Rising and going behind me, he takes the big fork out of my right hand and puts the small fork in myleft. “Like that.”
“Etiquette lesson?” I say with forced casualness, as if I’m not hyper-aware of how close he is, howmy fingers are still tingling from his touch.
He says nothing, only goes back to his seat and sips his wine. I sip mine. Anything to take the edgeoff.
Gavril lifts his cup. “Here’s to your first day as my fiancée.”
I feel a bit dorky lifting my cup to myself, but I do it. I don’t have any quips left this time. Nothing toseparate me from the atmosphere that’s buzzing under my skin. The now.
Our wineglasses clink. We drink deeply. Over the rim of my glass, the way he’s looking at me, like ifI didn’t know any better, I would swear that he genuinely …
“Bathroom,” I mumble,
