Between Then and Now (Hallow’s End #1)

15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

I STOOD OUTSIDE La Rosa Italiana, nervously smoothing out the red fabric of my dress. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, the sleek waves Amelia had expertly styled brushing against my cheek. The soft night breeze played with the hem of my dress, which ended just below my knees, and the high slit revealed a teasing glimpse of my legs. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to steady the flurry of emotions that had been swirling since this afternoon’s tense video call with my parents.

A few hours ago, I’d sent Ivy a panicked text. It had been so long since I’d gone on a first date, and I was suddenly overwhelmed. I was only half-serious when I’d texted: I don’t even have time to get ready! Help! But, within minutes, Ivy and Amelia were at my door, ready to save the day. They had stayed with me until the last minute, fussing over the details, and making sure everything was perfect, before sending me off with hugs .

Now, as I stood outside the restaurant, I could hear their voices in my head, offering encouragement, and boosting my confidence as I paced outside, my heels clicking softly on the cobblestones. The empty street offered me a small mercy. No one was around to witness my nerves getting the best of me.

“You’ve been on dates before,” I muttered to myself, taking a deep breath to steady the flurry of emotions that had taken over. “It’s supposed to be fun. It’s just dinner. Just getting to know someone new.”

But, for some reason, tonight felt different. Maybe it was because Ethan was the first person in a long time who made me feel genuinely excited. Or maybe it was because, for the first time since Sebastian, I was letting my guard down.

I glanced up at the old clocktower, its hands pointing to six o’clock. Ethan was probably inside already, maybe wondering where I was. The confidence I’d felt earlier when we exchanged flirty texts seemed to have evaporated, leaving behind a bundle of nerves.

“It’s just a date, Vinnie,” I whispered again, trying to push away the doubts. Finally, I stopped pacing and took in the mouthwatering scent of garlic, tomatoes, and fresh bread drifting from the restaurant. The aromas stirred my appetite, and reminded me of why I was here. “Just dinner,” I murmured, closing my eyes for a second and letting the warmth of the Italian cuisine wrap around me.

I could do this.

I wanted to do this.

Squaring my shoulders, I pushed open the door to the restaurant, and the warmth hit me first, a welcome contrast to the cool evening air, easing some of the tension in my chest. The place had a charm that made me feel like I’d stumbled upon a secret corner of Italy, with shelves of dusty wine bottles and vintage Italian posters lining the walls. Olive branches, intertwined with fairy lights, hung from the ceiling, casting a romantic glow. The tables were dark wood, each with a flickering candle that bathed the room in a golden light. Couples leaned in close at their tables, speaking in low voices, their laughter mingling with the soft strains of Italian music that played in the background.

I scanned the room, my heart thudding in my chest until my eyes finally landed on Ethan, who was seated at a small corner table, and the sight of him caught my breath. He looked effortlessly handsome in a crisp white shirt, layered with a dark sweater that clung to his broad shoulders. His brown hair was tousled, as if he’d been nervously running his fingers through it, and he kept adjusting his collar, and rolling and unrolling his sweater sleeves.

Seeing him there, a little fidgety and out of sorts, softened something inside me. It was comforting, in a way, to know that I wasn’t the only one feeling nervous, and I watched him glance around the room, his fingers drumming lightly on the table, as if he couldn’t quite sit still.

Then, as if he could sense my gaze on him, his eyes found mine, and the rest of the world seemed to blur at the edges as he broke into the most adorable, bashful smile. It wasn’t the confident grin I was used to. It was sweeter, more vulnerable, as if he was just as eager for this to go well as I was.

That smile did something to me. It felt like a quiet promise, and suddenly, all my lingering nerves melted away as I smiled back, my lips curving into something genuine, something that came from deep within.

I reached the table and Ethan stood up, his smile widening as he stepped closer, his gaze never leaving mine. There was a palpable tension between us, the kind that made my skin tingle and my pulse race. It was the good kind—the kind that spoke of possibilities and new beginnings .

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft and filled with warmth. There was a slight tremor in his tone; a hint of nerves that made my heart skip a beat.

“Hey,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper but, in that single word, I hoped he could hear the excitement.

