A Second Helping

When she slides a plate in front of me, piled high with bacon, eggs, and toast, I dig in, my stomach growling. It’s simple food, but it tastes like heaven, like home.

“This is amazing,” I say around a mouthful of eggs. “Thank you.”

She smiles, sipping her coffee. “You’re welcome,” she says, her voice soft.

We eat without speaking, the morning sun warm on our faces. It feels easy, natural, like we’ve been doing this for years. Like we never stopped.

When we’re finished, Vittoria clears the plates, stacking them in the sink. “So,” she says, her voice soft. “What now?”

I take a deep breath, my heart racing. “I don’t know,” I say, my voice rough. “But I know I don’t want to lose this. Lose you. Not again.”

She nods, her eyes searching my face. “I don’t want to lose you either,” she says, her voice soft. “But Stuart, we can’t just pretend the last five years didn’t happen. We have to talk about it. Really talk.”

I nod, my throat tight. “I know,” I say, my voice rough. “And we will. As much as we need to. But Vittoria…”

She looks at me, her eyes questioning.

“I love you,” I say, the words feeling inadequate, insufficient. “I love you more than anything in this world. And I want to make this work. Whatever it takes.”

She smiles, a small, tentative lift of her lips. “I love you too,” she says, her voice soft. “And I want to make this work too. But we have to be smart about it. We have to take it slow.”

I nod, my heart thudding. “Slow,” I agree, my voice rough. “As slow as you need.”

She takes a step closer, her hand coming up to rest on my cheek. “Thank you,” she says, her voice soft. “For understanding. For being patient.”

I turn my head, pressing a kiss to her palm. “Always,” I say, my voice rough. “I’ll always be patient for you.”

She smiles, a real smile this time, bright and beautiful. “I know,” she says, her voice soft. “I know you will.”

I pull her close, my arms tightening around her waist. “So,” I say, my voice rough. “What do you want to do today?”

She thinks for a moment, her head tilted to the side. “I don’t know,” she says finally, her voice soft. “But whatever it is, I want to do it with you.”

I smile, my heart full. “Me too,” I say, my voice rough. “Me too.”

We stand there for a long moment, just holding each other, the morning sun warm on our skin, the scent of coffee and bacon still lingering. It feels like a beginning, like a promise, like a chance to start again.

And for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

I take a deep breath, my pulse quickening. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Vittoria looks up from her coffee, her eyes searching my face. “Okay,” she says, her voice soft. “What is it?”

I clear my throat, my fingers toying with the handle of my espresso cup. “I’ve been thinking,” I say, my voice rough. “About my job. About Seattle.”

Vittoria’s eyes widen, her chest stilling. “What about it?” she says, her voice careful.

I take a deep breath, my heart thudding. “I’m going to quit,” I say, my voice rough. “I’m going to leave the firm. Move back to Portland. For good.”

Vittoria stares at me, her mouth open, her eyes wide. “Stuart,” she says, her voice breathless. “Are you sure?”

I nod, my jaw tight. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” I say, my voice rough. “I don’t want to waste another minute in that city, in that job. I want to be here. With you. With the restaurant. With the life we always wanted.”

Vittoria reaches across the table, her hand coming to rest on mine. “Stuart,” she says, her voice soft. “Are you sure? Really sure? Because I don’t want you to do this for me. I don’t want you to resent me for it later.”

I shake my head, my fingers tightening on hers. “I’m not doing it for you,” I say, my voice rough. “I’m doing it for us. For the life we deserve. For the happiness we’ve been missing.”

Vittoria smiles, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Okay,” she says, her voice soft. “Okay. Let’s do it. Let’s make a life together.”

I smile, my heart full. “Together,” I say, my voice rough. “Always.”

I reach across the table, my hand finding Stuart’s. “Together,” I echo, my voice soft. “Always.”

He smiles, his eyes narrowing with warmth. “So,” he says, his voice rough. “What now?”

I take a deep breath, my mind racing. “Now,” I say, my voice soft. “We rebuild. We make this restaurant everything it was always meant to be.”

Stuart nods, his fingers tightening on mine. “I’m in,” he says, his voice rough. “Just tell me what you need.”

