When we step inside, I can’t help but notice every little detail. The old stone walls, scarred tables, a floor worn smooth by centuries of footsteps. It’s a well-kept place that proudly shows the story it carries.
I feel Alexander stop beside me, like he’s taking it all in the same way I am.
Once we’re seated, I realize that from our table we can see the skittles alley glowing in the background, a scene so old it feels borrowed from another century.
We both order from the waiter’s recommendations. British steak and Malbec pie for Alexander. Freshly battered, line-caught haddock and chips for me.
But it’s hard to focus on the food when everything about this place, from the timbered walls to the amber light, makes me wonder how many lives have unfolded in this room over the centuries. And now... ours is one of them.
Alexander chuckles when he catches me staring.
“You look completely taken by this place.”
“I kind of am,” I admit, smiling as I cut into my fish again. “It’s surreal. I can’t stop thinking about all the stories these walls could tell. It feels like I’ve stepped into one of those historical novels I used to devour years ago.”
He sets his fork aside and rests his hand over mine. “I imagine this place alone deserves a full post on your blog.”
I grin at him, and we spend the rest of dinner wrapped in easy conversation, losing track of the hour completely.
For dessert, we share the Yin & Yang: a white chocolate mousse laced with limoncello, dark chocolate folded into it, the flavors melting together in perfect harmony. One spoonful in, and I already regret not getting my own. But I let him steal the last bite anyway.
We leave the restaurant not long after, laughing, and make the short drive to Regent Road. We park along a well-lit street.
Before I step out of the car, Alexander shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it over my shoulders. “The wind will be colder up there,” he murmurs.
I smile and slip into it, feeling embraced by his scent.
After a short walk, we reach Calton Hill. We pass the Dugald Stewart Monument first, and I tell Alexander everything I learned on my first visit here, that early morning when the Edinburgh sky was just beginning to pale.
He listens intently, his eyes more on me than on the monument.
When we start walking again, his hand finds mine and with it, that rush his touch always brings to my skin.
We reach the top, and Alexander helps me up the final steps of the National Monument. The view from here is... indescribable. Edinburgh at night, every street glowing, the windows looking like small constellations of their own.
“All those reviews saying this is one of the most beautiful night views in the city weren’t exaggerating,” I murmur in awe.
“It might be one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen,” Alexander replies, his voice low and hoarse, not just reaching my ears, but sinking somewhere deeper.
I turn toward him... And realize he isn’t looking at the city at all.
He’s looking at me.
“Alexander...”
He lifts a hand and gently tucks my hair behind my ear, the breeze at the top of the hill leaving loose strands behind.
“Sei bellissima... meravigliosa, divina.Everywhere,”[XLII]he murmurs. “But here, with the city behind you, the stars above you, that look on your face... I think this is the most beautiful I’ve ever seen you since the day I met you.”
I swallow hard, my heartbeat climbing into my throat.
I take a small step toward him, and he doesn’t hesitate. His other hand comes to the small of my back, bringing our bodies closer.
I catch the glint in his amber eyes, turned molten in this light, and I’m caught in them. Unable and unwilling to look away. I let him see in my eyes what my mouth doesn’t dare to say.
And when he understands...
Under the stars, with all of Edinburgh glowing beneath us, Alexander kisses me.
