For one impossible second, I felt like I'd stepped back into my childhood.
"This..." I whispered to myself. "...can't be real."
Knox had already chosen a booth near the large front window, the same corner booth we seemed to keep ending up in.
I slid into the seat opposite him, still looking around in disbelief. A minute later, a man approached our table carrying an old-fashioned notepad and pen instead of a tablet. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, wearing a black apron dusted with flour.
His smile was warm.
"Good evening. Welcome to Antonio's. I'm Gabriel, the chef. I'll be taking your order tonight."
He smiled politely.
I stared.
Something about him... He looked familiar. Very familiar. Then it clicked.
"...Gabriel!"
His eyebrows lifted. "You know me, Miss?"
"Oh my God..."
