The restaurant was tucked between a laundromat and a bookstore. Small. Easy to miss. Red awning faded from sun. The kind of place locals knew about but tourists walked past.
Noah held the door open. Leighton stepped inside. The smell of garlic and tomatoes hit immediately. Warm. Rich. Her stomach growled.
"You weren't kidding about the lighting," she said.
Two dim bulbs hung from the ceiling. Candles on each table barely pushed back the shadows. She could see maybe three feet in front of her.
"Romantic though," Noah said. Then caught himself. "Just atmospheric. For talking. Which is what we're doing."
She smiled. He was nervous. Actually nervous. She'd never seen him nervous before.
The hostess sat them at a corner table. Checkered tablecloth. Wobbling slightly. Noah steadied it with
