The Green Lace Corset, стр. 20

He removed his fedora with a smile. “How nice of you to greet me here, amore mio.”

Anne’s heart chakra permeated with heat. She was still deeply in love with him. “Hi” was all she could eke out.

He walked toward her, kissed her cheeks, and led her across the lobby to the bank of elevators. As the doors closed, she stood as far away from him as possible. The spark between them was impossible to ignore, and they stared at each other all the way to the nineteenth floor.

The Top of the Mark hostess led them to a table overlooking the bay. Sergio pulled out a chair overlooking Grace Cathedral and gestured for Anne to sit. He always gave her the seat with the best view.

He removed his jacket, draped it carefully on the back of his chair, and sat down across from her. His shoulders looked as if he’d been doing extra workouts. Darn it. Why did he have to be so sexy?

She wished they could still be together. But his life was in New York and hers was here, and there was no way to make it work. Their early long-distance relationship had been tantalizing and fun, but then, after a year, it had become unrealistic.

A waitress carrying a tray came by. “Hot mango margaritas are our specialty tonight.”

“Want one?” Sergio asked Anne.

“Sounds delish.” After the other night, she’d thought she’d never drink again, but she felt fine now.

“Okay, we’ll each have one.”

“Yes, sir.” The waitress sashayed away toward the bar.

He redid his ponytail. “It’s good to see you. You look healthy.”

To some women, that might not have sounded like a compliment, but he knew Anne struggled to stay in shape and had been the one who’d gotten her started doing yoga. “Thanks. I’ve been trying to eat well and practicing a lot of yoga.”

“That makes me happy. It’s all really paying off.” He smiled. “I’m excited about your artist-in-residence opportunity. When will they decide?”

“I don’t know. They haven’t even scheduled the interviews yet.” She considered telling him about Karl but didn’t want to ruin the evening with negative thoughts.

The waitress dropped off their drinks. Sergio held up his margarita to Anne. “To us.”

What was that supposed to mean? She clinked her glass with his anyway. “There’s no more us,” she blurted out. So much for not ruining the evening.

He leaned toward her. “That’s not true. We still have our history. No one can ever take that away.”

“I guess you’re right. Sorry.”

“I’m taking a ski vacation early next year. I’d love it if you’d join me.”

“We’re broken up. How can we go on a trip together?”

“Separate rooms?” He smiled sheepishly.

“Oh, yeah. That would work really well.”

“Just think about it.”

She had always wanted to go skiing. Her klutziness shouldn’t be a problem. He could ride the lifts to the top peaks, and she could take lessons on the bunny slope. When she got tired, she’d hang out in the lodge by the fire, drinking hot toddies in a cute après-ski outfit. Sergio would meet her and think she looked really sexy in it. She considered where she might find a vintage one, then caught herself.

“As nice as it sounds, I’ll probably need to work.” She took another sip of her margarita.

The tables had filled up with guests by now. They hovered at the windows, taking photos of the bay and the Golden Gate Bridge as a pink sunset ignited above San Francisco’s skyline and fairy-tale lights began to blink below. Grace Cathedral’s rose window glowed with color.

A waitress lit the candle on their table, and Sergio studied the menu.

“Careful.” He pointed to Anne’s menu as it dipped toward the flame. He handed her his phone, with the flashlight app on. “Here, use this. Remember Rome?”

How could she forget the night she had caught a restaurant on fire? She’d never been so embarrassed in her life. As they’d planned their scooter trip for the next day, the map had fallen into the candle, smoke filled the air, and the map caught fire. Sergio grabbed it from her, tossed in on the floor, and stomped on it. The maître d’ had rushed over and sprayed it out with an extinguisher.

“I’m a-gonna lose a whole night’s business,” the restaurant owner yelled, as the fire alarm shrieked and the guests evacuated.

“Spiacente.” Sergio gave him a handful of euros as they headed out the door.

Now, Sergio said, “I’ve never understood why you can’t use GPS, like everyone else.”

“I like to use the real thing, and besides, I repurpose my used maps in collages.”

“You sure weren’t able to use that one for art.”

They both laughed. It hadn’t been funny then. She had been even more embarrassed than she had the time her cell phone went off at the Metropolitan Opera. He’d been pretty pissed about that too.

She finished her margarita, the color of the sun that had just gone down.

He reached his hands across the table to take hers, and his eyes softened. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“Me too.”

“I’m so glad to see you.”

“Me too.” She pulled her hands away. “Aren’t you hungry? You’re usually starved.”

Sergio waved over the waitress. “What do you want?” he asked Anne.

“No, you go right ahead.” She always had him do it because he was a foodie. “Remember, I’m a pescatarian.”

“I’d never forget that about you.”

He looked at the waitress. “We’ll have the olives and baked Camembert.” Sergio pronounced the name of the cheese perfectly—another reason she always wanted him to order.

“We’ll also have Dungeness crab quesadillas and truffles for dessert, and another round of margaritas.”

“Not for me, thanks.” Anne handed her glass to the waitress. That one drink had made her dizzy, and she needed to stay sober.

“Another one won’t hurt. Please join me.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Please. For old times’ sake.”

She acquiesced. “Okay.”

The waitress repeated the order and left. Dishes clinked and voices murmured around them. The people at the next table laughed loudly. The waitress dropped off the olives, and Anne and Sergio