“Our first dinner, we had eggplant parmesan. Dotty said it wasn’t a usual meal of yours, but you demanded it.” I hesitate. “Did you… did you know it was my favorite?”
I can’t bring myself to look at him.
But he never lets me hide. He tilts my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze.
“Of course I did. I had Bash run a background check on you. It was very thorough,” he smirks. “He didn’t know I was keeping you here. He was furious when he found out he’d helped.”
I don’t even process that last bit. I’m too caught up with the former part.
“But why?” I whisper. “Why would you go through the trouble? I was just some girl who saw too much.”
He shakes his head. “You were neverjust some girl. From the second I took you, I knew I wasn’t letting you go. And not because of what you saw. You were mine far before I ever said it out loud. I just had to convince you.” A small smile plays on his lips. “I thought starting with your favorite meal might help.”
I let out a snort. “Look how that turned out.”
“It brought us here,” he says softly. “To right now. I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“Not even how difficult I was?”
“Especiallythat. Being a spitfire is what drew me in. The more you fought, the harder I fell.”
My cheeks flush, and I focus on eating. His hand rests on my thigh. Not teasing, not inching higher. Just holding. It’s warm. Grounding.
When we finish eating, he clears his throat.
“Do you want to go to the theater? There’s something I want to put on.”
It’s not a demand; it’s a question. That alone makes me blink.
“Sure…” I say slowly, watching him fidget with his napkin.
He leads me to the theater and sits me beside him. Notonhim. I try to climb into his lap anyway, but he shifts me off. I try not to take it personally, but he senses my hurt.
“I ate too much. I just need a few minutes, then I’ll hold you,” he murmurs, brushing my cheek. “I promise.”
I nod and lean into his side.
“What are we watching?”
“Hush, sweetheart.”
He grabs the remote. The lights dim but not all the way. I can still make him out.
Words appear on the screen:
Once Upon a Time.
“Once upon a time…” he begins.
Except it’s not him. Not live at least.
It’s a recording. Playing through the theater’s speakers.
“A man went out for coffee but never got his drink. Instead, he got the love of his life.”
I freeze.
“Well… not got. Took. He took the love of his life.”
