“I have no idea what that is, but I'm confident I've endured worse interrogation techniques.”
“Fine.” She crosses her arms. “I'll tell everyone at the bar you listen to boy bands.”
I raise an eyebrow at her cute littlethreats.
I laugh and shake my head. “Five more minutes. Then you'll see.”
She settles back, a smile playing on her lips that suggests she's pleased to have made me laugh. We drive in comfortable silence until I turn onto a dirt road barely visible from the main highway.
“If this leads to a cabin in the woods, I'm jumping out of the car,” she warns playfully.
“It's not a cabin,” I say, finally pulling to a stop on a flat expanse of rocky ground. Beyond the car, the earth drops away in a steep cliff, offering a panoramic view of the city lights sprawling below.
I grab our food and help Lilibeth out of the car. We walk up to a safe distance from the edge of the cliff, and Lilibeth, for the first time tonight, is speechless.
“It's beautiful,” she whispers, then turns to me with a small smile.
I’ll admit I’d been a little nervous. From how she’s dressed up, I know she was expecting a fancy dinner. For a while , I considered dropping this idea of a picnic under the stars. But something about this place makes it feel so perfect, so mine, as though the entire city belongs to me, and I couldn’t think of a better place to bring her.
“You like?” I ask.
“I love.” She nods, her eyes darting back to the dazzling lights below.
I leave her there to enjoy the view, head back to the car, and retrieve a blanket from the trunk, along with a bottle of wine. I set up our little spot near the edge—not too close—and Lilibeth joins me, planting herself on the blanket beside me.
Without being asked, she begins to help with the unpacking. I pull out the cartons of food, and she opens the wine. I pull out the cutlery, and she brings out some napkins and the dipping sauces.
“This is way better than some stuffy restaurant,” she declares, sitting cross-legged on the blanket with childlike enthusiasm after we’ve laid out our spread before us. “I can'tbelieve your idea of a date is a secret picnic spot. You're full of surprises.”
“Good ones, I hope.”
“The best kind.” She opens a container of kung pao chicken and inhales deeply. “So, how did you find this place?”
I hesitate right out of instinct. Usually, when people wander into personal territory, I keep them at bay. But this is Lilibeth. She’s sunshine and light, and her genuine questions deserve honest answers. “My father used to bring me here when I was young. Before... he passed. It was here that he talked about his work, prepared me for life.”
She nods, and I notice a sad expression on her face. “I miss my parents too,” she murmurs. We speak a little about how our parents passed, how difficult it was, how lucky we were to be so loved, and then fall into comfortable silence.
“How are you settling in at the bar?” I ask, changing the subject, leaning in to refill her wine.
Her face lights up as she takes the glass. “I love it! Your staff was skeptical at first—I think they thought you were only entertaining me as your wife. But I've won most of them over.” She launches into a story about how she fixed the ancient espresso machine that no one else could figure out.
I listen, fascinated by her passion, the way her hands gesture expressively as she talks. She's been working at my bar for two weeks now, and according to Faddey’s reports, she's completely revamped our records.
“Thank you,” she says suddenly, her voice softer. “For giving me a chance. I know I probably made you feel obligated, but—”
“I don't do anything out of obligation,” I interrupt. “You earned your place.”
Her smile could outshine the city below us. “Still. I'm grateful.”
We eat and talk as the night deepens around us. She asks about my brothers and sister, and I find myself sharing stories from our childhood that I haven't told in years. She tells me about growing up with her own brothers, about Lion's overprotectiveness and Benedikt's terrible cooking.
I've taken women to five-star restaurants and bought them jewelry worth tens of thousands, but I've never seen appreciation as genuine as Lilibeth's over Chinese takeout and city lights. Her joy is infectious, and her excitement is childlike at the simplest things. She’s only twenty-four to my thirty-seven years of existence, yet I find myself wanting to learn from her about the delights of finding joy in life's simple pleasures.
She melts me into comfort, easing and coaxing answers out of me that I never thought I’d be comfortable sharing. We’re just about to start opening the fortune cookies when the first drops of rain catch us by surprise.
“Oh dear,” Lilibeth mutters, looking skyward. And then, withinseconds,it starts to pour.
Lilibeth scrambles to begin packing up, but I stop her by catching her wrist. “Leave it,” I say loudly to be heard over the rain. I want her out of here before she catches a cold.
