Capri Nights by Cara Marsi

Their time apart made her love him more, and appreciate him more. He’d earned her respect too with the hard work and long hours he put in sorting out the mess his uncle and cousin had made to his company.
    Cat understood about dedication to a career. She worked long, sometimes grueling, hours at the restaurant. The work filled her days, and her nights were filled with dreams of Alex, his smile, his laugh, his kindness, his sensuality.
    Fighting waves of loneliness for him, she gripped the edge of the counter. She hadn’t heard from Alex in two days, despite sending him several texts. The comforting aromas of onion, garlic, oregano, veal, and pork that enveloped her failed to take a bite out of the worry that ate at her. She inhaled sharply, breathing in the lime and basil of the perfume Alex had bought her on Capri. Wanting to make it last, she wore it sparingly. This morning, as she got ready for work, missing Alex fiercely, she put on the perfume as if it could bring him closer.
    The Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays were approaching, the restaurant’s busiest season. After the holidays, they would close for two weeks for some minor renovations. This morning, Cat decided she’d go to Italy during the break. She had to see Alex. If only he’d call to reassure her everything was okay.
    The clatter of broken dishes shattered her thoughts. The murmurs of conversation in the kitchen died as all eyes focused on the red-faced busboy who’d dropped a tray loaded with dirty dishes. Cat hurried over to reassure the poor kid while one of the prep guys grabbed a broom.
    The temporary crisis over, Cat pulled a salmon filet from the refrigerator. As she set it on the prep counter, Edward, the maître’d, rushed in.
    “Cat, there’s someone here to see you,” he said.
    “See me? Does he have a question about his meal? I’ve got to prepare this salmon.”
    Edward shook his head. “He didn’t eat here. Just now walked in.”
    She glanced over at Bobbie. “Go ahead, Cat,” he said. “I’ll get one of the other sous chefs to take over.”
    In front of the door, she slipped off her skull cap, loosened her hair from its low knot and raked her fingers through it, letting it fall over her shoulders. Smoothing the chef’s jacket she wore over her skirt and sweater, she went through the swinging doors into the dining room.
    And froze. Her legs as wobbly as watery gelatin, she backed up against the wall as her heart beat a wild staccato.
    Alex, holding a large bouquet of red roses, stood across the room. Dressed all in black—black jeans, black turtleneck sweater, black leather jacket, his dark blond hair brushing against the collar of his sweater—he looked like a tasty dessert she wanted to devour.
    His gaze never leaving hers, he walked slowly across the room and handed her the roses. “For you, my beautiful Cat.”
    With shaking hands, she accepted the flowers and buried her nose in them. Taking a moment for her mind to settle, she inhaled their sweetness. She lifted her gaze to his. “Alex. You’re here.” Way to state the obvious, Cat .
    “I couldn’t stay away.”
    Cat set the flowers on the bussing table near the door and walked into Alex’s arms, clinging to him, afraid if she let go she’d realize he’d been an apparition conjured up by her loneliness.
    He pressed her close and stroked a hand down her hair. “Cat. Cat.” His husky voice, filled with yearning, warmed her like rich Italian coffee.
    Finally, he pulled away and cupped her face between his hands to look deeply into her eyes. “I must talk to you.”
    Her breath caught at the serious tone of his voice. He wouldn’t have come all this way to break up with her. “I don’t get off work for hours yet.”
    Someone nearby cleared his throat. Behind her, Edward hovered.
    “Bobbie says take as much time as you want with your friend ,” Edward said.
    “Tell him thanks.” Cat grabbed Alex’s arm and tugged him to a small empty table in the