Ethan stepped around the table with a nervous energy, pulling out my chair with an easy smile that softened the moment as his eyes swept over me in appreciation.

“You look amazing, Vinnie,” he said. “I’m almost regretting not dressing up more.”

“Thanks, Ethan,” I replied, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks as I sat down, smoothing my dress out of habit. “Seriously, you look really good.”

As he returned to his seat, an older-looking waitress approached, her smile broadening as she recognized Ethan. She had auburn hair pulled back into a ponytail; her uniform relaxed—black slacks, a fitted white shirt, and the restaurant’s logo embroidered on the pocket. The name tag read LAURA, and her friendly demeanor felt instantly welcoming.

“Hey, Ethan! Finally out on a date, huh?” she teased, a playful smirk on her face as she glanced between us. Ethan blushed, running a hand through his hair with a sheepish grin.

“Yeah, I guess so,” he admitted, glancing at me.

“Well, it’s about time,” Laura turned her attention to me, her smile warm. “You’re in good company. Can I start you two off with something to drink? First date specials are my favorite to pour.”

I smiled back. “I’ll have a glass of the house red, thanks.”

“Make that two,” Ethan added, still looking a little flustered.

“Coming right up,” Laura said with a wink before heading off, leaving us to exchange a look that was both amused and a little relieved .

Ethan leaned in, still smiling, but with a hint of embarrassment lingering. “Sorry about Laura. She’s been friends with my mom forever, so I’m pretty sure I’ll get the third degree about this later.”

I laughed, the tension between us easing. “Oh, so this date comes with a follow-up interview? No pressure then.”

“Exactly,” he said, chuckling. “I’ll probably get grilled about every detail. It’s like having a whole town full of nosy aunts.”

I grinned. “Well, I’ll make sure to give you a glowing review. Five stars. Would recommend.”

Ethan’s smile widened, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’ll do my best to earn those stars, then.”

His light-heartedness was contagious, and I could feel the awkwardness fading, replaced by an excitement for the evening ahead. The night was young, and it already felt like we were off to a great start. We eased into light conversation about the town and exchanged stories about some of the quirky locals. The conversation flowed easily; his easy-going nature making it hard not to feel relaxed.

“So, what’s next for you?” Ethan asked. “I mean, are you planning to stick around Hallow’s End for a while?”

I smiled, feeling a spark of excitement. “Actually, I’m opening an art gallery here. I just emailed the owner about the lease, and it’s all in motion now.”

Ethan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, his mouth forming a wide grin. “No way! That’s amazing, Vinnie! Where’s the building?”

“It’s that old space on Maple Street,” I replied, the excitement in my voice unmistakable.

Ethan leaned back in his chair, nodding in recognition. “Maple Street? I know that place. You must be renting from Harold. He’s a lovely man, always chatting up everyone at the farmer’s market. That’s a fantastic spot.”

“Yeah, he’s been really helpful so far,” I said, my excitement bubbling up again. “Opening a gallery is a huge deal and, honestly, it’s a bit overwhelming. There’s so much to consider—like renovating the space to fit the vision I have in mind. I need to start with a fresh coat of paint. I’ll probably go for something neutral that makes the artwork stand out. Then there’s the lighting. Gallery lighting is key , and I need to figure out the best way to highlight the pieces without washing them out, or casting weird shadows. I’ll also have to install track lights, or maybe even custom fixtures. And then there’s the layout—making sure there’s enough space for people to move around comfortably, whilst still creating a flow that guides them through the exhibits.”

Ethan listened intently, and it spurred me on. “I’ve got to consider the kind of art I want to showcase, too. Initially, I plan to start with a mix of my own work to get things moving, but my ultimate aim is to showcase local artists and give them a platform. There’s also the business side: setting up a proper website, social media marketing, maybe even collaborating with local influencers to spread the word. And then there’s all the permits and insurance I need to sort out.”

As I spoke, the words tumbled out faster. I shared my ideas for different exhibits, the vibe I wanted the gallery to have, and even the little details like the type of music I imagined playing softly in the background. I barely noticed how animated I’d become, my hands gesturing as I painted a picture of the future in my mind. But then, I caught myself, and a flush of embarrassment crept up my neck. “I’m sorry,” I said, ducking my head slightly. “I’m rambling. I just get so excited about it.”

