She tipped her drink toward his. “To things that do.”
He met it with a quiet clink.
Their gazes held for a second too long before Mia looked away, her pulse humming. She took a slow sip, letting the cool bite of the drink anchor her.
This night was already asking more of her than she’d planned to give.
The server returned with their appetizers. He set Mia’s plate down first.
The octopus was sliced neatly, charred enough, arranged over a white bean puree with a drizzle of citrus oil and a scatter of capers.
Mia inhaled. “Oh, that’s done right.”
Caleb smiled. “You can tell already?”
“From here,” she said as she cut a piece and took a bite, closing her eyes for a brief second. “Tender. Smoky. Balanced.” She glanced at his plate.
His carpaccio followed. Paper-thin beef, ruby-red against a white plate, dressed simply with olive oil, lemon, cracked pepper and shaved Parmigiano.
Caleb picked up his fork, tasted it and nodded. “Perfect.”
He cut a bit and handed her his fork. Her brows lifted. “Excellent.”
She returned the favor with a piece of octopus. Their fingers brushed. Brief. Electric.
He chewed and nodded. “I can see why you ordered it.”
She smiled. “Told you.”
Their entrées arrived soon after.
Mia’s tagliatelle glistened, ribbons of pasta coated in truffle butter. Caleb’s steak was perfectly charred.
They ate without talking much. A shared glance here, a smile there.
By the time the plates were cleared, the candle between them had burned low, and the air felt warm and intimate, heavy with unspoken words.
Mia leaned back slightly. “Dessert?”
Caleb smiled. “Definitely.”
The server returned. “Can I interest you in dessert?”
Mia didn’t even look at the menu. “Affogato,” she said. “Table-side.”
The server nodded. “Of course.” And disappeared.
Caleb watched her, amused. “You don’t hesitate.”
She smiled. “Some things don’t need debating.”
His gaze lingered. “I’m starting to see that.”
The affogato arrived: vanilla gelato in a chilled glass, a small silver pot of espresso steaming beside it. The server poured the brew slowly over the gelato, the scent rich and intoxicating.
Mia inhaled. “This never gets old.”
She picked up her spoon, scooped through the melting edges and tasted it.
