able to afford these things but so what? I was like, wow. He really knows himself, knows what makes him tick, knows his strengths and weaknesses. He was so assured.

After that, Doug started coming by the restaurant a couple of times a week for lunch. Sometimes with clients, sometimes without. He’d come by late, just before closing and eat with me. We talked about everything and he listened to me and tried to help me with my plans, dreams and problems. He acted like he was interested in what I did. I think it thrilled him to meet someone who was more absorbed by their work than he was. And then, about two months after we opened, a month and a half after I met Doug, who should walk into my restaurant on a Friday night right in the middle of our dinner rush? Jack.

I was in the kitchen, as usual, overseeing the cooks and jumping in when they got swamped. One of the waiters came in to tell me I had a visitor and thinking it was Doug I told him to send him back to the kitchen. Well, I just about passed out when Jack walked through that door. He was wearing Levi’s and a green J Crew henley shirt. Jack is Italian and has all the dark, smoldering sexiness that is characteristic of Italian men. Add to his dark good looks a completely Californian confidence and the combination is deadly–to me at least. His eyes are an inky sable and his hair is the exact same color. He always had 5 o’clock shadow at noon. I had gotten used to Doug’s tailoredness. His dapperness. His fastidious attention to personal detail. Although at this point Doug and I had shared nothing more than a few all night conversations and Scrabble games. My mouth must have been hanging open and pure lust must have been in my eyes because Jack broke into a huge smile.

“And I thought you wouldn’t be happy to see me,” he said.

I flew into his arms and he sort of picked me up off the ground just enough to spin me around. He still smelled like Jack. It was all so familiar and yet unfamiliar.

“Oh my God Jack, what are you doing here?”

“You think that I could listen to you talk about the concept of Michaelangelo’s Gourmet Pizza Grotto for six years and then not come up and see the actual place? Besides,” he added rather flippantly, “I miss you.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Really. I’m sorry Nina. I know how it seems, you know–like I didn’t believe in your dreams. I did. I do. I just didn’t, I just don’t know what to do about it.”

Jack and I settled into a cozy table at the back of the restaurant and spent the rest of the night absorbed in one another, catching up. It was just so good to be around him again. Almost like I was revisiting myself.

“God, Jack, do you have any idea how good it is to see you?”

Jack smiled and squeezed my hands. “Oh, I think I do. I really do. I’ve missed you so much.”

I couldn’t believe how happy I was to hear him say that. Its like, I knew I missed him, but I had been so busy getting the restaurant off the ground that I hadn’t really had time to realize how much I missed him. But with Jack right there, close enough to touch, close enough to smell, the ache was so palpable I couldn’t believe I’d lived with it for so long.

Around 11, Doug came in. I don’t know how long he’d been standing there watching us, all we were doing was talking and holding hands across the table, although I’m sure we had loopy grins on our faces. I looked up and saw him and this total look of disbelief on his face. I jumped up.

“Oh, hold on Jack, there’s somebody I’d like to introduce you to.”

I went to the front of the restaurant to where Doug was standing.

“You are never going to believe who showed up tonight unannounced.”

Doug’s mouth was very tight and his tone clipped. “Jack, right?”

“Yes! Isn’t it amazing?”

I took Doug over to meet Jack and the way they sized each other up–it was like two panthers circling one another. Call me naive, but one was my ex-boyfriend and the other just a good friend, I didn’t know quite what was going on. I introduced Doug as one of my very best customers and someone who’d become quite a good friend and Jack as Jack–I mean, Doug was well aware of the situation. Doug almost immediately made up some lame brained take out order story and took his leave–I followed him to the hostess’ desk.

“Doug, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing Nina. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Doug, we’re talking. I’m not going to get hurt.”

He sighed. “Just be careful, okay?”

“I will. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’ll try not to. Want to have lunch tomorrow so you can fill me in on why he came up here?”

“I’d love to but…well, call me tomorrow morning and we’ll make plans, ok?”

“Ok. Goodnight Nina, be careful.”

“Oh Doug, stop it. Goodnight.”

When I got back to the table Jack was at he had a mean gleam in his eye.

“What?”

“Are you dating that guy?”

“Doug?” I think I even laughed at the suggestion. “No, Jack, he’s just a friend.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Jack, listen…”

“No, Nina. I believe that you think he’s just a friend, but I think, no I know he thinks he’s more than just a friend. Or he’d very much like to be more than a friend.”

“Whatever. He’s a really nice guy and a good listener and I have obviously had a lot to sort through the last couple of months and he’s, well, he’s been there for me. But the most erotic thing that has happened between us is me using the word penis for a triple word score in a Scrabble game. Ok?”

“Ok. Fine. Just be careful.”

I sighed. “I will. So, how long are you staying?”

“My flight leaves Sunday night.”

“Oh–great–you’ll really get to see this place in action–that is, if you feel like hanging around here.”

Jack smiled. “Do I get an apron?”

I laughed. “Sure if you want one. You know my Pesto recipe about as well as I do.”

Jack laughed. “Yeah, I was your guinea pig for most of these dishes.”

“So, where are you staying?”

Jack smiled again. “Can you recommend a good hotel?”

I grinned. “I sure can.”

He grinned back. “How’s the room service?”

“Superb. I hear they have an excellent late night pizza menu.”

“MMmmm, I love pizza. How’s the maid service?”

“A little sloppy–not bad though.”

“The pillows?”

“Oh, the pillows are amazing, soft and plushy, like sleeping on a cloud.”

“Well, I’m sold. Shall we go?”

“Yes. Definitely. Let me just go talk to Jodi and Todd and make sure everything’s under control.”

“Hurry.”

“I will.” I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. I went to find Jodi and I swear my heart was racing.

Jodi found me. She grabbed me by the arm and dragged me into her office. She handled the business end of the restaurant.

“Nina, tell me tell me–what is he doing here?”

“He says he misses me and he had to see this place for himself since he had to listen to me talk about it for six years.”

“So…?”

“He thinks it looks exactly like I always described.”

“Cool. I can’t hear that enough. I still can’t believe we’ve done this.”

“I know, me either.”

“So, what’s the story?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Don’t sleep with him.”

I hadn’t seen Jack in six months. In the early stages of the planning of the restaurant I commuted to and from San Diego. I didn’t move full time to San Francisco until six months ago, four months before the restaurant opened. I didn’t exactly leave San Diego on the best of terms with Jack and I hadn’t even spoken to him in months. But I was not going to rule out sleeping with him–it was something I had wanted to do since I set eyes on him earlier that night. I told Jodi this.

“Well then by all means, be careful.” Jodi said.

Jack and I went back to my apartment. Once inside it didn’t take us long. I turned around to bolt the door and Jack pushed me up against it. I turned around and our mouths met. Jack had the best lips around. We fumbled our way toward the bedroom, losing bits of clothing as we went. By the time we reached the bed we were both naked and we eagerly collapsed onto the mattress. Everything about Jack was familiar and unfamiliar. I knew each plane of his body so well, and yet, I hadn’t touched him for six months. It was like the first time all over again–but better–this time we knew which buttons to push.

“Wow,” was all I could say when it was all over.

“You said it.”

“Jack, why are you here?” Me and my big mouth.

Jack rolled onto one side and looked at me. “I had to see you,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because I’ve been driving myself crazy trying to forget about you and not succeeding very well at that.”

“So…”

“I don’t know Nina. I just know I feel whole when I’m with you.”

“I know, me too.”

“I can’t get used to this.”

“Me either.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

We made love again and fell asleep in each other’s arms. We were inseparable the rest of the weekend. It was one of those times when I didn’t mind the togetherness. Doug called a few times but I was too busy with Jack to call him back. Sunday night I drove Jack to the airport. We couldn’t take our hands or lips off of one another.

“So I’ll see you next weekend?” Jack asked.

“Yes. I can’t really get away Friday night but I’ll fly down first thing Saturday morning.”

“Great. I can’t wait.”

“Me either. I can’t wait.”

“Me either. I love you, Nina.”

“I love you too. More than you’ll ever know. See you Saturday.”

