She smiled back, but something tight pinched behind her ribs.Live your own life.He said it like freedom fit in a carry-on. Still, for a fleeting second, she let herself imagine it: a small flat somewhere, coffee rings on textbooks, a job no one cared enough about to have opinions. Maybe even a Nate.
The thought burst like a soap bubble. “Maybe. Anyway, weren’t you flying home? Where to?”
“LA these days. But I grew up near Detroit.”
“It was a lot.” He leaned forward in his chair, fork twirling absently. “Dad ran off when I was a kid, so they took it upon themselves to parent me. Which meant getting bossed around by a rotating committee of idiots.”
Allegra winced in sympathy. “Yikes.”
“Yeah.” He smiled, not bitter, just thoughtful. “But they meant well. Mostly. What about you? Big family?”
“A younger sister. Clara.” She beamed at the name—it came easily, even here. “She’s the smart one.”
“And you’re what, the charming one?”
“Obviously,” she said, rolling her eyes even as her stomach did an undignified little somersault at the compliment. “We’re very well-balanced.”
“And you made it sound like your folks are pretty strict.”
“Oh.” Allegra’s fork clattered against the plate. “Yeah, you could say that.”
“What do they do?”
“Uh.” Her mind scrambled for something plausible. “Banking,” she said finally. “And, um, tax stuff.”
Nate made a face. “Oof. Fun.”
“Oh, it’s a laugh a minute,” she said, grabbing a napkin and dabbing her mouth to hide a blush.
“Guess that explains why you’re so good with rules,” he teased. “Like this whole fondue—”
CRASH!
A glass shattered directly behind them, the sound knifing through Allegra’s skull. She flinched, hissing as she slapped a hand to her temple.
Nate’s mouth curved. “I’ll take that as a yes to ‘carried on late last night’?”
“Something like that,” she mumbled.
“And the guy you were—” he began, but she shut it down before he could finish.
“No one. Just some random bar acquaintance.”
Nate studied her for a second, then shrugged, skewering his bread with a fork and waving it above the pot. “Okay.”
Then plop. His chunk of bread slid off and disappeared into the molten yellow.
She gasped, hand flying to her chest. “Oh no.”
“What?”
“You dropped your bread. You know what that means, right?”
“I’m guessing it’s not ‘congratulations, you win a prize’?”
She shook her head, dead serious. “You have to go in the lake now. It’s the law.”
“The law,” he repeated, brow arching. “Like ‘jail time if I don’t’ law?”
