We ordered takeout from that Italian place we always went to, the same one where we’d had our first “real” dinner together after the contract marriage turned into… whatever this is. Love. Partnership. Something neither of us expected. We ate by candlelight in the dining room, looking out at the Manhattan skyline we might never see again from this angle.
“Remember our first dinner here?” Adrian asked, twirling his fork through the pasta like he was memorizing the motion.
“You mean when you were still pretending marrying me was strictly business?”
“And you were still pretending you could hate me for a whole year without breaking character.”
I laughed, soft but a little sad. “God, we had no idea what we were signing up for.”
“Not a clue. If someone had told me that night I’d be sitting h
