The din of the crowd lowered slightly as the movie started. He uncorked the wine and poured us each a stemless glass of red. “Salud,” he said, raising hisdrink.
I clinked my glass to his and took a sip. His attention was even headier than the wine, and I was glad I’d agreed to come. I didn’t regret a moment of the day, but it would’ve meant even more to know if he was feeling thesame.
“Georgina?”
I licked the underside of my top lip. “Hmm?”
“I asked what you think of thewine.”
“Oh. It’sfine.”
“How does it compare to lastnight’s?”
I wrinkled my nose, wondering if I’d missed something else he’d said. “What?”
He set down his wineglass, looking into it as he worked his jaw back and forth. “Are you still talking toFrank?”
As if the question wasn’t random enough, his use ofFrankoverFrançoisgot my attention. “We haven’t been out again if that’s what youmean.”
“What about . . . staying in?” He peered at me. “I saw the empty wineglasses and Pinot bottle at your apartment this morning. And I haven’t stopped wondering about it allday.”
The way he said it, brows heavy, it was almost as if the thought of Frank spending the night bothered him. “Do you really think I’d invite a date, even a pretend one, upstairs when I’d spent the previous night with someoneelse?”
“Georgina.” He gave me look. “You can’t honestly tell me you still believe we’re on a fakedate.”
My heart skipped. Happiness bubbled up so quickly, I had to stop myself from breaking into a grin. I’d been trying to bury my instinct that this was real, but deep down, I’d known it was. I’d just been clinging to the lie out of fear of the truth. As Neal’s dark cloud crept back over me, my excitement subsided. Some days, our breakup didn’t feel that long ago. Ifeltready to move on, but was I really? I worried it wouldn’t take much for those insecurities to surface—or for me to fall into old habits. I had reasons to be skeptical of Sebastian’s intentions, but I wasn’t. I trusted him. Or was it only that I wanted him enough to ignore red flags as I had in thepast?
“Oh, no,” he said when I didn’t respond. “Youdostill think this is for themagazine.”
“I—”
“There’s no article.” He worked his fingers under the lid of the largest container, then popped it off. “I didn’t want to risk you turning me down. But clever as you are, I would’ve thought you’d have figured it out bynow.”
I watched as he scooped spaghetti and meatballs onto a plastic plate. “I guess I’m still learning how to read you,” Isaid.
“I’m complex. Another one of my qualities. Though I imagine that one falls under frustrating as well.” He served me pasta and salad. “So, now that you know the truth, you know why I’m asking if Frank spent the night. And why I hope to hell that answer is not a fuckingchance.”
“Luciano and I had a sleepover,” I said, secretly awed that he soundedjealous. “I haven’t talked to Frank indays.”
“Good.”
“Good?” Iasked.
“Yes, good. Why haven’t youspoken?”
“I don’t know. Life, I guess.” I took a bite. “This is still warm. How’d you put all thistogether?”
“Even Santa Claus hashelpers.”
Justin. It had to be. He really was a good friend. “Does your elf know this isn’t make-believe?”
“Of course.Lady and the Trampwas his suggestion—I think he’s hoping for a spaghettikiss.”
I blushed, my stomach suddenly full of butterflies that hadn’t been there before. At least not since I’d run into him outside my apartment. Nowthiswas the right moment for a first-date kiss—the setting sun, wine, good conversation. Frank could take a few notes fromSebastian.
“We weren’t really a match,” Isaid.
Sebastian seemed to know instantly that I was talking about Frank. He nodded. “Whynot?”
