Hesitant. Careful. Like she’s not sure whether she’s walking into a surprise or a problem.
Then she appears at the turn—hair damp, face clean, and wearing the dress I laid out on the bed.
She pauses there, fingers on the banister, looking down at me like I’ve lost my mind.
The dress fits her like it was made for her. Simple. Elegant. Soft at the waist. Not tight anywhere that would make her feel trapped.
Her eyes flick over me.
I’m dressed too.
Button-down. Dark slacks. Watch. No tie.
Her brows knit.
“What is this?” she asks.
“Come here,” I say.
She comes down the rest of the steps slowly, still watching me like I might change the rules mid-stride.
When she reaches the last step, she stops. Her gaze drops to my shirt, then back up.
“Why am I dressed up?”
“Because I want you dressed up,” I say, like it’s obvious.
Her cheeks heat. She looks away.
I hold my hand out.
She stares at it for a beat, then places her hand in mine.
Her fingers are warm. Mine tighten around them.
“Outside,” I say.
She lets me lead her through the back of the house and out onto the patio, where the garden opens up behind the stone.
A table is set under soft lights—white cloth, candles, plates already warmed.
She stops again.
Her eyes go wide.
“Oh my God,” she breathes. “Nico.”
I glance at her.
“Sit,” I tell her.
She does, still looking at everything like she expects it to disappear any minute.
“I wanted to do something special tonight,” he says. “In celebration of your dad, but also, just because. We haven’t had a lot of time alone, so I thought it would be nice to do a full dinner with all the courses tonight. Dress up a little but still keep it casual.”
Her lips curve as she looks into my eyes.
“I love that idea,” she says softly.
