“Currently,” I said, my eyes sweeping over the spread cluttering the table between us, “this is what their menu has to offer. Various types of wings, potato salad, ribs, fries in different shapes, sizes… and consistencies, apparently. Burgers, of course. I hope you’re not allergic to anything.”
I lifted my gaze back to Eloise, only to find her staring at me as though I had finally lost what little sense she believed I possessed. Her eyes were wide, her mouth slightly parted, outrage and disbelief warring for dominance across her face. She looked at me as if I belonged somewhere far removed from this booth—somewhere polished and controlled.
Which was amusing.
Because this booth, this moment, this version of her unraveling in front of me—this was exactly where I belonged.
A quiet sigh le