For the next four weeks Jack and I flew back and forth. It was easiest for both of us to get away in the middle of the week, so he’d come to San Francisco Monday through Wednesday and I’d go to San Diego Wednesday and come back in time for the Friday night rush. Doug was conspicuously absent on the days Jack was in town, but I was too happy to wonder why. Eventually, the restaurant got too crazy for me to be able to break away too often. This made Jack resentful. We saw less of one another and fought more when we were together. It was tearing me apart. I called Doug.

“Doug, I really need to talk to you. Can you come by the restaurant tonight?”

“I guess so, is anything wrong?”

“No, yes, shit I don’t know.”

“How about 9:30?”

“Perfect.”

When Doug got there I told him about Jack and I and all that had been going on. About how he supported my dreams, about us flying back and forth, about how tired I was and how I couldn’t get away as often because of the success of the restaurant and how resentful Jack was getting because of that. I told him I didn’t know what to do. He asked me what I felt in my heart. I told him I loved Jack but I just didn’t see how it could work, I mean, I wanted more, you know? He said I deserved more. I deserved someone who was there full time and who supported my goals. Someone I could talk to about my fears and feelings. Someone who was willing to compromise in order to find a way to be together. Jack’s idea of compromise is for you to run yourself ragged in order to spend as much time as possible with him, he said. I would never ask that of you, he said. What are you saying, I asked him. I’m just saying you deserve an adult relationship built on friendship and mutual respect. Seems you and Jack are always either fighting or making up, he said. That isn’t constructive, he said. You want more, but how can you ever move forward with this modus operandi, he said.

Over the next week I thought alot about what Doug had said and I decided he was right. Consequently, I started to look at him in a whole new light. I started to notice that his lips curled up ever so slightly on the ends when he talked about things that excited him. I started to notice how blue his eyes looked when he was in a good mood and how gray they looked when he wasn’t. I started to notice how good he smelled.

One night, as I was closing up the restaurant and Doug was keeping his usual weekend vigil with me I turned off all the lights and was making my way to the front door when I bumped into Doug.

“Oh! Sorry.”

“No problem.”

“What kind of cologne do you wear?”

“Eternity, why?”

“Oh, uh, well, It’s just, you smell great.”

I thought I could hear him smile in the dark. “Thank you,” he said.

I took a step forward and bumped into him again. He took hold of my arms and kissed me. Wow. It was a kiss I could feel right down to my toes. I laughed.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Nothing, nothing. I was just thinking that if I had known you were that good of a kisser I would’ve bumped into you in the dark months ago.”

He kissed me again. And again. I felt like I was lost at sea. Somewhere, a strangled little voice inside of me spoke: “Doug, stop. Please stop.”

“Nina, I have wanted to kiss you since the moment I saw you.”

“Doug, don’t, please.”

“I have to, don’t you understand? I care about you so much and I hate to see you throwing your love away on Jack.”

“Doug, I’m not throwing it away. Even if it goes nowhere, love is never thrown away. I’ve been with Jack for over six years. I can’t just walk away.”

“Nina, you’re not. You’ve been trying to make it work for months, you weren’t even speaking to him for how many months before that. You’ve given it your best shot. What’s he done?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s right. All I’m asking you to do is think about what you want. I love you Nina. We’re good together. I can give you the relationship you’re looking for. All I’m saying is consider this–don’t you think it’s possible that while you still may love Jack–you have outgrown him and trying to be with him still is like trying to wear a shoe that’s two sizes too small?”

“I don’t know.”

“Think about it. When you know what you want, call me.”

He kissed me on the forehead and with that he was gone.

I did think about it. For a couple of weeks. And you know what? During that time I missed Doug. I missed our conversations, I missed his company, I missed those kisses. Jodi and I were going over restaurant business one afternoon.

“No kidding. Doug?”

“Yeah, I think so. I mean, I’ve been feeling so weird these last couple of weeks and I really miss him.”

“But you’ve been hanging out with him for so long and you never said anything about your chemistry.”

“That’s because I’ve been so wrapped up in trying to figure out a way to be with Jack. There’s been something about Doug right from the start though–a quiet kind of intensity that just took me over.”

“I think it’s great.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I mean, you know I like Jack–but really Nina, where’s THAT going? He’s not going to leave San Diego. He doesn’t take you seriously. He’s never been truly committed to you…or for that matter you to him.”

“Now that’s not really fair–we love each other.”

“I know you do,” Jodi said patiently. “And I am not trying to hurt your feelings, Nina. Its just, well, you and Jack were each other’s first love and its quite possible neither one of you will ever completely get over each other, but that also doesn’t mean you should be together, it doesn’t mean there isn’t someone else out there who is better suited to the adult you’ve become.”

“I know, I know. I just can’t believe it, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. So what are you going to tell him?”

“Which him?”

“Both.”

“I’m not sure yet,” I said.

A couple of days later I called Doug. “Hi, it’s Nina.”

“Hi! I was beginning to think I’d never hear from you.”

I laughed nervously. “Yeah, well, you gave me alot to think about.”

He laughed nervously. “And?”

“I’ve been thinking, and see, well, the thing is–I’ve missed you.”

Doug sighed as if he had been holding his breath since that night we kissed in the dark.

“I’ve missed you too Nina.”

“It’s weird, it’s like I didn’t even know how much I’d come to depend on you, to trust you, to lean on you…”

“Well, you know, you’re busy with a million other things…sometimes these things just sort of sneak up on us.”

“Yeah,” I said and laughed.

“Will you have dinner with me tonight—late, after the dinner rush at the restaurant?”

“Yes, I’d like that.”

Doug took me out for Thai food late that night and our old friendship returned except with a new warm and fuzzy glow to it. We held hands across the table and did all those things that couples do. It was already like being in a real relationship. Jack and I had been together for too long–it was like we knew each other too well and those courtesies you extend to one another had fallen by the wayside. Doug held doors open for me, pulled my chair out for me at dinner, helped me on and off with my coat–and gloriously, throughout the entire meal, we didn’t have one single disagreement–it was all so civilized.

After that things with Doug and I really progressed rapidly. It was like he knew if he didn’t make his move, I’d change my mind. I was so wrapped up in it, so wrapped up in him I didn’t question his leads. Three weeks into our new “relationship” he was talking about plans for six months down the road. I didn’t question him. Somehow, things just felt right. Jodi and my Grandmother were thrilled. Doug was a perfect gentleman, Doug was an adult, Doug treated me the way they always wanted to see me get treated. Doug was such a whirlwind I didn’t even have time to think about Jack.

And then, one day I woke up and I knew I had to tell Jack it was just over. We were talking less and less lately and we both knew it was coming. I flew to San Diego on a Thursday morning and Jack picked me up and took me to the house in the Crown Point section of Pacific Beach he had just bought. It was beautiful, right on the bay, with sailboats sailing past the front windows every few minutes.

“Jack, its beautiful.”

“I knew you’d like it. Its the perfect house for us.” He stepped towards me and put his arms around me as we both stood looking out at the bay. “The perfect house for us to start a family in. We can even take the side walkway and turn it into a dog run for Cinnamon.”

“Jack, I…”

“I can just see you sitting in this front window, in the rocking chair I will make for you with our baby, watching the boats sail by.”

“Jack, I have to talk to you.”

I broke away from him and started to pace the living room. It really was a beautiful house. I would have loved to live there with Jack and Cinnamon and our babies, but how? My mind had been made up. Possibly my mind had been made up for me, but I didn’t see that then.

“What’s wrong Nina?”

I sighed. “Nothing, it’s just, well…everything’s wrong.”

I sat down on the couch. “Jack, I’m never going to live in this house with you. I’m never going to live in San Diego–my life is in San Francisco–my restaurant, my family, my friends.”

“You could open a branch of Michaelangelo’s here.”

“It’s not that easy Jack and you know it. First of all it will be years before we’re established enough to generate the kind of profit for a second restaurant, not to mention the small but inescapable fact that San Diego is largely a culinary wasteland, and I don’t want to live here.”

