“No. It’s a cheer-my-gorgeous-boyfriend-up dinner.”
“Your—” I stopped, almost making him trip over his feet. “Boyfriend?”
“Yes. Unless I’ve completely misread the last few days.” He brushed his lips over my ear. “And last night.”
“No. You haven’t misread anything. I’m crazy about you. It’s just…I wasn’t sure either of us wanted to put a label on it.”
Xander pressed an imaginary label to my chest, over my heart. “There. Now you’re my boyfriend. I’ve labelled you and everything.”
I laughed. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe. Are you going to stick a label on me too?”
I copied his action, gently smacking my hand over his heart.
Xander pretended to look at the label. “Aww. You put a heart over theI. You used to do that on birthday and Christmas cards.”
“You remember ridiculous things about me.”
“I remember the cutest things about you,” he corrected. He nudged me, and we started walking again.
“What else do you remember?” I asked.
“You’re amazing at wrapping gifts.”
“I remember you paid me to wrap all your Christmas presents one year.”
Xander chuckled. “I did, didn’t I? Everyone thought they were amazing.”
I nudged his shoulder. “I’d have done it for nothing, you know.”
“Really? I don’t recall you objecting to taking my money. I think you’re trying to change history.”
I kissed his cheek. “Maybe. From now on, I’ll wrap your gifts for nothing.”
“Better.”
We stopped outside a cosy-looking restaurant.
“Here?” Xander asked as we checked out the menu in the window.
The restaurant seemed to primarily sell British food, gastro pub-style.
“They have bangers and mash,” Xander said. “You can’t go wrong with bangers and mash. Oh! And steak and ale pie.”
“The menu looks great.”
“Are you sure? This is meant to be a meal to cheer you up.”
I threaded my fingers through his and squeezed. “You’ve already cheered me up. But yes, I’m sure. The menu looks amazing.”
We went inside and requested a table. It seemed a popular spot, so we had to wait a while before we were seated.
“Did they say anything about the new portfolio?” Xander poured us some water from the carafe on the table.
“The casting director had raised eyebrows while flipping through it, and he asked to keep my comp card.”
“That’s great.”
