Kayla
When I came back downstairs, I was wearing a simple white linen sundress I’d found in the room. It was light, airy, and much better for the Miami heat.
Damien had set the table on the balcony. He had made a simple shrimp linguine with garlic and lemon. The steam rose from the plates, smelling incredible. We sat across from each other as the sun began to dip below the horizon, turning the sky into a bruised purple and gold.
"I could get used to this," I said, taking my first bite. My eyes widened. "Okay, fine. You win. This is actually better than the restaurant we went to last week."
"I told you," he said, leaning back in his chair. He looked completely relaxed, the top button of his shirt undone. "Cooking is just math and timing. If you can build a skyscraper, you can make pasta