But Nina, what about us—its been six years–you can’t just walk away.”

I had started to cry. “Jack, I’m not just walking away, don’t you see? It’s been over a year since we knew I would be moving to San Francisco to open Michaelangelo’s and we’ve been trying to make it work ever since, you know? It worked for awhile, the flying back and forth, but we can’t keep that up–we’re both too busy. I’m almost 31 years old Jack–I want more, I need more, I need a full time adult relationship.”

“We are a…”

“No, Jack we’re not. When we’re together we’re 25 again. We are not adults. We’ve grown up, but not when we’re together. I love you, Jack, I really do. But I just can’t do this anymore. It’s tearing me apart.”

“Nina, don’t do this.” Jack face was ashen. “Nina, I love you, I want to marry you.”

“Really? That’s news to me, Jack. Do you realize that in all the time we’ve been together today is the first time you’ve mentioned marriage? Don’t you think that’s a little odd?”

“I always assumed we’d be together forever.”

“So did I Jack, so did I. But we have to face it–we’re going in opposite directions right now.”

“Can’t we just try it again?” Jack asked.

“What for, Jack? I know you better than I know myself. What can we possibly accomplish by hanging on?”

“Nina, I love you.”

“I know. But I have to do this.”

Jack was quiet for a few minutes and then that mean gleam returned to his eye.

“Is it that guy?”

“What guy? Doug? No, Jack this has nothing to do with Doug. This is about you and I.”

“I knew he wanted you. And its happened, hasn’t it?”

“Nothing has happened Jack. This is not about Doug. This is about us.”

“I knew he was a weasel from the moment I laid eyes on him.”

Now Jack was just making me mad. “Jack, shut up. Just shut the hell up.”

“You were feeling vulnerable about us, I understand that, and I’ve known that and I’m sorry I didn’t do anything…I didn’t know what to do and then that, that weasel comes along and takes advantage of MY girlfriend.”

“Jack, stop it, I mean it! This is about you and I–not Doug. Are you listening at all to me? This is about you and I being basically incompatible.”

“Nina, we’ve been together for six years, we’re not incompatible.”

“Jack, we’ve changed, or at least I have. What I want not is not what you can give me.”

“And I suppose Doug can give you what you want?”

“Jack, stop it, this is not about Doug, this is about you and…” It was becoming a mantra.

“Just answer me.” Jack’s tone was clipped.

“You have not listened to a word I’ve said for years, Jack. You knew when we moved here that I planned to return to Northern California yet you chose to ignore it. I cannot put aside my dreams and goals to be with you–I cannot give up who I am to be with you. I love you Jack, but if I have to ignore myself to make us work than its just simply not meant to be and Lord knows you’ve never done one bit of compromising to save this relationship.”

“Fine, just tell me one thing Nina…is he as good in bed as I am?”

I slapped Jack hard across the face. “You bastard.”

“I knew it. You are sleeping with him.”

“Whatever–you’ll believe what you want, anyway. I had hoped this could be civilized. I had hoped you’d understand that I don’t want to have a commuter relationship–a relationship that doesn’t support who I am, the adult I’ve become–but I guess I over estimated you.”

“Nina, get out.”

“What?”

“Leave, I need you to leave.”

“All I wanted Jack, all I ever wanted was to live happily ever after with you.”

“You could have had that.”

“Yes, I could have, but at the expense of my individuality and then you wouldn’t be with me, you’d be with a homogenized version of me.”

“Please leave my house now.”

“Fine.” I picked up my bag and walked to the door. “I’m sorry Jack.”

“So am I. Give Doug my best. Oh I forgot, you already are.”

“Yes, that’s right Jack, I am. And he’s more of a man than you could ever dream of being.”

And with that I walked out. I know that last stab was unnecessary, but I couldn’t help it.

It took me several weeks to calm down. I couldn’t believe Jack and I had finally, irrevocably broken up. I mean, part of me always knew it was inevitable, but the reality of it was still shocking. Through it all Doug was there, bringing me my favorite Starbucks 1/2 caffinated 1/2 decaffinated cappuccino (otherwise known as a 1/2 caf decaf cap) and Deluxe Graham cookies. Even during my first six months in San Francisco when Jack and I were technically broken up and not speaking, it wasn’t real, it was like he was on vacation or something. But this, this was so real. And I felt like 1/2 my heart had been ripped out. But Doug was eager to replace it.

As I started feeling more like myself–after I made lists of all the reasons Jack and I were never meant to be and memorized them–Doug and I took the first few tentative steps at establishing our relationship.

He moved so fast. Kind of like he was running a marathon and eager to finish first. Four months after we began dating, four months after Jack and I broke up, Doug asked me to move in with him. His reasons were valid. I spent more time at his condo than my tiny apartment, his place was closer to the restaurant, we’d save money for a down payment on a house. I didn’t see any reason not to move in with him. I’m telling you, Doug is the master of appearances–everything seemed perfect and fine with us so these momentary bouts of uncertainty I had I largely ignored because I could find no reason for having them. I chalked them up to a basic fear of commitment–I mean Jack and I were together for how long and we didn’t commit? It seemed logical.

Two months after we moved in together Doug proposed. It was amazing, or well it would have been if it weren’t for my allergy to seafood. He charted this great old Clipper ship with a crew of eight just for us and we sailed around the Bay all night. At sundown, he proposed to me on the deck of the ship as we were watching the sun set over the ocean. It was perfect. I cried, and of course I said yes. As far as I could tell Doug was the perfect man. And I did love him. I figured the lack of zing in our relationship was a sign that I was grown up–that the passion Jack and I had was a thing of youth. This is how adults are, I told myself. Doug placed the perfect diamond solitaire on my ring finger and we repaired to the cabin for dinner. The crew brought two silver covered dishes to us and left us alone. Doug and I had some wine. I began to feel queasy. We lifted the lids off of our dinner plates and sure enough, salmon. I turned green. Doug asked what was wrong and I told him I was allergic to seafood. No problem he said. We’ll get you something else. You don’t understand, I said, even the smell of seafood makes me vomit. I was probably chartreuse by this time. Don’t be silly, Doug said, that’s psychosomatic–mind over matter, you can overcome it. Doug, I can’t, I said as I ran up to the deck and leaned over the side of the ship to vomit.

That was pretty much the end of our romantic little cruise. I was sick for the rest of the night. The motion of the boat didn’t really help matters any. So you can see why I found it so completely unbelievable that Doug would just stand by and let his mother change the menu at our wedding to salmon.

Our engagement flew by. We were planning a June wedding. I hardly had time to think with the restaurant and the wedding plans. And then, about a month ago I started having these dreams about Jack. They were always centered around my wedding to Doug. And they left me feeling like I was about to make the biggest mistake of my life. Like I was about to embark on a very pleasant little life instead of one filled with passion and highs and lows of genuine, soul-filled emotion.

Chapter Two: Here Comes the Reluctant Bride

After Doug left and I assured myself that the beating I‘d given my head had left no lasting damage, I got ready for work. Despite my current personal crisis, I still had a restaurant to run. Thank God for that.

My best friend, Jodi Sansone, and I own Michelangelo’s Gourmet Pizza Grotto in North Beach. But it’s more than just ownership-we birthed the place, literally willed it into being. It all started back in college at Berkeley. Well, a lot started at Berkeley, but I’ll get to that later. Jodi and I met freshman year during sorority rush. I was so cynical about the rush process, feeling that sorority girls were superficial and only interested in what was on the outside of a person. Jodi was the only rushee who was more cynical about the process than I was. We quickly bonded during the long and drawn out rush process, each teasing the other about who would drop out first. Imagine our surprise, when not only did we not drop out, but we each received an invitation to membership from the same sorority, Delta Gamma. Our days as Dee Gees proved every preconceived notion the two of us had about sorority women wrong. In each other and in Delta Gamma we found love, support, friendship, laughter, encouragement and a friend that was there for us at all hours. It is the best surprise either of us have encountered and an instance where we were happily proven wrong. I owe Delta Gamma many things, not the least of which is my loyalty and love, but most of all, my gratitude for helping make me the woman I am today and for bringing me my best friend for life. Jodi is my anchor. I don’t know what I’d do without her.

