I kissed his forehead and said, “I’m glad you liked it.”
A few moments later, the restaurant’s owner brought us a white paper bag with our desserts, along with my card and the receipt. He was a short, round man in his seventies, and he exclaimed, in his thick Brooklyn accent, “Dylan, my man! I saw your name on the bill and had to come say hello. Tell me, how’s your lovely mother and the rest of your family?”
The last time I’d been here, I’d brought my parents and sister and her family to celebrate my mom’s birthday. “They’re all doing great, Mr. Antonelli. Thanks for asking.”
“Wonderful, wonderful. And who do we have here?”
“Gino Antonelli, please meet my date, Lark Genardi.”
I’d never brought a date here before, and it was nice to see Mr. Antonelli didn’t flinch at finding out I was gay. He was all smiles as he shook Lark’s hand and exclaimed, “Genardi, an Italian boy! I always knew Dylan had good taste. Tell me, son, how was your dinner?”
Lark was perfectly sincere when he told him, “It was the best meal I ever ate, sir.”
Gino puffed up with pride, but he tried to act modest by saying, “Oh now, I appreciate the compliment, but I bet your mama or granny’s cooking could give me a run for my money.”
“No, sir,” Lark said. “I grew up on mac and cheese in a box, not gourmet stuff like this.”
Gino still had a hold of his hand, and he patted the back of it before he finally let go. “Well, you come back any time you like, you hear? There’s plenty more where that came from, and a skinny little thing like you needs all the good food he can get.” He turned to me and added, “It was great to see you, Dylan. Be sure to bring your boyfriend back soon. By the way, I comped your desserts, a little something from me to you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Antonelli,” I said, “but you didn’t have to do that.”
He waved his hand dismissively. “For a brave firefighter like you, putting your life on the line to save others? Least I could do.”
After Gino went back to the kitchen, I pocketed my card and added a huge tip to the bill. Then I asked Lark, “All set?” He nodded, so we both slid out of the booth, and he picked up the bag holding our desserts and clutched it with both hands, like he was afraid to drop it.
We’d left my truck in my building’s parking garage and walked the two blocks to the restaurant, and on the walk back Lark asked, “Does that happen a lot?”
“Which part?”
“People giving you things for being a firefighter.”
“Yes and no. It’s not like I usually announce it or wear my uniform when I go out to dinner. The only reason Gino knows is because my mom told him. But people do bring us things at the firehouse occasionally.”
“Like what?”
“Cookies and muffins are most common. There’s a little old lady who brings us flowers from her backyard every spring, which is very sweet. The best one, though, was when this incredibly cute guy brought us rainbow cupcakes with lots of festive sprinkles. My pee was kind of purple after I ate one, but it was worth it because the cupcake was delicious.”
“Do you mean me?”
I grinned at him and said, “Yes, Lark. I mean you.”
He grinned, too. “I told you I used too much food coloring.”
“I’m not complaining. The purple pee was kind of a bonus.” That made him laugh.
When we reached my building, I said, “I’m going to run up and put the desserts in the refrigerator. Want to come with me, or wait in the lobby?”
“I’ll come along. Just keep me away from the couch. I’m feeling super lazy after eating all that food, and if I sit down it’s game over.”
Once we boarded the elevator, Lark asked, “Did you ever bring your husband to that restaurant?”
The question caught me off guard. “No. I moved to this neighborhood and discovered Antonelli’s after he died.” I glanced at him and said, “Why do you ask?”
“I was just curious.” There was more on his mind though, and as I unlocked my door and we went inside, he asked, “Do I look like him?”
“Like Travis?” When he nodded, I told him, “Not even a little. He was six-two, Black, and built like I am.”
Lark grinned a little. “So, you basically married yourself.”