Chapter 7: Ring

On Saturday night, Rocco knelt in the middle of my restaurant's dining room with a ring box open in his hand.

I was on the line, plating duck, when the host leaned through the pass.

"Gia, there's a man asking for you. He has flowers and a friend with a phone."

I wiped my hands and went out in my whites.

Forty people were eating at candlelit tables, and every one of them turned to watch.

Rocco was at the center of the room in his good jacket.

A guy from his gym stood behind him, holding a phone up and grinning.

"Gia," Rocco said, loud and warm. "I was a coward and a fool."

I said nothing.

"I know I hurt you. But I can't sleep, I can't eat. You're the only woman I want to marry."

Somebody at table six whispered, "Oh my God."

A woman near the window put her hand over her heart.

I looked at the ring, a thin gold band with a small stone.

Then I looked at the friend and his phone.

"Stand up, Rocco," I said.

"Say yes and I'll stand."

"How many nights did you go to Carla's door?"

The grin on his friend's face faltered.

Rocco's smile stayed where it was, but his eyes moved around the room.

"Babe, not here."

"You picked here. You brought a camera."

"It's over with her. It was a mistake, I swear."

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