Anyway, sophomore year we went on a double date to this Italian place in Berkeley and the only memorable thing about it was the wine…well, that’s not entirely true. Jodi was dating this Sigma Chi, Rick. They’d been seeing each other for a few months and they set me up with Rick’s fraternity brother Jim. Well, six years later Rick and I were Best Man and Maid of Honor at Jodi and Jim’s wedding. So besides the fact that my best friend married my date, the only memorable thing was the wine. And we couldn’t see a reason for the poor food, poor service, poor lighting…you name it we had a definite opinion on how to improve it. So it all started with a game of “If this were my restaurant, I’d…” Well the four of us had a lot of ideas about the kind of place we’d not only eat in, but also like to own – and for Jodi and I that night, a dream was born.

I went out and immediately got a part-time job at Toulouse-Lautrec’s, this moody little Parisian bistro with critically acclaimed food and the City’s best coffee in Berkeley. The owner, Maurice, taught me everything I know about running a mid-sized restaurant. After graduation from Cal, I enrolled in the Cordon Bleu’s culinary program in Paris. My year in Paris was incredible and topped off by my return to Northern California and call from Maurice offering me an apprenticeship in his famous kitchen.

He and I became friends, really great friends. More like family, really. He’s responsible for so much of who I am today, for helping me keep sight of my goals and dreams. He helped me dream, but helped me keep my dreams rooted in reality, too. He’s a cool old guy, basically. Someone I can turn to in times of serious need. And he makes a mean cup of coffee too. None of the fluffy cappuccino, expresso, café au lait stuff. Just a good, strong, old-fashioned cup of joe.

Anyway, Jodi and I have been friends for fourteen years. Sometimes I don’t feel old enough to have had a friend for that long. But I’ll be thirty-two in a couple of months and with the restaurant, not to mention the other trappings of my life, I’d say that definitely makes me a grown-up. At least some of the time.

Jodi and I opened Michelangelo’s, affectionately known as The Grotto, a little more than two years ago and I don’t think either one of us has gotten a decent night’s sleep since. Oh don’t get me wrong, we’ve been very lucky and the patrons of San Francisco have been very very good to us; it’s just there are a million little and not so little details to take care of. I’d never have thought, way back during sophomore year when Jodi and I made a pact to open our restaurant by our thirtieth birthdays, that there were so many things to think about, to worry about. I mean, who’d have ever guessed that there is fierce ice competition.

I mean it. You know those newspaper salesmen that call you at 8am on Saturday to try and get you to subscribe to the paper for the low low low price of…well, you know the pitch. That’s what these ice people are like. I never really thought you’d buy ice. I mean, yeah you’d buy ice, but in like those jumbo party bags or something. Oh no. An average restaurant must allocate 1.5 pounds of ice for a meal, 3 pounds for cocktail services and 4 pounds of ice for water services per person for each and every customer, they told me. That’s eight and a half pounds of ice per person they said. How will you buy that much ice, they asked me. Let us show you our ice machines. Yes, they have machines. A whole line of them. You can buy the Hyundai of ice machines or you can buy the Jaguar. And there are twenty-three different companies in San Francisco alone selling ice.

I made a mental note to call our sales rep at Nanook of the North Ice and talk about upgrading. As our customer base had increased, our trusty little VW of an ice machine just couldn’t produce enough ice fast enough. And ice was just one of the one thousand details which were responsible for keeping me sane throughout all the wedding psychosis I was going through. Details and Jodi. Without them, I’d be certifiable right now. Only I’d been dumping so much of my emotional baggage on Jodes lately that I felt bad, and resolved to try and make our morning walk to the office Nina Drama free. Of course Jodi, who knows me better than anyone, and whose morning ritual it was to meet me in front of my building at 9:15 with a half caf decap cap, was suspicious about my bright and cheery demeanor after less than a block.

“OK Nina, spill it. What’s going on?” She asked while eyeing me suspiciously.

“Are all men born selfish or do they have to learn how to be that way? Because if I’m enabling him in the slightest way I’d like to know so I can stop.” I paused for a breath. “Doug is making me insane.”

Jodi smiled a knowing little smile.

“Don’t even start with me. He changed the menu. He changed the menu to salmon.

Jodi stopped dead in her tracks. “No way. It’s a joke, it’s gotta be. Doesn’t he know?

“Oh, He Knows. He’s experienced it first hand. The night he proposed to me. The first time he took me to his mother’s house for dinner. I spent the entire night crouched over the toilet.”

“Helluva first impression,” Jodi said.

“Yeah and it hasn’t gotten much better since then. That woman makes me crazy.”

We started walking again.

Jodi laughed. “What do you want from her? She’s very proper and you’re very…passionate.”

“What’s wrong with being passionate?” I asked. “And besides what’s with this whole control thing Doug has? He thinks my seafood allergy is all in my head and if confronted with it enough I will get over it. Will someone please take him to my doctor for an explanation? Why is he is trying to make me spend my wedding day puking into a toilet at the St. Francis?”

“Nina, calm down. It’s just last minute tension on all sides. When Jim and I…”

“Jodi, no offense, but I’ve heard it before. I think it’s more than that. I mean I am a chef. I own a restaurant. A successful one. And she insists we hire a caterer no one’s ever heard of?”

“Nina, she just didn’t want you fussing over the food or your own employees on your wedding day.”

“Maybe. But I doubt it. She has an agenda. AND I had another one of those dreams.”

Jodi groaned and shook her head. “What was it this time? Circus wedding? No, no let me guess, you were naked at the altar and Jack rode in on a white horse and whisked you away like Lady Godiva.”

I looked at Jodi appreciatively.

“Not bad Jodes, but I was all dressed in vinyl and some sort of bustier thing with a zipper here…” I gestured as to where the zipper was, pushing my chest up to emphasize the effect. “…And he came in on a motorcycle — but this time we got married before he whisked me away on his Harley.”

Jodi shook her head. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Jodi, I’m worried. I’ve had one of these dreams every time I’ve fallen asleep for the past six weeks. Do you think it’s a sign?”

“It’s not a sign. Its cold feet. I was terrified for weeks before I married Jim, remember?”

I looked at Jodi skeptically. “I don’t know…I think it’s more than that.”

Jodi stopped walking. “Nina! Do I have to remind you for the one millionth time why you broke up with Jack?”

“Maybe. I can’t seem to recall what was so bad about him…I just know we had a certain amount of passion that Doug and I are definitely missing.”

“Nina, you’re obsessed with Jack–that’s what’s missing from your relationship with Doug. Stop looking back so much and look at what you’ve got and I guarantee you you’ll feel much better.”

But that’s just it. I knew Jodi was wrong. It’s like one day I realized that there was nothing essentially wrong with Doug. He was resume perfect–there was no reason, on paper at least, that I should leave him. He had a good upbringing, he was a nice guy, all the extra curricular activities were in line–but then I wondered when it was I stopped evaluating my relationship by the feelings in my heart and started acting more like a college admissions board. And then I realized–it was when I left Jack.

“I don’t know Jodi, I’d have to disagree with you.”

“Nina, Jack couldn’t commit to you even when he knew it meant losing you. This is not someone you want to marry…”

“Jodi, we were young. And the one thing I never doubted was Jack’s love for me.”

“Doug loves you.”

“I know. It’s actually not Doug’s love I doubt.”

We had reached the restaurant and stood outside of it.

“Jack didn’t respect you.”

“Yes he did.”

“He forgot Valentine’s Day.”

“Once. He had a lot on his mind.”

“Do I have to remind you?” Jodi sighed. “What did you have for dinner that night?”

“Stale crackers and Cheese Whiz from the Circle K. By candlelight, it was romantic.”

“I give up Nina. You’re still making excuses for him. Did you ever stop to consider that maybe the reason you haven’t gotten over Jack is because you won’t let yourself?”

