ISABELLE
Matt walked me to the table, pulling out my chair with exaggerated formality that made me laugh.
“Such a gentleman,” I teased.
“Only for you,” he said, pressing a kiss to my shoulder before taking his own seat across from me.
The table was set beautifully-white linens, flickering candles, and plates covered with silver domes.
He lifted the first dome, revealing what looked like a beautifully plated appetizer.
“I have no idea what half of this is, " I admitted, picking up my fork.
“Neither do I,” he said with a grin. “But it looks good.”
We ate in comfortable silence for a moment, and then he asked, “What was your favorite birthday? Before this one.”
I thought about it. “Honestly? I don’t really remember having favorite birthdays. They were always just… days. My mom would
