“Clara.”
She reads the message aloud.
“Smooth. You’re not very good at this sneaking thing are you? Where are you two love birds off to?”
I burst out laughing. “You got spotted?”
“Apparently.”
She types quickly.
“We’re official. Not telling anyone yet.”
“Secret relationship already failing,” I say.
“Shut up.”
The bistro in the next town is small and warm and smells like coffee and fresh bread, the kind of place that feels tucked away enough to pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist. Perfect.
We sit by the window, sunlight catching in Freya’s hair, making it look softer somehow. She’s smiling at me again, like she still can’t quite believe this is happening. And honestly… Same. I’m the luckiest guy in the world.
“What?” I ask, leaning back slightly in my chair.
“You in a hat.”
“It’s a disguise.”
“You just look like a famous rugby player trying and failing to hide from paparazzi.”
“Iama rugby player but I’m hiding from gossiping mums.”
She laughs, and fuck, I feel that laugh somewhere deep within me. God, I love that sound.
A waitress comes over and takes our order. Freya goes for something light, a panini and a coffee. I order whatever looks easiest to eat without drawing attention to myself. But somehow, I am drawing attention to myself by keeping the hat on inside. Like an idiot.
Freya notices. “You’re not taking that off, are you?”
“Nope.”
“You look ridiculous.”
“I look discreet.”
“You look like you’re about to rob the place.”
I grin. “Always good to keep people guessing.”
She shakes her head, smiling, then reaches across the table and takes my hand like we’ve done this a hundred times.
“This is fun,” I say, lacing my fingers through hers.
“It really is,” she agrees, her thumb brushing lightly over my knuckles. “But it feels like you’ve taken the reins so far.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. So how about you let me take you on a secret date Saturday?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Freya Collins… are you asking me out?”
