White tables.
Blue umbrellas.
The smell of seafood drifting through the air.
We sat down at a table overlooking the Mediterranean.
A waiter approached immediately.
Ares switched into smooth French so easily it almost annoyed me. He ordered half the table before I could even look at the menu.
“Grilled sea bass,” he said.
“Truffle fries.”
Then he glanced at me.
“And a sparkling blood orange soda for her.”
“No alcohol,” he added.
The waiter nodded and disappeared.
I raised an eyebrow.
“You always control the menu?”
“Yup.”
I crossed my arms. “That’s rude.”
He leaned back in his chair slightly. “Uh huh.”
When the food arrived, I forgot about arguing. The sea bass was perfect. The fries were fresh. And the soda was actually good.
For once… neither of us was arguing.
He watched the water.
I watched people walking along the promenade.
At one point, the wind blew my hair across my face.
Before I could fix it, Ares casually reached over and brushed it away.
“Your hair is growing like you wanted,” he said, sounding interested.
“I know. Doc gave me some biotin pills.”
Neither of us commented on him brushing my hair away.
After lunch, we walked along the promenade for a few minutes to let our food digest.
Eventually, we headed back to the car.
When I got back inside, something inside me had shifted.
The drive didn’t feel like a punishment anymore.
