9. The Dinner Date

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"So..." I trailed awkwardly to break the tension surrounding him, leaning against the wall with my hands stuffed in my armpits. "What do you want to do for dinner?"

"Oh," He planted his feet on the floor and turned to face me fully, moving his laptop off of him and folding his arms in his lap. "Uh, well-"

Quickly I added, "If you'd rather eat alone it's fine by me. I was thinking of grabbing pizza at John's."

Ethan nodded in response, saying, "Sounds good."

"Cool," I nodded back. "You ready or...?"

"Let me grab my things," he stood, collected his things and headed to his room.

Less than two minutes later we headed out of the apartment together, walking side by side. Though this time wasn't like earlier. There wasn't the blind determination and need to impress like this morning. Right now we were two people who used to know one another going out to dinner in a spectacular converted synagogue.

***

For anyone who doesn't know John's, it's a local family-style pizza joint. There's three restaurants around the city and the Times Square location is by far the best. Every time I have a hot minute to spare I try to go - the stained glass and craftsmanship of the building is everything! But you don't want to hear about that... and neither did Ethan when I tried to fill the silence during our walk with all the reasons to love this place. For some reason he preferred to barge and weave in silence.

Whatever.

Lucky enough he was more chatty once we were seated.

Our table was in the mezzanine with not much of a view besides the stone staircase in the corner and the large dome towering above. The dim lighting complimented the deep wooden table and beige upholstered seating.

We ordered. And without the menu to keep our attention, I tried my hand at conversation once more.

"Be honest, how did we do?"

Looking me in the eyes, ones that mirrored mine, showed such confidence and pride as he said his next words;

"You handled it well, Becca." There was a tug at the corners of his mouth that pulled at my own. I was about to get a rare Ramsey smile - one I've been devoid of for far too long.

"Dare I even say, like a natural."

I got to revel in the small compliment for a few moments as the server brought over our food - garlic knots, small veggie pizza, and a chef's side salad.

"I didn't stutter too much or come off too young?" I couldn't help but ask when it was just us two again. His opinion matters more than anyone else's when it comes to my career.

"You did."

"But you -"

He cut me off, a slight shake of his big head, "You are young and this was your first keynote." he clarified. And once more he said pridefully, "You did well."

After what felt like ages we shared a private smile. How he was able to bring me back into myself with a few words and stop fussing over imposter syndrome is a wonder.

"Now eat some pizza and be happy."

My smile grew to a goofy one by the way he was looking at me, bemused. I refrained from sticking my tongue out and dug into a little slice of heaven. "Don't have to tell me twice."

We dug in. Letting the flavors dance over my taste buds and make me only as happy as a New York slice could make me. No amount of fantastic sex could compare to pizza . Everything kind of disappeared - time stopped while the first bites settled in my tummy. Even Ethan looked to be enjoying it even though it's not fancy smancy and artery clogging.

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