“You?” I ask.
“Lawyer things,” he says. “Permits, insurance, a dull lunch with someone important.” A beat. “I’d rather be here.”
I press my fork into the crust and cut a neat corner. “Flattery will get you everything,” I say, because banter is a muscle memory.
“And I do want everything,” he says, his voice husky.
I feel the ache between my legs.
What are you doing, Olivia? Stop flirting.
“Greens?” he asks, and reaches for the salad.
“Please.”
He serves me first, then himself, and sets the bowl back exactly straight. He’s always precise. I used to think it was about control. Maybe it still is. Maybe it’s also what keeps a hundred moving parts from slipping.
Normal. Stay with normal.
“Caterina texted me,” I say, picking something neutral and true. “She’s still riding the high from the weekend.”
“She earned it.” He takes a bite, chews. “You did too.”
“Team effort.”
“Mm.” He lets it go, not in the mood to argue me into taking credit. I’m grateful.
We eat.The quiet is companionable. My thoughts run, and I keep them in my head. Every so often, we speak about something or other, keeping it simple.
“Bread?” he offers.
“I shouldn’t,” I say, then take it anyway, because it gives my hands something to do besides shake. “Okay, twist my arm.”
He huffs a laugh.
I tear a piece and mop sauce. “This is really good.”
“Good ingredients,” he says. “That’s the secret.”
And before I know it, dinner is over.
He clears when we’re done, and I help despite his insistence that I sit. He sets two espresso cups on the counter, looks at me over the machine.
“Half or whole?”
“None,” I say quickly, and smile to soften it. “If I have any, I’ll be up all night doing spreadsheets in my head.”
“Fair.” He pulls a single for himself, stirs, tastes. “Dessert?”
“I really shouldn’t.”
“Gelato. Pistachio.” He lifts an eyebrow.
“A few bites,” I say, making him smile at my weakness.
He plates two small scoops, brings them to the table, and sits. We trade the same spoon back and forth. It’s intimate without being atest. I let myself enjoy it.
When the last smear melts into the dish, he sets the spoon down. “Stay tonight,” he says, easily.