I winced, suddenly worried that I might’ve overwhelmed him with too much information. What if he found all that boring? The thought made me nervous, and I braced myself for a polite smile or a change of subject. Instead, Ethan reached across the table, gently touching my hand.

“Don’t be sorry, Vinnie,” he said, his voice warm and reassuring. “I think it’s adorable how you light up when you talk about it. Your passion is . . . infectious. It’s rare to see someone so excited about something they love.”

I looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and my heart skipped a beat. Sincerity filled his eyes, and there wasn’t a trace of disinterest or boredom. Instead, he seemed captivated by what I had to say.

“Thanks,” I whispered, a soft smile curving my lips. “It means a lot that you care.”

“Of course I care,” Ethan said, his thumb lightly brushing over my hand. “I want to know everything about you, Vinnie. And I’m here to listen.”

“I’m hoping this gallery can become something special,” I continued, my voice more confident now. “Not just for me, but for the entire community. I want it to be a place where people feel inspired, where they can connect with art in a meaningful way.”

Ethan nodded, his smile broadening. “I can already see it. You’re going to make it something amazing, Vinnie. I have no doubt about that.”

The sincerity in his voice sent a rush through me. It was one thing to have a dream, but to have someone else believe in it, too—it made the dream feel more real, more achievable.

“Thanks,” I said again, squeezing his hand. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

Before either of us could say more, Laura appeared, with a warm smile and a bottle of wine in hand. “Time for a top-up,” she said, topping off our glasses with a smooth, red wine that caught the candlelight. “And here we go—dinner’s served.” With a practiced ease, she set our plates down in front of us.

The smell of the food hit me first, rich and mouthwatering. My fettuccine Alfredo looked like pure comfort on a plate, the creamy sauce clinging to the perfectly cooked pasta, with a generous dusting of fresh Parmesan melting into the top. Across from me, Ethan’s lasagna was a masterpiece of layers—simmering tomato sauce, bubbling cheese, and seasoned meat that begged to be savored.

“This looks amazing,” I said, already twirling some of the pasta around my fork.

“Definitely worth the wait,” he agreed, taking a bite and letting out a contented sigh.

As we started eating, I realized I’d been doing most of the talking and smiled sheepishly at Ethan. “Sorry, I’ve been hogging the conversation. How’s your week been?”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “No need to apologize. I’ve enjoyed hearing about your plans. My week’s been the usual—wrangling a bunch of teenagers and trying to convince them that literature is more exciting than their phones.”

I grinned, amused by the image. “Sounds like quite the challenge. What’s it like, trying to keep their attention?”

“Well, let’s just say it involves a lot of creative tactics. Last week, I promised my class a movie day if they could get through Macbeth without any complaints. And it worked! Mostly because they thought they’d get to watch something like The Lion King . But nope, we watched the 1971 version of Macbeth , and they were not amused,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

I burst out laughing. “Oh, you’re evil! But that’s kind of brilliant.”

He grinned, clearly enjoying my reaction. “You’ve got to keep them on their toes. And hey, by the end, they were grudgingly admitting that it wasn’t as bad as they thought. Victory for Shakespeare.”

I took a sip of wine, still smiling. “I’m sure you make those classes way more interesting than you give yourself credit for.”

Ethan shrugged modestly. “I do what I can. But honestly, the best part of my week is spending time with Lily. She’s been on this wild kick lately where every day she’s something new—last weekend, she was a detective solving the mystery of who ate the last cookie. Spoiler: It was me, but I played along.”

“Did she crack the case?” I asked, grinning at the thought of little Lily playing detective.

“Oh, absolutely,” he said, laughing. “She interrogated me, set up a cookie sting operation, and even tried to get me to confess by threatening to call in reinforcements—her stuffed bear, Mr Fluffles.”

I smiled. “She sounds like a handful, in the best way.”

“She is,” Ethan agreed, his eyes softening as he talked about her. “She’s convinced she’s going to be a famous singer or a detective—or maybe she’ll pull a Hannah Montana and do both. You know, get the best of both worlds.”