“It’s not about what we had for dinner on Valentine’s Day Jodi. It’s not even about the fact that after almost six years we couldn’t get our acts in sync. It’s about the way Jack made me feel. It’s about the way I miss feeling that way.”

Jodi and I entered the restaurant and paused at the hostess’ desk.

“You do know deep down that you’re being ridiculous and that this will pass, don’t you?” Jodi asked.

“Yeah, sure. I guess.” Though I wasn’t at all convinced.

I went up to my office–which was as disarrayed as the counter in my bathroom–a whirlwind of papers and magazines for kitchen equipment and about the restaurant business. Boxes of sample cooking gear lay open all over the floor. My walls are lined with framed ads for the restaurant and articles about the restaurant. It only looks messy- I know where everything is. Nevertheless, Doug would be horrified, and that’s why he’s not allowed up here. I sat down at my desk and started to look at some sample ads our advertising agency had submitted to us.

Todd Saunders, our restaurant manager and one of our original employees, entered my office.

“Hey Nina. Have you gotten a chance to take a look at my plans for the Estep party?” Todd asked.

All of a sudden it hit me–Todd looks a lot like Jack.

“Uh, Nina, hello? Are you home?”

“What? Oh, no. Sorry–bad ad overload. Can you believe they actually want us to use the slogan ‘Where every pizza is a work of art?’ “

I shook my head and held the ad up for Todd to see. It was a picture of Michelangelo sketching a pizza. Todd started to laugh.

“Unbelievable, isn’t it? Can you get me a list of smaller local ad agencies–you can delegate it out if you want, just supervise it, ok?”

“Yeah sure. So, the Estep party?”

“The what?”

“Uh, Nina, has anyone told you that you’re getting weirder and weirder the closer this wedding gets?”

I groaned. “Boy have they.”

Todd cleared a pile of mail off of a chair and sat down.

“Is everything okay? Doug’s not having second thoughts, is he?”

“No, not Doug. He’s as stalwart as ever. I swear he’d drag me kicking and screaming to the altar if that’s what it took.”

“You Nina? You’re kidding. You and Doug seem like such a good match.”

“Well, yes and no. I’m not sure if its second thoughts or extreme fear.”

“That’s normal cold feet, nothing to worry about there.” Todd said.

“I don’t think so, it’s more than that. I keep having reoccurring dreams about my ex-boyfriend rescuing me from marrying Doug.”

“Jack?”

I nodded sheepishly. “Todd I’m in a serious panic. What should I do?”

“Have you tried to contact Jack?” Todd asked.

“No!”

“Why not?”

“I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“Do you think this is going to go away?” Todd asked.

“No but…”

Todd got up and walked to the door.

“Well, if you can face up to the fact that there are some relationships you never get over, fine. If not, maybe you should call him.”

Todd left. Maybe I should call Jack. No, I can’t. What would I say? Uh, hello Jack–I’m getting married next Saturday and I can’t shake the feeling that I’m making a big mistake–that it’s you I should be marrying? Yeah, right. Oh, how about, Hello Jack? It’s Nina. I still love you. Yeah I know we haven’t spoken in a year, but well, I thought you should know. Right. I’d be setting myself up to be the fool.

But God, I did miss him. And I knew I still loved him. I even missed our fights. I missed the way we could have passionate fights about what kind of spaghetti sauce to buy. I was always a Classico fan, he never strayed from Ragu. At least until I started making my own sauce. I smiled. Jack was actually the one that figured out what was missing, what was keeping my secret sauce from being spectacular. He added a dash of almond extract. Almond of all things.

I remembered exactly how it happened. How he danced around the kitchen proposing outrageous options trying to lure me out of my funk. How about papaya, he said. Pomegranate? Paprika? I’ve got it! Accent, he said holding up the bottle of spice. Apple cider, he said as he slid over to the refrigerator. Or an extract, he said, those potent little arbiters of taste, he said-finally getting a smile out of me. An extract? I said skeptically. Yeah, like almond he said. Almond, I said. And deftly, almost as a joke, he poured a liberal amount into the pot. And so it began.

I was surrounded by him. And I didn’t know how not to be.

Oh what the hell. I picked up the phone and dialed a few numbers. I replaced the receiver. I can’t. I just can’t.

Jodi walked by my office and paused in the doorway.

“Don’t forget, we’ve got to be at the bridal boutique for your final fitting in an hour.” She paused and looked at me. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

I just looked at her. I didn’t even open my mouth.

Jodi groaned. “You’re hopeless.”

I nodded.

“You’re getting married next weekend.”

I groaned and put my head down on my desk.

“What?” Jodi asked.

“I think I’m having a heart attack” I said.

Jodi sighed. “You’ll get over it,” she said as she walked away.

“I hope so.” I yelled after her.

An hour later found Jodi and I entering Beverly’s Bridal Boutique -try saying that ten times fast, its mindboggingly tongue twisting – for the final fitting appointment for my wedding dress. At that point, the last thing I felt like doing was dressing up and playing bride. Oh yeah. I wasn’t playing, that’s the part I keep forgetting, I was supposed to get married in a week. I dreaded the festivities that would surely await me by the exuberant staff of the bridal boutique.

“Miss Marinelli, welcome Cherie,” said Beverly herself as Jodi and I entered the store. “It is only one week until your big day, how do you feel?”

I groaned.

Jodi said “Better not ask her that, Bev. She’s having some hard core cold feet.”

The two married women laughed knowingly.

“Ah, Nina cherie, this is normal. It will pass and you will have a beautiful life with your love.” Beverly imparted her sage wisdom from twenty years of dealing in wedding finery.

“Which one?” I muttered.

“Nina.” Jodi said exasperatedly.

“What, cherie?” Beverly said.

“Which love?” I sighed.

Jodi turned to Beverly, “I told you, she’s flipping out.”

The two women laughed at my expense as Beverly’s assistants were dispatched to get my bridal gown and Jodi’s bridesmaid’s gown. Beverly led Jodi and I to the fitting rooms and as the gowns were brought to us she put us in adjacent rooms.

As I struggled to get into the wedding gown, my panic rose. The more buttoned into the gown I got, the more nauseous I felt. This just wasn’t the way I wanted to be feeling, the way I should’ve been feeling a week before my wedding. I should have been happy, excited, thrilled. Not scared. Not dreading it. Not feeling like I was about to make the biggest, most irreversible mistake of my life.

“Nina, are you seriously telling me you can’t see how ridiculous you’re being?” Jodi said in response to the muttering and groaning going on in my fitting room.

“I can’t help it Jodes. I can’t get past this feeling that…that…that I can’t go through with it.” I said.

We exited our dressing rooms simultaneously. I caught my reflection in the floor to ceiling mirror and I was stunned by what I saw. Yards of silk cascaded from my hips in a graceful arc. The strapless bodice set off my long neck and completed the picture of an elegant, graceful bride. Oh My God. I was dizzy. I was a bride. I started to cry gently.

“Oh Jodi, what am I doing?” I said as the seamstresses started fidgeting around me.

“Nina, I promise you, this is normal cold feet, there is no reason for you to get yourself so worked up.”

The seamstresses were pulling and pinning and adjusting my gown. To no one’s surprise, my gown was too big. A tortured mind does not make for a big appetite and I’d lost almost ten pounds in the past three weeks.

“It’s not normal Jodi. Its real, it’s huge, its epic, it’s…”

I couldn’t take my eyes off the image in the mirror. I was a bride. I looked the way I’d always imagined. Only the groom wasn’t who I’d always imagined he’d be. Beverly walked over and placed my tiara on my head. My panic was getting harder to suppress. I felt like I was going to faint. Jodi looked at me skeptically.

“It is more than that Jodi,” I continued. “When I was with Jack…I didn’t have, well, I didn’t have doubts. About us. About the fact that we were supposed to be together and that it was good and right…”

“Your expectations weren’t the same then, it is different.” Jodi said.

“No, it is different, but not in the way you’re thinking. I didn’t look back then. I didn’t have doubts. I was there, with Jack. No matter what our problems were, I don’t know, somehow I knew they would all work out. Now it seems like all I do is look back. All I do is question the rightness of things.”

