"Still, I should have been honest," she insists.
"And I should have asked, should have cared enough to look deeper." I touch her face reverently. "I'm sorry too. For not coming when you texted me. For waiting three hours before even checking on you. For failing to protect you when you needed me most. I’ll never forgive myself for that. Never."
"You eliminated the Benedettis," she points out.
"Only because I couldn't stand the thought of them still being out there, still being a threat to you." I hold her closer, needing her to understand. "I love you, Liana. And I'm going to spend the rest of my life making sure you know it."
"I’ll hold you to that," she says with a satisfied smile.
We sit there in the foggy car, wrapped around each other and content to exist in this perfect moment, but eventually reality intrudes.
"We should probably get dressed," I say reluctantly.
"Probably," she agrees, but neither of us moves immediately.
"Your father is going to kill me," I observe.
"My father gave you permission to pursue me," she reminds me with amusement. "This is pursuing."
"This is definitely more than pursuing," I say, and she laughs in response.
"He'll get over it," she assures me.
We finally get dressed, awkward in the cramped space of the front seat, laughing when we bump heads and when her elbow hits my ribs and when we can't find her other shoe. It's imperfect and messy and absolutely perfect.
When we're finally presentable, I adjust my seat back to the driving position while Liana fastens her seatbelt, her hair a mess and her dress rumpled, looking thoroughly satisfied.
I drive back toward the city, slower this time, taking the long way because I'm not ready for this night to end.
"Dinner tomorrow night at my place?" I ask, already planning our next date.
"Yes, where we can actually talk," she agrees.
"I'll pick you up at seven," I promise.
"Seven," she confirms, leaning against my shoulder comfortably. "And Santino?"
"Yes?" I glance over at her.
"Thank you. For the gifts, and for the framed lettuce photo."
I laugh at the memory. "You liked that?"
"I loved it," she says. "It was perfect."
"I have more ideas," I tell her, my mind already spinning with possibilities. "For dates, for surprises, for making you smile."
“Do you have a bed?” she asks. “A bed would make me smile.”
“I thought you liked making out in my car?”
“Oh, I do, but you’re not the only one with ideas,” she teases.
I pull up to the Costa estate, and I walk her to the door like a gentleman, even though we're both still rumpled from the car and anyone with eyes would know exactly what we've been doing.
"Goodnight, Liana," I say, not wanting to let her go.
"Goodnight, Santino." She kisses me, soft and sweet and full of promise. "I love you."
