Little white candles flickered on the coffee table, and soft jazz floated through the air. Smith’s apartment was spotlessly clean, complete with neat rows of vacuum lines in the carpet. Two wineglasses and a bottle of chilled pinot grigio sat beside a plate holding a single slice of pound cake with fluffy whipped cream.
When Smith had invited me over tonight, I’d told him I had dinner plans with Maggie I didn’t want to break, and so he invited me for dessert instead.
“What’s all this?” My gaze cut over to Smith, who was standing beside the sofa smirking.
He shrugged. “Just a little token to say how much I’ve enjoyed spending time together.”
My real question, the one that I couldn’t voice was—is tonight the night?
is tonight night?After our last conversation, I wasn’t sure if Smith ha
