I leaned closer, the napkin still tight in my hand, as I caught his gaze. “It was an accident. He was drunk and obviously had no idea who I was. He’s been nothing but professional since then. I think he’s more embarrassed over the ordeal than I am.”

“Let’s hope so,” he grunted as the waiter neared our table, carrying our plates of pasta.

One thing I could not complain about with my cross-country move was the food. My mom was a whiz in the kitchen. She could take just about anything and turn it into a casserole, and so far, in my twenty-two years of life, I hadn’t met a casserole I didn’t love.

But moving here, I’d suddenly discovered there was life beyond the casserole.

And, tonight, I was eating one of my new favorites—Italian. Like real slap-your-mama-’cause-it’s-that-good Italian, cooked by legit Italians. Half of the items on the menus I couldn’t pronounce, and the other half, I probably butchered in my attempts.

As my lips bit into those homemade noodles and as I tasted the prosciutto and lemon sauce, I could have sworn I’d died and gone to heaven.

“You okay over there, babe?” Tyler took a sip of wine from across the table.

“Just having a private moment with my pasta. Sorry, you’re not invited,” I explained with a goofy grin slapped across my face.

“So, we’re good?” he asked, reaching out for my hand.

I nodded as the tips of our fingers touched. “Yeah, we’re good.”

But, as we finished our food in silence, part of me wondered, Are we?

Our fight in the restaurant continued to replay in my mind, over and over, for the rest of the evening. It was the type of thing I’d usually talk over with a friend, but considering I had been in short supply of those lately, I instead lay awake in bed, staring at our popcorn ceiling—a travesty to the 1920s craftsmanship of the building—and replayed the conversation in a loop, like a broken record.

Since when had Tyler become so jealous?

Had he always been like this, and I’d simply forgotten?

My mother had warned me that there might be a period of readjustment for the two of us. Being apart for so long, we had established our own lives, separate from each other.

“Finding your way back to each other will either be a fight or the failure of your relationship,” she’d said.