“Nina, I really do think you are just over-reacting. It’s not Jack you have feelings for…you’ve romanticized the past, and it really wasn’t the way you remember it…”

“No, no… I think you’re wrong. I know you’re wrong. Jack was, well, Jack was…”

“A hurricane?” Jodi giggled and I couldn’t help but smile. The image was pure Jack. He was a whirling dervish. The Tasmanian Devil. I sighed. I missed that. I missed his energy, his enthusiasm, his vitality. And I wondered, for probably the millionth time, how I had let things get so far and so out of control.

“Yeah. But he was fun and sweet and wonderful, too. What am I gonna do?”

Jodi sat down on a nearby chair and sighed. “No one said being grown up was fun.”

I leaned against the wall and the seamstresses glared at me. I must have looked particularly pathetic because when she saw the look in my eyes, she squeezed my arm affectionately and told me she was going to take a quick break.

“Yeah. Well right now it particularly sucks.”

“Nina, what do you want?”

I couldn’t believe she had asked me that. I mean hadn’t she been listening to me at all?

“No, you know what I mean, ” Jodi continued off my look. “Go beneath the surface, beneath the panic. What do you really want. What do you hope to accomplish with all this drama?”

I really hadn’t thought about what I truly wanted. I had been too busy just feeling. I wanted Jack, of course. But, how? It was all so damn complicated. I shrugged.

“I don’t know, Jodes,” I said. “I just can’t stop thinking about him. He’s possessed me.”

“No Nina, you’re obsessing with him. Jack was a selfish, egomaniacal boy.”

“That was a long time ago. He’s probably grown up by now. Jack…I mean he would do anything to prove a point. Anything. And Doug, well, Doug’s the kind of guy who has to listen to an entire CD before he buys it.”

“Doug adores you.” Jodi said.

“I know. You don’t think I know that? I have feelings for Doug. Its not that I don’t. I know Doug is good for me. It’s a very civilized relationship. Its very sane. But I just don’t have the feelings for Doug that I had for Jack. Not even remotely.”

“Nina…”

The seamstress returned, clucking at me to stand up straight and be still. They started moving around me, pinning and fitting my gown.

“Shit. This isn’t easy for me, Jodi. For all I know Jack could be married. And I know if I let myself go through with this wedding, and I don’t really see how I couldn’t, Doug and I will have a nice life. But I will always miss Jack. And I will always love him.”

“Nina, look in the mirror. Jack was another life. One that didn’t work out…”

“But that’s just it, Jodes. It’s like I’ve been living two lives. My real one,” I held out the sides of my voluminous skirt, “And the one in my head, which unfortunately for us all right now, is also the life my heart wants to lead.”

“Nina, come on. Be realistic. This is nothing but a fantasy born out of your fear of commitment.”

“No…maybe…I know, but…”

I went back into the dressing room to change back into my clothes. Jodi was relentlessly trying to talk some sense into me.

“What you’re looking for doesn’t exist. It’s a figment of your imagination. Your highly romanticized imagination. Real people have problems, they disagree, they fight…”

“But that’s just it, Jodi. Doug and I don’t fight. Ever. Well, I fight and he just stands there smiling a patronizing little smile and waiting for it to blow over. And Jack and I, well-whether to watch Monday Night Football or Ally Mc Beal could be turned into World War three. And I never thought I’d say it, but I miss those fights. Because Jack and I had passion. And you know what? Doug’s a good guy, but I’d be very surprised if there was a passionate bone in his body.”

“You and Jack were young, he was in grad school, you were just starting your career, neither of you had much responsibility yet.” Jodi said.

“We were almost 30 years old when we broke up for good Jodi. That’s a far cry from being 19.” I struggled to free myself from my wedding gown. Christ! I was suffocating under miles of tulle.

After freeing my hands and head I continued: “And I just think Jack and I genuinely loved one another. In a once-in-a-lifetime sort of way. And Doug, well, I know he loves me-but he’s too reserved to really let himself go and be in love, you know. And I really do think he loves the idea of me more than me as a flesh and blood living woman.”

“Bullshit Nina. Wake up. Grow up. You and Jack weren’t right for each other at all.” She pointed to my reflection in the mirror. “Look at yourself. You’re an adult. Doug is difficult, yes. But he is more of an adult than Jack could ever hope to be and you and he will have a wonderful, solid, stable life together.”

“I know there’s a ring of truth to what you’re saying. At least what you’re saying about Doug.” I said as I exited the fitting room dressed once again in my jeans and sweater. “But it’s that fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants feeling that I miss… I don’t want to spring out of bed the moment the alarm clock goes off and eat three square meals a day and wear sensible shoes and read a book on a rainy day…”

“Well, I don’t know about the shoes,” Jodi said, bemused. “But the rest of it…it’s just part of growing up and settling down.”

Jodi exited her fitting room. I looked thoughtfully at my reflection for a moment before turning to Jodi.

“You know what I want? I want to hit snooze seven times, I want to have chocolate milk and Oreos for breakfast, I want to take a nap in the middle of the day for no better reason than the bed looks inviting, I want to wear ridiculously high heels, I want to go sailing in the rain…Doug…”

Jodi turned and looked at my dressing room where I’d left my bridal gown in a heap on the floor and rolled her eyes. I shrugged, then sighed. There was no easy solution. I continued:

“Doug wears sensible shoes. And Jack, well, Jack’s the kind of guy who goes sailing in the rain.”

“I give up.” Jodi paused and put her hand on my shoulder “Nina, I love you, and you know I only want you to be happy. But look at you — you’ve always been afraid of commitment and I really think that no matter what you believe, this is a product of pre-wedding jitters. It will go away. I promise.”

I looked at Jodi skeptically. “I hope so, Jodes. I hope so.”

Later that afternoon I was back at the Grotto kitchen, absentmindedly kneading some dough for the dinner shift. I find the kneading of dough to be very therapeutic. Doug was on my mind for a change. Er, well, that’s not entirely true either. I was imagining the various ways in which I could wriggle out of my impending wedding whereby I wouldn’t have to take any responsibility whatsoever. And I was wishing that Doug was the kind of person with a past. The kind of person where if I hired a detective he would dig up some illicit thing from the past that would justify enough indignation on my part to allow me to justifiably cancel the spectacle of a wedding that was barreling nearer and nearer with every moment.

What would it be, I thought, if Doug were to be embroiled in a scandal? Was he caught with drugs in college? No. Selling drugs? No, I thought ruefully. Not Doug’s style at all. It was more, well, more Jack’s style. And I laughed aloud, causing the kitchen staff to look at me strangely. I remembered the time in Jack’s 2^nd year of business school when he was determined to get stoned. He couldn’t believe he’d made it that far without it. I have almost graduated from Berkeley twice, he said, I’m almost 25, he said, how is it possible that I’ve never been stoned, he said. And I remember sitting there laughing and telling him it wasn’t that big of a deal and if he wanted to I could get my hands on some weed for him. He was adamant in his refusal not to put me in the hands of “those drug dealers.”

I was literally rolling at this point, thinking of the frat guy I’d always gotten my pot from. I mean it was no more dangerous than going to pick up lecture notes from a classmate. And “Shroom” as he was called, was well known in Berkeley for his little drug trafficking business. Never one to deal in the hard stuff, Shroom was a legend at school-he was, at that point, something like an eighth year senior-and it was rumored that the proclivity Berkeley students had for marijuana was funding his drawn out college career.

So Jack, out of some misguided sense of chivalry, decides to pay a visit to Shroom himself. Jack hauls off to Shroom’s house and completes the transaction. Feeling quite proud of himself he decides to stop at 7-11 to buy some beer, chips and cookies and head into Chinatown to pick up some take out at my favorite Chinese restaurant. After all, he’d been hearing all these legendary stories about “the munchies” and thought he ought to be prepared, having, under normal circumstances, quite a large appetite. So he’s heading back from Chinatown, back seat filled with orange peel chicken, kung pao chicken, egg rolls, lettuce wraps, szechwan beef, as well as the beer, chips and cookies. While reaching for the cookies in the back seat, he rolls thru a light as it goes from green to yellow to red and narrowly misses running into the back of a streetcar. Of course, all of this was seen by the SFPD waiting at the opposite light.

