Gabriel’s lips come to the top of my head. “Time to go,” he whispers.
I nod, and the two of us sneak from the room like thieves in the night.
I bite into the braised lamb shank ravioli and my eyes roll to the back of my head. “Oh my God,” Igroan. “I want to marry this pasta.”
Gabriel takes a sip of his Malbec, eyes glimmering with laughter. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”
“I’m not just enjoying it; I’m composing love ballads to it.” The succulent flavors melt in my mouthand it’s everything I can do not to scoff the whole bowl down in one bite.
I have never been to a restaurant this fancy, and at first I was skeptical that it would be any better thana good old-fashioned diner, but I was wrong. The salami and fig crostini appetizer made me see God,and the sommelier’s suggested pairing of
