For a long second after Christoph and Eline disappeared into the warm glow of Circolo Popolare, Sophia simply stared at the empty space they had left behind.
Her fork rested mid-air. Her brain hummed like it had been unplugged and plugged back in incorrectly.
Matthew cleared his throat. “So,” he said slowly. “Anything I should know?”
Sophia blinked, snapped back into herself, and plastered on a breezy smile. “Nope. Everything is fine. Just me, my genius marketing plans and absolutely no opinions about German men with complicated lives.”
Matthew gave her a look that was fifty percent unconvinced and fifty percent big-brother energy. “Your face says otherwise.”
“My face is gorgeous and neutral,” she declared, stabbing a piece of pasta so aggressively the fork nearly bent. “It expresses
