Rafael pulled the chair out for her, and Celia sat down gracefully. A chef in a crisp uniform approached their table with a polite smile.
“Good day, sir. Good day, ma’am. What would you like to have?” the chef asked.
Rafael glanced at Celia, silently inviting her to order first. She hesitated, “I... don’t know,” she said, then turned to the chef. “I will just have his regular.”
The chef raised her brows slightly, looking confused. Before she could say anything, Rafael cut in smoothly, “We will eat anything you serve us.
He turned back to Celia, a playful glint in his eyes. “I haven’t eaten here more than twice and that was years ago.”
Celia smiled. “I see, I completely messed up by saying ‘regular,’ then.”
“My baby doesn’t mess up at all.” He leaned closer, his voice lowering. “I saw
