Luca's POV
I booked the restaurant at four.
A place on the west side I'd been to twice before. Small, well-lit without being bright, the kind of room where the food was serious, and the tables were far enough apart that a conversation stayed private. I knew the maître d'. He gave me the corner table without being asked.
I got home at five.
Showered. Changed. Stood in front of the mirror for approximately thirty seconds before deciding and not second-guessing it.
I was not a second-guessed man.
Except tonight, I checked my phone twice before leaving to make sure she hadn't messaged. She hadn't. Which meant she was still coming. Which I already knew because Maya said what she meant and meant what she said and okay meant okay.
I still checked.
I picked her up at six fifty.
She opened
