"Thanks." Shane's voice was dry. "I tried."
"Don't keep her out too late. She gets cranky when she's tired."
"Zoe," I said, mortified.
"What? It's true."
Shane was grinning when I reached the door. His eyes moved over me, slow and deliberate, and something in his expression shifted—softened.
"You look beautiful," he said. Simple. Direct. Like it was just a fact.
My face went hot. He looked... God, he looked incredible. The button-down fit him perfectly, hinting at the shoulders beneath it, the chest I’d felt pressed against me when he’d steadied me in my kitchen. His jaw was freshly shaved, and I caught the scent of something clean and woodsy that made me want to step closer and breathe him in.
"Thank you. You look... nice."
Nice. He looked like he'd walked out of a magazine, and the best I could manage wasnice.
Shane didn't seem to mind. He offered me his arm. "Ready?"
I took it. His forearm was warm and solid under my fingers.
“Have fun,” Millie called after us. "Take your time. We'll be fine."
"Back by eleven," Zoe added. "And I want details."
They were both grinning at us. That mischievous, knowing grin that made me want to melt into the floor. I shot them a look. Stop it. Millie bit her lip, trying not to laugh. Zoe didn't even try to hide it.
"Okay, bye," I said, pulling Shane toward the elevator.
"Bye, Shane," they called in unison, voices dripping with implication.
The door clicked shut behind us. I could hear them giggling through the wood.
I glanced up at Shane. He was smiling, that easy, devastating smile that did things to my pulse.
I wasn't sure I was going to survive the night.
He took me to a small Italian place a few blocks from my apartment.
It wasn't fancy. Red-checkered tablecloths, candles melted into old wine bottles, the smell of garlic and tomatoes thick in the air. The kind of place you’d walk past a dozen times without noticing, unless you knew to look for it.
The moment we stepped inside, an older woman emerged from behind the counter. She was tiny, barely five feet tall, with silver hair pinned back and flour dusting her apron like it belonged there. Her face lit up when she saw Shane.
"Piccolo!" She grabbed his face with both hands and kissed his cheeks, once, twice, three times. "Too long. Too long since you come see me."
"I know, Rosa. I'm sorry."
"You work too hard. You don't eat enough." She pinched his cheek like he was ten years old. "Skin and bones."
Shane laughed. He was anything but skin and bones, but he didn't argue. "Rosa, this is Maya."
Rosa turned to me. Her eyes were sharp and assessing, but warm underneath. She took my hands in hers.
"Maya." She said my name like she was tasting it. "Beautiful name. Beautiful girl." She looked at Shane, then back at me. “He never brings anyone here," she added, almost accusing.
"Rosa—"
"Never," she repeated, ignoring him. “Almost thirty years I have known this boy, and never once he brought a woman to my restaurant.”