I smile, a spark of excitement igniting in my chest. “I need a partner,” I say, my voice soft. “Someone to help me run this place. Someone to share the load.”

Stuart grins, his eyes bright. “I think I know a guy,” he says, his voice wry.

I laugh, the sound loud in the quiet diner. “Is that so?” I say, my voice teasing.

He nods, his face turning serious. “I’m yours, Vittoria,” he says, his voice rough. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

I look at him then, really look at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes, the love in his smile. “Forever,” I say, my voice soft. “I’ll have you forever.”

He smiles, his hand coming up to rest on my cheek. “Forever,” he agrees, his voice rough.

We sit there for a long moment, our hands entwined, the morning sun warm on our faces. It feels like a beginning, like a promise, like a chance to start again.

And for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

Later that day, we stand together in the empty restaurant, the late afternoon sun slanting through the windows. The place is quiet, the chairs stacked on the tables, the floors swept clean.

“It’s going to be a lot of work,” I say, my voice soft. “Rebuilding this place. Making it ours.”

Stuart nods, his eyes taking in the room. “I know,” he says, his voice rough. “But we can do it. Together.”

I smile, my heart full. “Together,” I agree, my voice soft.

We spend the next few hours planning, dreaming, our heads bent together over notebooks and sketches. Stuart listens as I outline my vision for the restaurant, nodding along, offering suggestions, his corporate mind finding solutions to problems I hadn’t even considered.

“You’re good at this,” I say, my voice soft. “Really good.”

He smiles, his eyes bright. “I’ve had some practice,” he says, his voice wry. “But this? This feels different. This feels right.”

I nod, my heart thudding. “It does,” I say, my voice soft. “It really does.”

As the sun begins to set, painting the room in fiery hues, Stuart turns to me, his face serious. “There’s just one more thing,” he says, his voice rough.

I look at him, my eyes questioning. “What’s that?” I say, my voice soft.

He takes a deep breath, his hand coming up to rest on my arm. “I want to be your partner, Vittoria,” he says, his voice rough. “In every sense of the word.”

I stare at him, my heart racing. “Stuart,” I say, my voice breathless. “Are you asking what I think you’re asking?”

He nods, his eyes searching mine. “I am,” he says, his voice rough. “Vittoria Bellucci, will you marry me? Again?”

I look at him then, really look at him, seeing the love in his eyes, the promise in his smile. And in that moment, I know. I know that no matter what happens, no matter what obstacles we face, Stuart and I will face them together. That we’ll find our way back to each other, one kiss, one touch, one moment at a time.

“Yes,” I say, my voice soft. “Yes, Stuart Rossi, I will marry you. Again.”

He smiles, his eyes shining with tears. “Thank God,” he says, his voice rough. “Because I don’t think I could have handled it if you said no.”

Six months later, I stand on the beach, the salty wind tugging at my hair, the horizon stretching before me like a promise. Beside me, Stuart’s hand is warm in mine, his thumb moving across my knuckles in a familiar rhythm.

“Remember the last time we were here?” he says, his voice soft.

I nod, a smile forming at the corners of my mouth. “I remember,” I say, my voice just as quiet. “I was so angry at you. So convinced that we were over for good.”

Stuart laughs, the sound deep and rich. “You weren’t the only one,” he says, his voice wry. “I thought I’d lost you forever.”

I turn to look at him, my heart full. “But you didn’t,” I say, my voice firm. “You fought for us. For this life.”

He smiles, his eyes narrowing at the corners. “We both did,” he says, his voice rough. “And look at us now.”

I nod, my gaze drifting over the water, the waves crashing against the shore. The restaurant is thriving, our marriage stronger than ever. We’ve built a life together, a life full of love and laughter and the sweet scent of basil.

“It’s perfect,” I say, my voice soft.

Stuart nods, his hand tightening on mine. “It is,” he says, his voice rough. “And it’s only going to get better.”

I smile, leaning into his side. “I know,” I say, my voice certain. “I know.”

We stand there for a long moment, watching the sun sink toward the horizon, the sky streaked with orange and pink. It feels like the end of something, like the closing of a chapter. But more than that, it feels like a beginning.

“And that was the beginning,” I murmur, the words tasting like truth on my tongue.