Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77359 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77359 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
He held the door for me, and I climbed into the back seat. He got in the passenger seat, which was a bit of a letdown. I’d liked it better when it was me sitting up there and him driving. It had been so fascinating watching the confident way he drove. Even now, I could see women driving cars on either side of ours, but it seemed like such an unobtainable thing. My father had never let me try driving. And my mother had never learned.
The driver stopped farther down the road. I slid over and waited for Carmine to open my door, since I knew that was the protocol. But I made sure I was ready to hop out. The wide street was full of traffic, and I knew the driver couldn’t stop for long.
Carmine guided me between the crowds on the wide sidewalk, but unlike before, we weren’t right in front of a building. There were only tall buildings around us. It didn’t look like the place where you’d find an upscale boutique.
My future brother-in-law looked down at me. “You know, I think Andrew dropped us off at the wrong spot.”
That seemed surprising. Usually, Carmine seemed to have everything under control. “Can we walk?” I relished the thought. There were so many people out and about. Some caried shopping bags. Some talked on their phones. Some appeared to be tourists, looking around with wide eyes, as I was.
“It’s a bit too far.” To my surprise, he grinned. “I know what we can do.”
His hand on my back, he ushered me to through the crowd until they parted in front of us, revealing a staircase that led downward. I stopped at the top, but Carmine took my arm, pulling me down the busy staircase. I scanned the signs above us and suddenly understood. “We’re taking the subway? I mean, the L?”
He grinned but kept us moving. I did my best to keep up—there were too many people on the stairs to dawdle.
When we got to the underground station, there were lines of people crowded around the wall in front of a machine that apparently sold tickets. But Carmine reached in the pocket of his suit coat and handed me a little plastic card. When we got to the turnstile, he showed me how to tap it to the little sensor.
On either side of us, people were rushing through, but it was all new to me.
“I need the card.”
I handed it back to him and then watched as he had to turn himself sideways to fit through.
We descended another level, and Carmine pointed out the overhead signs which told us which way the trains were going. Not that I knew Chicago geography well enough for that to tell me much.
We only had to wait a few minutes before ours showed up. I was grateful for Carmine’s large hand on my arm when it was time to board, because there were as many people getting on as there were getting off. He managed to find us a free pair of seats, and I pushed myself against the window to give his large frame as much space as possible.
Then the train took off, picking up speed rapidly. “Having fun?” Carmine asked in my ear, his voice audible in spite of the noise.
I looked around, at the tired-looking woman holding a toddler in her arms. At the businessman standing near the door, not holding onto anything for balance as he stared at his phone. At the two teenagers with earbuds in. And at a very spaced-out man who looked drunk or worse.
Then I grinned at Carmine. “Yes!”
“Are you sure?” I said an hour or two later as we stood outside of a café. Inside were round tables with red and white checkered tablecloths.
“Yes, you’ll love it.”
“No, I mean—are you sure I’m allowed to be here?” I wasn’t sure if I’d set in foot inside any place except for wedding boutiques since I’d gotten here.
“Yes.” He opened the door, and I ducked inside. A man behind the bar called out to him, and Carmine gave him a wave. “I know the owner.”
A waiter showed us to a table. Carmine sat with his back to the wall, his eyes vigilant. Before I’d had time to survey the small restaurant another waiter showed up, this time with menus, a bottle of red wine, and two glasses. “Gratzie,” Carmine said, and I echoed him.
The menu showed typical Italian fare, but there were so many categories. Seafood. Steak. Pasta. Salads. I read the description to every entrée.
“I have no idea what to get,” I confessed.
“You’re probably not used to having so many choices,” he observed.
That was for sure. “Yeah, I don’t often get to choose for myself.”
A shadow crossed his face and then disappeared as he tossed his menu on the table. “Then choose for both of us.”