Don't Forget About the Roses

Oh to Be Free

First Day Back at the Rose's

I was finally done with my first treatment, and with any luck, it would be my last. The girls would be back in school soon, so I would miss having them with me.

My time with Ian had been scarce since I had gone into isolation, but I hoped now that I was out we could start right where we'd left off.

I sat up with a jolt as my phone started to buzz. There was a new text from Ian:

My dad wants to meet you. Can you come to dinner tonight?

I quickly typed a reply:

Sure, is it formal?

My phone went bazerk:

Sort of.

Maybe just wear a dress.

I'll pick you up at 7.

I texted back:

Ok, I'll see you then.

Hopping off the bed, I scrambled to find something to wear, finally settling on a navy blue cocktail dress and black leather flats.

. . .

At exactly 7, a limo showed up in front of the Rose's. The driver came and opened my door, closing it again behind me as I sat down next to Ian.

"So, where are we going?"

He smiled, "It's a surprise. "

. . .

After a brief drive by the park, Ian's driver dropped us off in front of the restaurant. Maggiano's. "I love it."

Ian held the door out for me as we walked inside. A hostess escorted us to the table.

Mr. Rosa stood to greet us, first wrapping his son in a big hug, then offering his hand to me. And as I took it, he pulled me into a warm embrace. "So good to finally meet. My Sebastian talks about you often, so it is good to finally put a face to a name."

If he could, I bet Ian would probably be kicking his father under the table. He settled for a withering look instead.

"So Lauren, I hear you have a way with children."

I smiled. "Yes, I love kids."

"Good, good. Shall we eat?" We nodded. "Well then," and the waiter appeared. "I'll have the baked ziti."

"And I'll have the four cheese ravioli with tomato cream sauce."

"I'll do the spaghetti and meatballs."

"Ok, coming right up."

. . .

When our waiter brought out the food, my mouth started to water. Hospital food had really taken a toll on my sanity. Yum!

Mr. Rosa raised his knife and fork in his hands. He smiled "Let's eat."

The food was amazing. By the last noodle, I didn't think I could eat another bite.

And the waiter showed up, right on que. "Can I get you anything for dessert?"

"Oh no, I don't think I could--"

"We'll have the tiramisu," Ian told the man. "And three espressos."

The cake was brought at once, along with our espressos and three spoons. "It's best if you have them both together," Ian said. I nodded, bringing the cup slowly to my mouth, then took a small bite. Ahh. The thick cream and sharp taste of espresso exploded in my mouth.

"Oh my God, that's amazing."

Ian laughed. "Of course it is. It's Italian."

. . .

The rest of the night was amazing. After dinner, Ian took me for a walk in the park. Our park, as I'd come to think of it. Then at 9, he dropped me off back at the Rose's.

In one of the many spare rooms--the one the Rose's had given me for to stay when I first came there--I was in bed by 9:15. I lay on top of the creased coverlet, on top of the tucked blanket, and the crisp sheets. I was asleep before 9:30.