She didn’t look up. Just kept ripping pieces of the bread apart.
“Forget it,” she murmured. “I’ve had worse things said to me than being too young and stupid.” I studied her profile. She wasn’t deflecting now. She wasresigned.
My stomach tightened. So fucking tight with guilt.
“I never said you were stupid.”
She gave a small shrug. “Didn’t have to.”
That landed sharper than anything she’d said all night. I didn’t defend myself. I just picked up the fork and twirled another bite of pasta. I held it out toward her.
“Try this.”
“That’s, like, a thousand calories in one bite.”
“So?”
“So I don’t eat like that after seven.”
“It’s past midnight.”
She hesitated. “Still.”
“You said you were starving.”
“Vince.”
“You need to eat,” I didn’t lower it. “Just one bite. Don’t make me mention the mousse.”
She looked at me, unsure for a moment, before she leaned forward. And just like that, she took the bite. She chewed once. Twice. Slower now. And I watched her mouth like I’d been starving for something else entirely.
“Good?”
She swallowed. “So good.”
I smirked. “Told you.”
“You’re impossible.” She rolled her eyes but didn’t move away. Her knee brushed mine under the tray.
“Why didn’t you call me?” My voice dropped slightly.
“What?”
“After the boutique. The shoes. I thought maybe…”
She looked away again. “I figured it was just…” she paused.
Her fingers were still resting lightly on the tray, so I reached out—slow, and traced the back of her hand with mine.
“About the heels,” she murmured.
I held her gaze.
“I just… I wasn’t sure.”
“Wasn’t sure?”
“If it was kindness. If it was a moment.” Her thumb brushed against mine. “I overthought it. Whether to call or message. But it had been weeks.” She looked down again. “I um really didn’t want to bother you.”
