We both order the lasagna—the cheapest item on the menu—and salads to start. Afterward, we share a slice of cheesecake that could’ve only been made by a deity of some kind.
“You keep moaning like that and I’m going to have to fight this cheesecake.” Warren laughs, watching me tilt my head back with another bite.
“Fight it all you want. I’ll be in the kitchen finding out who made it.” I use the cloth napkin to wipe my lip.He shakes his head as he sets his fork down, leaving me the last piece of cake. “Can I know the next part of the plan now?” I shove the last forkful into my mouth.
The cocky gleam in his eyes shines brighter. “You’ll find out when we get there.” He stands and puts his jacket back on, throwing an impressive amount of cash onto the table. After slipping his wallet into his pocket, he steps around the table and offers a hand to me.
I throw back the last bit of champagne in my glass. I’m not letting it go to waste—it looks expensive. He slips my jacket over my shoulders, and we head outside, waiting for the valet to return our car out front.
“Thank you for dinner.” I kiss him on the back of his hand, still intertwined with mine. He twists our wrists and kisses across my knuckles, and as his hand comes into view, I realise I left a perfect lipstick stain on him. “Sorry.” I lick my thumb and reach to wipe it off.
“Don’t you dare,” he says in that same low tone he used a few weeks prior.
I attempt to calm myself as his car pulls up, shaking off how immeasurably turned on I am by his voice and his willingness to keep my mark on him. My body reacts to things from Warren that I haven’t found sexy before. I have a feeling he could read me the phone book and I’d find something to be aroused by.
We drive for about ten minutes before my curiosity gets the better of me. “Really, where are we going?”
“There.” Warren points to the top of the escarpment where a large platform sits. I’ve never been up there, but I know both Emily and Lane have been there on dates. It’s infamous for parked-car make-out sessions while you overlook the city below. Romantic, sure… but not what I’d expect from Warren. He isn’t one to follow a standard formula. If I’m being honest, I’m kind of disappointed, but I try my best to hide it.
He pulls off onto the dirt lot where one other car is parked—I avoid looking over to see what its occupants are getting up to. I turn to Warren, but he’s already getting out of the car.Oh.He comes around my side and helps me out, then leads us to his trunk.
“I thought this would be fun, but if it’s too cold, we can do something else.” He pulls two golf clubs out of the trunk, a huge container of glow-in-the-dark golf balls, and a backpack.I shouldn’t have doubted him.
We walk over to a clearing where the fence breaks off, and he puts all the supplies down. From the backpack, he pulls out a blanket and places it a few feet back from the edge next to a lantern that he flicks on. He leaves the rest of the backpack’s items inside and drops it to the ground with a noticeable thud.
“Ready?” He lines up two balls, and I nod, my smile so wide my cheeks are beginning to ache.
“Three, two, one…” I say, and we both hit. I yelp as my swing releases.The glowing orbs travel out into the night sky. His, admittedly, farther than mine. They land somewhere in the forest below.
Warren sets us up over and over until the container is empty and he places the last two balls out in front of us.
“Okay, this time… we make a wish,” I say.
“They’re glowing balls, not shooting stars,” he teases.
“Shut up and do this with me.”
He raises his hands and smiles. “Fine, okay, yes. A wish. A joint wish or our own?”
“Our own.”
He nods, then counts us down, “Three, two, one…” We hit and watch as they soar off into the dark.
I put my club down first and sit on the blanket. He remains at the escarpment’s edge, looking out into a pitch-black sky. He drops his club and tucks his hands into his pockets. Since his back is facing me, I can’t see his expression, but his jaw tenses as he looks over the lights of the city.
“Long wish?” I ask when he eventually sits down beside me.
“No, I wanted to lock it in. Felt like I had to know it hit the ground for it to work.” He turns to me. “What did you wish for?” he asks as I scoot closer to him so our hips and legs touch, too close to turn and face one another. We both look ahead at the city below. There’s a reason people come here—it’s breathtaking.
“I made two wishes. I hope that’s allowed,” I say.
“Well, we’d have to ask the golf-ball gods.”
“Tiger Woods?” I ask.
“He might be one,” Warren muses.
I pause before speaking, quieter than before. “I wished that Willow would be happy with me—that I’d be enough for her.”