I laughed, easily imagining a pint-sized Lily switching between solving mysteries and belting out songs on stage. “That’s pretty ambitious.”

Ethan chuckled. “Yeah, she’s got it all planned out. I’ll just be the older brother tagging along, trying to keep up with her adventures.”

“Lily sounds like so much fun,” I said, charmed by the way he spoke about his sister.

“She really is,” he said, a small, thoughtful smile playing on his lips. There was a brief pause, and I could see him weighing something in his mind before he looked up at me, shyness in his eyes. “Maybe I could introduce you to her sometime, if you’d like? She could use another girl in her life. Plus, it might save me—and my hair—from being experimented on daily,” he added with a playful grin .

I smiled back, touched by the offer. “I’d love that,” I replied softly, the warmth in my chest growing at the thought of meeting someone so important to him.

Ethan’s smile widened. “Great! Just a warning—she’ll probably make you her new favorite person,” he joked, but the sincerity in his tone made the moment feel even more special.

As we continued to chat, Laura returned to clear our plates, a mischievous glint in her eye as she set down a single plate, with a beautifully presented tiramisu upon it, and placed two spoons beside it.

“On the house,” she said with a wink. “Thought you two might enjoy sharing.”

Ethan gave me a playful look. “Guess we’re splitting dessert, then. Hope you don’t mind?”

I grinned, picking up a spoon. “Not at all. As long as you’re okay with me stealing more than my fair share. Tiramisu happens to be my absolute favorite.”

“Mine, too,” he admitted. “And I’m not above fighting for the last bite.”

We both laughed as we dug in, the first bite melting on my tongue with the perfect balance of creamy mascarpone and rich, espresso-soaked ladyfingers. The dessert was light yet indulgent, and sharing it felt unexpectedly intimate.

As we enjoyed the tiramisu, our conversation drifted into playful banter. We swapped stories about our most embarrassing moments—Ethan’s involved leading his students into a restricted area of a museum during a class trip, and mine being about the time I tripped and spilled coffee all over a new piece of artwork I’d just completed.

Ethan laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’d pay good money to see that,” he teased. “Did the artwork survive? ”

“Barely,” I replied, grinning at the memory. “But hey, if you remember, you also survived my coffee-spilling skills. Maybe I’m just adding character to everything I touch.”

He chuckled, nodding in agreement. “So, I’m a walking masterpiece now? I’ll take it.”

As Ethan took the last bite of tiramisu, I found myself captivated by the way he savored it, his eyes closing for a brief moment as he enjoyed the rich, creamy flavor. There was something oddly sensual about the way his lips lingered on the spoon, and I couldn’t help but stare, a surprising heat rising in me.

When his eyes opened and met mine, I glanced away, my heart racing, mortified to be caught staring. I tried to focus on anything else—the flickering candle on the table, the soft hum of conversations around us—but I could still feel his gaze on me.

“You, uh . . . you’ve got a little something,” Ethan murmured, leaning in closer. Before I could react, his thumb gently brushed against my lower lip, wiping away a tiny smudge of chocolate.

The unexpected touch sent a jolt through me, leaving me breathless, and I froze, my skin tingling where he had touched me, the gesture far more intimate than I had anticipated.

Ethan seemed to realize it, too, because he pulled back quickly, his face flushing. “Sorry about that,” he said, looking sheepish. “It’s just a habit. Lily always ends up with chocolate on her face, and I guess I didn’t think.”

I tried to laugh it off, though my voice came out shakier than I intended. “No problem. Thanks.” The air between us felt charged with tension lingering from the brief touch and, for a moment, neither of us said anything.

Ethan cleared his throat, shifting the mood back to something lighter. “So . . . quiz night? ”

“Yeah, let’s do it,” I replied, trying to match his tone and ignore the fluttering in my chest. “Just don’t blame me if we lose.”

Ethan laughed, easing some of the tension between us. “Don’t worry, I’m on a losing streak, anyway. Maybe you’ll be my good luck charm and turn things around.”

I couldn’t help but smile at that. “No pressure, right?”

“None at all,” he grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief.