His arms circled me, and he brought me close for a squeeze.
I could stay like that forever, seared in his heat.
He pulled away first and dipped his head to kiss me. “Ready?”
I loved when he kissed me like that. It was simple and expected, but it felt so domestic, like this was a mature relationship that had continued to blossom after the honeymoon stage. Like this was a real relationship, not a situationship, not something with an expiration date. We hadn’t talked about being that serious, but it felt that way. “Yeah.”
He placed my suitcase in the back then got into the SUV from the other side.
The driver drove away without instructions from Luca.
Luca didn’t make conversation with me, just looked out the window at the people who passed on the sidewalk, who had a smoke in the cafés that lined the street.
Instead of heading to his apartment, we arrived outside a restaurant a few minutes later.
Luca got out first then helped me out before we entered the establishment.
He hadn’t mentioned dinner, but I was always happy to eat, anywhere, anytime.
We got a table in the corner, the place already packed with people for the dinner rush, and Luca didn’t pull out the chair for me, even though it was a nice place.
Not that I minded. He wasn’t the most elegant person, but I liked that about him.
The second the waiter came over, Luca cut him off and ordered a drink for himself and a glass of wine for me. Then we were alone together, just the two of us, surrounded by the loud conversations of those around us.
Luca stared at me across the table, elbows on the surface, tendons popping on the backs of his hands.
Jesus, I couldn’t believe how hot he was. I felt like a goddamn troll in comparison. I knew every woman in that restaurant assumed I was his sister or something.
The waiter returned and placed our drinks in front of us along with a basket of bread, and then he departed.
I broke contact and looked at the menu. “What’s good here?”
“I always get the same thing.”
“Steak?” I said seriously and teasingly at the same time.
He took a drink of his scotch.
“I’m not sure what I’m going to get.” I scanned through the menu, everything looking good. “Maybe the duck.” I set the menu aside. “Come here a lot?”
“It’s my favorite spot. Ever been here?”
“I don’t even know where we are.” It had all happened so fast.
“Chez Georges.”
The name rang a bell. My family and I used to come here when I was younger. “It’s been a while. Bring other girls here?” I asked playfully.
He considered the question. “Maybe once or twice. I can’t really remember.”
I liked how honest he was. He spoke his mind without filter, didn’t care whether he offended me or if he looked like an asshole for not remembering the women he’d brought here. “How have you been?”
“Busy.”
“That’s not an answer, remember?” I teased.
He smiled, but it was slight. “Stressed.”
