“Right?”
“So good.”
My wine arrives, I let Chloe sip, and she nods with enthusiasm, so we order her a glass. My brother would have my head. But Chloe is so happy, and I swear she sits up taller, like she’s acting older. It’s adorable.
Our dinners come and again, Chloe’s eyes go wide at her plate of gnocchi. That lasts for an entire five seconds before she’s digging in. We chat about regular life stuff—how her summerwent, her parents, my parents, my work—before she gets what I call her “serious face.” Her eyebrows furrow just slightly. She rolls her lips in a lot, as if she’s thinking about the best time to bring up whatever she’s about to bring up, and she avoids eye contact.
All those things start to happen as I order a second glass of wine, but I know from experience to wait her out. If I push her to talk before she’s ready, she’ll clam up and say nothing. So I sip my wine and watch the pedestrians that stroll along past us as the night begins to fall. Reggie is watching, too, and not for the first time, I’m so glad he’s not a typical yippy Chihuahua mix. He’s happy to people watch, just like his mommy.
“So, can I ask your advice on something?” Chloe finally says.
Here we go.
“Always. What’s up?”
“Well,” she says, then looks off into the distance and sighs. “There’s this guy…”
I manage to keep from saying “Excellent!” and instead shift in my seat so my elbows are on the table and I’m leaning toward her. “Mm-hmm.” I sip and watch her.
“Oh, stop it,” she says with a wave of her hand. “I know you’re thrilled. You don’t have to hide it.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. She knows me as well as I know her, clearly. “Sweetie, I have been waiting for thethere’s this guyline for a good three years now. I can’t help if I’m elated.”
“What if I’d saidthere’s this girl?”
“Just as elated. Duh.”
“Maybe more so?” Her eyes twinkle with mischief.
“Maybe,” I tease back. “But tell me about this guy.”
Listen, I know my niece well. Sometimes, I think I know her better than my brother does because I have a bit of distance in that I don’t live with her or see her every day. This means I can see changes in her expression or her body language more clearlythan if I saw her every day and she was trying to hide something. So now, sitting across from her at a small, round table outside a little café in Rome, I can tell immediately that this is serious. That she’s seriously intothis guy. I am simultaneously thrilled and terrified. Thrilled that she’s experiencing such exciting feelings. Terrifiedthis guywill break her heart.
“His name is Jordan and he’s just so cool.”
“Okay.”
“He plays football, and the team has been practicing the past few weeks at the same time we’ve had tennis practice and, well, we’ve been talking.”
I instantly don’t love that Jordan is a football player, but I catch myself for generalizing before I say it out loud. “Talking is good.”
“We have so much in common.” When she says this, her entire face lights up, and it warms my heart. “He loves video games. We both loveAnimal Crossing—which some guys won’t admit. We playFortnitetogether. We both love scary movies. He wants to go to law school.” She sighs the kind of sigh that can only come from a teenage girl with a crush. “And he’s not just a snack, he’s the whole meal.” She picks up her phone and scrolls for a few seconds before handing it over.
It’s a selfie of Chloe andthis guy, and she’s not kidding. He’s super cute. Tall, sandy blond hair, smiling blue eyes. He’s got his arm around Chloe, who looks absolutely infatuated with him. I have to admit, though, they’re adorable together. Chloe is the all-American girl with honey blond hair, her eyes a stunning green. The two of them together look like models in a professional photo shoot for tooth whitener or sunscreen. Or condoms.
“Wow,” I say. “He’s cute.”
“Right?” She does that sigh again, and I smile at her.
“What do you need advice about?” In my head, I’m shoutingDon’t say sex, don’t say sex, don’t say sex…though if she did, I’d help her in any way I could. I would just cry afterward.
“How do I ask him out?” She frowns and wrinkles her nose at me.
I blink at her several times, then indicate the phone with my eyes. “You mean, you’re not already?” Those selfies sure make them look like they are.
“No. We’re just good friends right now, and I’ve kinda been waiting for him to ask me, but then I started thinking, hey, it’s 2025 and I’m a modern woman. Who saysIcan’t askhimout?”
“Nobody,” I say. “Nobody says that.”
