The Return Home

Bianca and Colin arrived at a quaint little Italian-American restaurant. Bianca drove in her sporty black Jeep Wrangler, with the top down. She didn't mind getting her hair messy. Colin liked seeing her adventurous side—it was totally unpredictable. He had the feeling she wasn't too crazy about him. He was hoping this would be an opportunity to break the ice and turn things around. He didn't know anyone in Dallas outside of his new family.

He thought it would be nice to have a friend, even if she wasn't too friendly. That thought made him chuckle. He looked at her. "Do you eat at this restaurant often?"

"This is actually my first time eating here. I heard from a coworker that the food is delicious. I've been wanting to try the food here." She answered.

"I'm honored to try this restaurant with you?" He smiled and gave her a thumbs up.

The restaurant had Italian music playing. It gave the ambiance of being in an Italian courtyard. The walls were rustic, with a hand-painted mural of Italy. Colin stopped to admire it on the way inside. Bianca grabbed his arm, pulling him along. "We're kind of pressed for time," she reminded him. They only had an hour for lunch.

A hostess showed them to a table while handing them menus. "Your server will be with you momentarily." She waved to get the server's attention.

Colin pulled out Bianca's chair. "I love Italian food. My father was of English descent, but my mother was of Italian and Portuguese ancestry. She was an amazing Italian cook." He added with his lips forming a smile.

"That explains your exotic looks—" Bianca slapped a hand over her mouth. "Everything looks so good on the menu," she emphasized with her face now flushed.

Colin dropped his cellphone on the floor. As he picked it up, he found Bianca studying him. Her smile spread. "We only saw one quarter of the office complex. We have a lot more to see. It will take a couple of days. Brody has done wonders with the engineering department."

The waitress came bearing a basket of hot bread and olive oil for dipping. She took out a pen and pad. "What can I get for you?" She tilted her head in Bianca's direction.

"I'll have a garden salad and chicken parmigiana, with a side of penne," she spoke quickly, closing her menu.

"And for you, sir?"

"That sounds good. I'll have the same thing." He answered.

The waitress put her pen and pad away. She collected their menus. Our chicken parmigiana is my favorite meal here. Good choice."

Bianca rested her chin on her palms and settled her body in her chair. "So. . . tell me about yourself. I already know what brought you to Dallas. I think it's a fascinating story." She grabbed a piece of bread. There was a small bowl of olive oil. Their hands brushed, dipping their bread. "Be careful, the bread is really hot." She quickly removed her hand from his. But not before he felt a slight tingly sensation.

He leaned forward with his arms folded. "My actual name is Nicholas. I was named after my father. Colin is one of the nicknames people use for Nicholas. I learned his family called him Colin when he was young." He grabbed another piece of hot bread. "This is delicious."

"I like the name Colin—it fits you." She examined his face. "Your mother didn't call your father Colin?"

"No," he paused. He studied her face. "Grey revealed that when he called me."

There was a small plate of lemon wedges and a pitcher of ice water that he offered Bianca. She lifted a lemon wedge and squeezed it in her glass. Silence awkwardly hung in the air between them at the table.