I stopped at the red light and glanced over. Her blue eyes were already on mine.
“No, Lune. I’ll decide where we’re going. Don’t think.”
The corners of her lips lifted, soft at first, before stretching into a slow, serene smile that curled like a secret between us. The kind of smile she used to give when she was about to hand over control... and love every second of it.
“Yes, sir,” she murmured, loud enough for me to hear over the quiet hum of the heater.
My fingers clenched the wheel tighter.
Fuck.
We pulled into a small pay lot just off the main street. I twisted in my seat to grab my jacket from the back and shrugged it on, then stepped out and walked around to her side. She was already cracking the door open, but I opened it fully and offered my hand.
“It’s around the corner, but parking in the city sucks, so we’re here.”
“It’s fine.” She slid her hand into mine. “It’ll be a nice cooldown.”
“You warm enough?”
“Plenty.”
We walked shoulder to shoulder out of the lot and around the corner, the wind slicing through the alley of buildings and aiming straight for our bones.
“That was a big crowd you had,” I said, nudging her lightly as we passed a gust tunnel.
“Hmm.” She tucked her chin into her scarf, cheeks pink from the cold. “It’s growing.”
Without thinking, I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out a black beanie. “Here,” I said, tugging it over her head gently. A few blonde strands stuck out the sides, wild and windblown.
“I’m not a toddler.”
“You’re a menace when you’re cold. This is damage control.”
She squinted at me. “What exactly areyoucontrolling?”
I tapped the beanie down to cover her ears. “My patience.”
“Wow. You’ve gotten marginally more tolerable.”
“Ha. Well, you’ve gotten more beautiful.”
Luna groaned, yanking the beanie lower over her eyes. “Ugh. Don’t be nice. Be mean to me.”
“Fine.” I bumped her elbow as we reached the door. “You look like a pissed-off bumblebee.”
She snorted. “Thank you. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
The second we walked in, the smell hit me hard—garlic, fresh bread, and tomato sauce that had clearly been simmering all day. I took her up the stairs, where the real magic waited, and gave a little nod to push her forward when she hesitated.
“Downstairs is a Nutella bar and a coffee counter,” I muttered. “Basically, diabetes and a panic attack rolled into one. But up here... ”
We crested the landing, and I held my arm out like I was presenting the gates of heaven.
“This is the Italian food mecca of the Midwest. Every section of the market? It’s a damn restaurant. You want seafood? It’s that way. Pizza’s over there. You want pasta made by some third-generation Nonna flown in from Naples? She’s probably tossing it behind that glass.”
Luna turned in a slow circle, eyes wide. “This is amazing. I can’t believe I’ve never been here.”
“To be fair, I imagine London doesn’t have anything this impressive.” I teased.
