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Of course, I forgot my umbrella and got caught in an afternoon spring shower, thus causing my hair to transform from glossy and bouncy to frizzy and sad. And this drink here,” he motioned to a listing on the menu, “says it has amaro in it.
By the time I walked into the Liberty Hotel to meet my date that evening, I was convinced he was going to turn out to be a serial killer. After 30 minutes of fidgeting, compulsively checking my phone, and flirting with the waiter, Antonio walked into the restaurant. I’m pretty sure that amaro means ‘love’ in Italian…
Don’t get me wrong, Vincent and Angela Festino are wonderful genitori.
I miei filled my childhood with hugs, Nutella and Totò Cutugno sing-a-longs in the car.
My parents’ love for me knows no limits, and their love for each other is truly the stuff Lifetime holiday movies are made of. And at the very least, you can tell him about your plan to sneak Simmenthal back into the US.” She had a point.
I was the first to arrive, so I sat at a table and tried not to fidget. Well, a heavier, balder, older version of the Antonio I was expecting walked into the restaurant, leading me to the conclusion that the pictures I had seen online were from 1998. so I’m guessing this drink is sweet, just like me.” He winked; I suppressed a shudder. You might want to try something else.” I tried to say this as amiably as possible, but I’m certain a bit of surly crept into my voice.
My date did not exactly apologize for being late, but rather explained that as an attorney he was often getting stuck at work and this tardiness was an authentic “Antonio experience” and I should “get used to it” if we were going to be together. All I could do was cock my head and stare — unintentionally imitating a cabbage. “No, Danielle, it means ‘love’,” his tone was clipped and left no room for argument, “and that is what I’m going to get to mark our first date.