Soft music came from somewhere outside their suite. A string quartet played “This is the Night.”
“They’re playing—”
Thad smiled. “Our song.”
“That’s our song?” she asked.
“Why not?” he said, taking a sip of champagne. “It suits us, I think.” He paused. “Unless you don’t like it?”
“No, I love it. I really do. It’s not a song that everyone expects. It makes me think of Angelo.”
“Our song makes you think of Angelo?” Thad’s comical outrage as his eyes flared and he tossed his napkin on the table made her laugh.
“You know what I mean.” She covered her heated cheeks with her palms. “I loved that night at the Italian Village. It was wonderful.”
“I’m glad.” Thad cleared his throat. “And I’m glad you’re here with me. You and Lyra.”
They ate dinner and drank quite a bit of the champagne whi
