That had been my choice.
When I got into the car, he looked at me.
“Done?”
“Done.”
“How do you feel?”
I thought about it.
“Hungry.”
He smiled.
“That I can fix.”
We went to a diner.
Not a private club.
Not a restaurant with a month-long reservation list.
A diner near the lake where Fiona ordered chocolate chip pancakes at four in the afternoon.
Luca stole one of my fries.
I slapped his hand.
Fiona laughed so hard she nearly dropped her fork.
It was one of the best meals I had eaten in years.
By then, Luca and I had known each other for almost five months.
There had been no moment when he announced that he loved me and orchestral music appeared from nowhere.
It happened in smaller ways.
He learned that I hated coffee that tasted burned.
I learned he woke before five when he was worried.
