“Yeah, just let me grab my wallet.” I bunged it in my pocket with my keys and headed down to the taxi.
Bloody hell. All that tidying up and he hadn’t even come in for a drink. Still, maybe he’d come back later. I tried not to think about that too much, either. These jeans don’t hide anything.
* * * *
The Italian restaurant was small and cozy, with ochre walls and dim lighting that made it feel intimate, somehow. Proper, solid wood tables without cloths. It gave the place a hearty, rustic atmosphere that went well with the food. It smelled great too: garlic and wine, mixed with candle smoke.
“This is really good,” I told Edward, savouring my saltimbocca and remembering too late what Mum had always said about speaking with my mouth full. I had a swig of wine to wash it down. “Sorry. Mann
