ISABELLA
Adrian came home exactly when he said he would.
I heard the front door open, the soft thud of his shoes on the hardwood, and my heart did something ridiculous in my chest. I smoothed my linen dress — casual, comfortable, but still… nice. I wanted to look like I’d put in effort, even if it was just dinner at home.
When he stepped into the dining room, he stopped.
The table was set.
Candles lit.
Steam rising from the pot on the counter.
And then his eyes landed on me.
“You cooked?” he asked, sounding almost surprised.
I nodded, suddenly shy. “Just something simple.”
He stepped closer, inhaling. “Penne all’arrabbiata.”
I swallowed. “Your favorite.”
He blinked, and something warm flickered in his eyes. “I haven’t had this in forever.”
“I remember,” I said quietly.
He pul
