The Promise Read Free Page B

it so romantically, she could hardly bring up what she wanted to say. But she just had to. “You’re kidding, right?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThat’s the standard you’re setting for tonight? Our wedding night? Are you forgetting what happened?”
    Jim sighed. “No, but I was hoping you did. Or at least that the memory might have improved in your mind over the years.”
    She shook her head, smiling.
    â€œGuess not,” he said.
    â€œJim, you didn’t even make reservations for a hotel. We wound up spending our first night in that old roadside dive with short sheets and a plastic mattress cover that I kept sticking to.”
    â€œI was nineteen. I was a kid. What did I know? My father should have helped me.”
    â€œRemember, we found out that during the day certain people rented it by the hour?” She laughed.
    Then he laughed and drew her close. “Okay, forget about our first night. Just think about tonight.” He turned them both till they were facing the gorgeous skyline again, his arm now around her shoulder. “Tonight I’m going to wine and dine you at an exquisite Italian restaurant. Real Italian food . . . in Rome. I’ll be wearing my new clothes, which you picked out, and your favorite cologne. And you in that incredible red dress. We’ll take our time, not talk about any of our problems—”
    â€œOr our kids’ problems,” she interjected.
    â€œOr our kids’ problems,” he said. “We’ll eat our gourmet Italian food and drink our drinks slow and easy at a candlelit table. Pleasant music will play in the background.”
    â€œLike the theme song from The Godfather ?” She heard it now in her head.
    â€œOkay, music from The Godfather playing in the background. A waiter with an authentic Italian accent will wait on us hand and foot. We’ll finish up the meal with some fine Italian pastry and sip our cappuccinos. Then we’ll come back here to our room—”
    â€œAnd fall asleep from an overdose of carbs,” she said.
    â€œNo.” He looked at her. “Don’t spoil it. There’s no way I’m falling asleep early tonight. And neither are you.”
    â€œBut if I eat all that food, I’ll—”
    He put his finger across her lips to gently shush her. “You’ll be fine. I talked with the concierge. He said the streets between here and the restaurant are perfectly safe at night. There’ll be a nice breeze outside. So, we’ll walk. Burn off all the carbs. Then when we get back to the room, I have another surprise.”
    â€œWhat is it?”
    â€œWell,” he said, holding both of her hands, “if I tell you, it won’t be a surprise.”

 4 
    A fter a brief wait, the maître d’ sat them at a cozy table not far from the outside wall. The courtyard area just beyond was full, but Marilyn could still see and hear the trickling water flowing down from the fountain. They’d walked around it once before they sat down. Goldfish and little turtles swam over the fountain’s floor, which was covered with shiny coins.
    The restaurant was only two streets away from the hotel. Walking there through the dazzling city lights and sounds, crossing intersections as they dodged small European cars, made her feel like she was walking through a movie scene. Over the past few months, she and Jim had watched a number of old films shot in Italy to help get a sense of what to expect. It had been so much fun.
    But nothing compared to actually being here.
    â€œSo what do you think?” Jim said, reaching for her hand across the table.
    â€œJim, it’s wonderful. I still can’t believe we’re here. I’ve wanted to visit Italy for so many years.”
    â€œI know,” he said. “I’m sorry it’s taken so long.”
    â€œDon’t be. Some people never get to experience something like