Jack gets pulled over, and is so freaked out and flustered because of the pot in his pocket, that he’s acting bizarrely. Of course, the officer picks up on this and figures he’s already stoned or drunk or something and asks him to step out of the car. When he asks Jack for his license, Jack, shaking like a leaf by now, reaches into his pocket and hands the officer not his wallet, but the baggie of marijuana.

I’m sitting back at Jack’s place wondering what could possibly be taking him so long. I’d already placed a call to Shroom and found out that he left there about an hour before. The phone rang and I debated answering it as it was Jack and his roommate Chachi’s phone. (We called him Chachi because of the resemblance he bore to Scott Baio.) The message picks up and I heard a hysterical Jack babbling into the machine.

“Nina, Nina are you there? Chachi, dude pick up. Fuck. Christ. Where are you guys?”

I picked up the phone and Jack recounted what had happened at about ten million miles a minute. I was like, Jack, dude, slow down. What are you saying, I said. I’m in jail, he said. Come quick, he said. Oh shit, I said. I’ll have to stop and get some money, I said.

So to make a long story short, the police officers weren’t going to bust Jack’s chops for the miniscule amount of pot he had on him, not once the full story had come out in the hysterical and pathetic way Jack, ignoring his Miranda rights, told it to them while handcuffed in the back of the squad car. They just wanted to scare him good. And at that they succeeded. They did write him some heavy traffic tickets which caused him to try and pick up shifts at work left and right to pay for them without having to tell his parents.

And I laughed again, remembering a week or so later when Jack announced his intention to try again but this time, he’d let me handle the procurement. We laughed so hard that night, I thought we’d have heart attacks. There we were, stoned, naked, sitting in the bathtub filled with pineapple scented bubbles (which just fueled our munchies) eating pizza and zooming in and out on one another. You know what I mean-like Jack would be sitting there and I’d lean in real fast right up until we were nose to nose and zip back. And then he’d do it to me. And then we’d laugh so hard pizza would practically come flying out of our noses. l

And I shook my head because I couldn’t imagine Doug going through that at all. What would be a scandal worthy of Doug? Embezzlement? Money Laundering? Grand theft auto? No, none of those things. Doug was a very upstanding citizen. He’d been appalled enough at many of my stories of college pranks. There’s no way he could’ve ever done something bad enough to shock me.

The simple fact was, Doug was not the kind of person with a past. And Jack, though he came by his misadventures quite innocently, he was still the one with a police record.

And getting out of this wedding, if that was what I truly wanted was going to be all up to me.

“Nina?” Heather’s voice shook me out of my reverie. She stood at the kitchen door .

“What’s up Heather?” I asked.

“Do you have a minute,” she said as she walked over to me and the mound of pizza crusts before me. The staff always knew I was deep in thought when I had a three foot pile of dough in front of me.

“Sure Heather, what’s on your mind?” I said.

“Well, I was upstairs earlier and I couldn’t help overhearing part of your conversation with Todd.”

I looked at her questioningly, thinking which conversation? Todd was the manager of the restaurant, we had hundreds of conversations a day.

“The, er, the one about Jack.” She said.

“Oh. OK. So what is it?” I said.

“It’s an analogy I think is appropriate for your situation. You see, it’s like you’ve passed by a store’s window and seen a dress you absolutely love, but it’s a really expensive dress so you keep walking, but you can’t stop thinking about that dress. It plagues you night and day and the only thing you can do is to go in and try it on-to see if it fits.”

“But what if it does fit?” I had stopped kneading, arms elbow deep in dough. I was totally focused on what Heather was saying, it made perfect sense. Jack was an expensive dress. A really expensive dress. He could cost me everything. He could cost me everything whether or not I went back to try him on.

“Then you have to decide if you can afford it, if the price you have to pay…for the dress, is worth it.” Heather said.

“Wow. That actually makes a lot of sense Heather. Thank you.” I said.

“No problem.” She turned to leave but stopped after a few steps and turned around. “Nina, is there going to be a wedding on Saturday?”

I sighed. “I wish I knew Heather, I wish I knew.”

Heather walked to the door and turned to me just before she left.

“Nina, for what it’s worth. I think you should call the guy. You won’t know – one way or the other – unless you do.” Heather left the kitchen and Jodi walked in.

“Nina, I heard that. Do not call. Don’t open that can of worms.”

“Heather understands.” I said.

“Of course Heather understands,” Jodi said. “She’s 20. She still believes in Santa Claus…”

“What does Santa Claus have to do with this?” I said.

“Jack is Santa Claus, Nina. No matter how much you want to believe in him, no matter how much you try to convince yourself that he’s real, he’s not.” Jodi left.

Damn. I hated to admit it, but they both had really good points. I walked over to the phone on the wall and dialed Doug at home. It rang four times. He picked it up, sounding gruff.

“Hi Doug, it’s me.”

“Nina, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing…I just thought I’d say hi.”

“Oh. Is that all?”

Is that all? Is that all! I wanted to scream.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Hmph. No reason, well, Pookie, I’m working on that Atlas Insurance contract. I’ll see you later.”

“Oh. OK. Bye I guess.”

“Pookie-I saw your red sweater in the bathroom why you didn’t take it to the dry cleaners like I asked?”

I hung up on him. Was he serious? I walked to the sink and furiously scrubbed the dough off my hands and arms, ignoring the ringing of the phone. The sous chef Raphael answered it. It was Doug, of course. I merely looked up and glared. Raphael knew better than to mess with me when I had that look on my face. He made some excuse to Doug and hung up.

Could he be more clueless and insensitive? Was this what I was going to have to deal with for the rest of my life? I went up to my office and paced. I should just do it. I should just call him. Call Jack. What harm can one little phone call do? I picked up the phone and dialed.

“Hi, a number in San Diego. Saracen, Jack Saracen, please.”

I wrote down the number the operator gave me and hung up the phone. I stared at the phone for a moment, half expecting it to admonish me for my indecision. It rang. I jumped. There was no way I was answering that and talking to Doug. Someone picked it up. I paced the room some more. A few minutes later, Jodi popped her head in.

“Doug just called. He wanted to tell you not to worry about your sweater. He’d drop it off at the cleaners.”

“Arrrrghhhhhh! That man!” I said and shut my office door as Jodi was about to ask what was going on.

I picked up the phone and dialed again. I tried not to hyperventilate as the phone rang once, twice, three times. Someone picked up. Oh Shit. It was a woman. I panicked and hung up. I got up, paced my office trying to calm my rapidly beating heart, and realized-I had to get out of there.

I left the restaurant that is now famous for its Jack inspired almond spiced pasta sauce and headed towards the Marina. Fresh air, fresh air was exactly what I needed to clear my head. To clear my head and figure out how to straighten out this mess I was in.

The thing is, on the outside, everything was fine. No one passing me on the street knew that I was not so quietly coming unglued. No one knew the panic I felt at my upcoming nuptials. The absolute, positive dread I felt at walking down the aisle toward the man who loved me surrounded by 300 of our closest friends.

Holy shit. How did I let it get this far?

I kept walking and my demons kept chasing me. I took a deep breath and tried to focus on the city around me. I love San Francisco. I love everything about it. I love the architecture and the crazy steep hillsides and streets. I love the Bay and the bridges and the fog. I love the sky when its blue but I love it more when its classically San Francisco slate gray as it was that day. San Diego was nice, but it wasn’t San Francisco and in all my years there with Jack, I never felt completely at home.

Now there was this complication. A woman at Jack’s house. She could be the maid. No, Jack was messy like me; he would never have a maid. I could remember cleaning the house for when our parents came to San Diego for Thanksgiving-we took everything we didn’t know what to do with and crammed it into the back of Jack’s old Nissan Pathfinder. This is not someone who a few years later has a maid. OK- a relative possibly…no, I’d still recognize his mother and sister’s voices…A girlfriend is more likely. A wife? It could be possible though I couldn’t believe I wouldn’t have heard about him getting married. Someone would take perverse pleasure in filling me in on that little detail.

