Drake once told me that Case values honesty more than anything else, so I travel that path. “Fish is my last resort meal.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, he lifts a brow. “Your last resort meal?”
“If there was nothing other than fish to eat and I was starving…” I stress the last word with a pat of my hand on my stomach. “I’d eat fish.”
“But you were willing to eat sushi tonight?”
“For you, I would,” I blurt out without thinking.
His gaze lingers on my face. “What are you in the mood for, Emma?”
Sticking with the honesty policy, I point at a restaurant across the street. “Pizza.”
His hands drop to his hips. “I’m in. Pizza and a bottle of red wine sounds like the perfect meal to me.”
“If this pizzaexisted before I left Manhattan seven years ago, I was seriously missing out.” Case swallows the last bite of food on the table.
After sharing a salad, we opted for a large simple pie with red sauce, shredded basil, and fresh mozzarella.
“It was delicious.” I slip my coat off and rest it against the chair back. “I think I ate too much today.”
Case’s gaze flits over the front of my blouse. “You look flushed.”
I always look that way when I drink wine.
The evidence of that is on my face now. It’s probably there when I drink a martini too, but I feel it now. I push my hair back over my shoulder to try to cool down.
“I’ve been eating Italian all day.” I laugh. “And cupcakes.”
He takes a sip from his wine glass. “I need more details. Let’s start with breakfast.”
“That’s a complicated subject.” I avoid eye contact as I go on, “I’m a very picky eater when it comes to breakfast.”
Studying me, he runs his index finger over his bottom lip. “Picky in what sense?”
In the sense that I eat the same thing for breakfast almost every morning.
My life changed when I stumbled on Bright Bagels. The Bright brothers run a food truck in Seattle. One Saturday morning when I was out for a walk, I spotted the truck and ordered a plain bagel. It was utter perfection.
“I eat a certain type of bagel with cream cheese, a side of fresh berries, and a coffee with one cream and one sugar.”
“What type of bagel?” he asks with a curious lift of his brow. “Poppy seed?”
I make a face. “No.”
He taps his index finger on his forehead. “Note taken that Emma Owens finds poppy seed bagels disgusting.”
“My go-to is a plain bagel from the Bright Bagels food truck back home.” I cross my arms over my chest. “They’re next level.”
“New York is full of great bagel shops,” he says. “You’ll find something close here.”
“I haven’t yet.” I shake my head. “Drake and I did a bagel hunt during my last visit. We tried four different shops. Nothing compared to Bright Bagels.”
His finger hits the center of his forehead again. “Emma Owens is a hard ass when it comes to breakfast.”
I laugh. “Call it what you will.”
“I always call it as I see it.” A smile plays on his lips. “Tell me about lunch.”
