The meal is incredible, and I moan through most of it, eyes closed.
“Are you enjoying it?” she teases. “I can’t tell.”
“Oh, God. It is amazing. I don’t think I ever actually ate food before you came along. Nothing used to ever taste this good.”
She smiles, pleased, but tries to hide it. “That’s because you had an untrained cook who overcooked pasta. I’m just the first person you let into your kitchen who knew what they were doing.”
“Fitting that this is our first meal in the new house,” I say, remembering our first meal in the mansion together.
She pushes her long brown hair over her shoulder and shakes her head. “That feels like it was a thousand years ago.”
“A lot has happened since then,” I say, reaching across the table to grab her hand. She smiles at her, her caramel eyes meltin