OK- so a girlfriend. One that is: a) at his house in the middle of the day and b) is comfortable enough being at his house in the middle of the day that she answers his phone. I stopped dead in my tracks. This could be serious. I started walking again. She could live with him. I don’t know though-its only been a little over a year-that’s a little fast. I stopped walking again. Wait a minute Nina; look at what you’ve done in that same period of time. Yikes. This could be serious. I shook my head and started walking again. I never really considered the possibility that Jack could be over me.

“Nina? Nina Marinelli? Is that you?”

I turned around to see who was calling my name and saw an old friend from college, Erin Hayes, heading my way. Erin had been the campus gossip, a fountain of information.

“Erin? Wow. How are you?”

“I’m good…wow… You look great. What are you up to?”

“Oh you know, not much. Jodi Sansone and I opened a restaurant…”

“Really? Which one?” Erin asked.

“Michelangelo’s Gourmet Pizza Grotto…”

“You’re kidding! I love that place. The chicken pesto pizza…I was up in the middle of the night craving it!”

I laughed. “Well that’s good to know.”

“How’s Jack?”

I was momentarily stunned. Here was someone to whom my world with Jack was still intact. “Jack? He’s fine…”

“You know Kelly and Paul Nevers saw Jack and you in San Diego a few months ago. I guess they were in the Marina and saw you guys tinkering around a boat. Or at least they saw Jack and a woman who looked like you from behind. I told them they were nuts. That it couldn’t be you– that you and Jack would have to have been together for what seven or eight years? No one has that kind of love story these days.”

“Yeah, you know Jack and his boats.”

Erin continued. “But Kelly said, if anyone was gonna have that kind of fairy tale it would be you guys.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“You guys always were inseparable.” She laughed. “You know, I always had a big crush on him. And hey, if I couldn’t have him at least I lost out to someone who turned out to be the love of his life…”

Love of his life. Love of his life. These four words reverberated in my mind like a skipping CD.

Erin laughed again. “God, I forgot about Jack and his whole crazy fishing thing. How is that going?”

And I thought, Erin that is why he left you. You called his fishing crazy. Jack was many things, but first and foremost, he was a man born to fish. The sea and sun and wind were in his soul.

“It’s going pretty well. He started his own deep sea fishing charter company, he has three boats so far…and…look about Jack…” I really had to say something. Anything.

Erin caught sight of my engagement ring and grabbed my hand.

“Ohmygod Nina, its gorgeous! So when are you getting married?”

“Next weekend, actually…look Erin…”

“No way! That’s great! So is Jack living in San Francisco now?”

“Er, no, not…yet.”

“Well that’s got to be hard. When I met my husband during law school we were both living in Boston, but I knew, I just knew I had to come back to San Francisco, and he loved me enough that it was cool with him even though he had an amazing job offer there.”

“Wow. That’s really great Erin.” Why didn’t Jack move to San Francisco with me? Was that the reason, was that the reason I’d been searching for all this time? That he simply didn’t love me enough to make the move? No. I couldn’t, I wouldn’t, I refused to believe it for more than a second.

“Erin, I’ve really got to run. Got to get back to the Grotto for the dinner rush.”

“Oh yeah, wow. Congratulations on the restaurant, that’s really amazing.”

“Thank you. You should come by for dinner with your husband one night.”

“I will. And congratulations on your wedding. Give Jack my best, too.”

“Erin, about Jack and I…”

“I can’t wait to tell Kelly you guys are getting married” She laughed. “Really, it’s so sweet. College sweethearts. After all this time.”

“Yeah. After all this time. Well, Erin it was great seeing you.”

“You too Nina. Take care.”

I turned and walked away from Erin, my heart pounding fiercely. What the hell was wrong with me? Why did I let her believe it was Jack I was marrying next weekend? I grinned. Oh well, if she ever showed up at the Grotto with her husband, I could explain why I wasn’t married then. Wait a minute, I thought. Did I just say why I wasn’t married? Oh Lord. I really needed to get a grip. It was Saturday afternoon. My wedding was in T-minus seven days and counting. At this exact time in one week, I was scheduled to be swathed in miles of silk and tulle. Or was I? I was so confused I didn’t know which end was up. Or, thinking back on my conversation with Erin, who I was marrying, or if I was getting married at all. The whole thing started my head pounding again.

I got back to the restaurant in time to prepare for the dinner rush. Since our opening almost eighteen months ago, we’d enjoyed the kind of success Jodi and I had often dreamed of during college when we hatched the idea of Michelangelo’s. We like to say we thought it, spoke it, lived it for so long, that it had no choice but to be successful in a big way. Right now, I was most thankful for this success because the frenzy that accompanied it did a really good job of taking my mind off Jack. I mean Doug. I mean the wedding. Oh shit, let’s be honest, the whole damn mess.

As I entered the Grotto Heather and Todd ran up to me in a panic.

“Oh my God Nina, you’re back. We’ve been looking for you everywhere.” They cried in unison.

“Sorry guys, went for a walk. Sans cell phone. Needed some time to think.” And that’s when I noticed the expression on their faces. Like they knew something and didn’t want to tell me. My heart dropped into my toes for the seventeenth time that day.

“What’s wrong, what’s going on?” I asked, slightly hysterical. It didn’t take much to push me into hysteria these days.

Heather and Todd looked at one another and started debating.

“I’m not telling her, you tell her.” Heather said.

“No way. No way am I telling her.” Todd said.

“What are we, eight years old? Tell me what?” I screeched.

“Lou quit.” Todd said.

I had to lean against the hostess’ desk to steady myself.

“Lou quit?” I whispered. Could anything more happen to me today? I looked heavenward and admonished God for not bestowing peace and serenity on my life. Lou was our pastry chef and while he was good at what he did, it was not the loss of his baking skills that so disturbed me. Lou made the best cup of half caf decap Cap in the City. OK, sure my old mentor Maurice made a mean cup of joe, but I needed my cappuccino fix every morning and Lou knew exactly the right blend of caffienated to decaffeinated to give it the power to get my brain jump started but not make me feel so wired that I could feel each individual strand of hair on my head standing on end. And besides, I liked him. One of the greatest things about the Grotto is its staff. Everyone likes one another. We’re a team. We’re friends. We’re family. I headed back to the kitchen to investigate.

I entered the kitchen in battle mode. I was prepared to get down on my knees and beg, if necessary. Lou had to stay, he just had to. At that moment my need for the perfect caffeine fix was so acute there wasn’t any amount of money I wouldn’t have thrown at him to make him stay. I’d deal with Jodi’s feelings on it later. After all, some things are just necessities.

“Surprise!”

I jumped. Standing in front of me were my four best friends and bridesmaids, Jodi, Laura, Emily and Erika, holding champagne and glasses and various strange looking bridal accoutrements.

Erika laughed. “Well we must have surprised her, look at her, she looks like she’s gonna pass out.”

“So Lou isn’t quitting?” I asked in a small voice.

Lou, giant of a man that he is, appeared at my side with a piping hot cup of half caf decaf cap. “I told them not to use that ploy to get you in here. I told them it would be too much for you.” He put an arm around my shoulders as I drank from the cup of life.

“What’s going on?” I asked my friends. “What are you all doing here?” Despite Lou’s grip on me, I was wobbly and Laura appeared at my side with a steadying arm.

“We’re going to Las Vegas!” Emily said.

“Vegas?” My knees felt wobbly. Lou held me tighter. “Why?”

They started to laugh.

“I told you she needed this.” Jodi said. “Its your exorcism, Nina.”

I spit my cappuccino out. “My what?” I croaked.

My so-called friends were really laughing at me now.

“Its your bachelorette party, you dork.” Erika said.

“Oh.” I said. “Cool.”

Vegas. Oh Lord. Las Vegas. How was I going to be able to handle that?

Cold Feet by Amy Lamare is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
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