Chapter 48

Theodore only gave a boyish shrug, his eyes dancing with mischief. “A friend of mine swears this spot’s the hottest table in town. Figured you deserved something special for a change.” He offered his arm, not a trace of hesitation. “Come on, Dorothy. Do you know how many people would kill for a reservation here? We might as well enjoy it.” I eyed him, easily reading through the layers of charm and intention. It was so like Theodore to think he could wear down my walls with patience, laughter, and expensive dinners. After everything, I couldn’t bring myself to ruin the evening outright. Whatever else we were, we were friends. I couldn’t hurt him for trying. Inside, the restaurant glowed with soft golden candlelight. Gentle music unfurled from a raised platform, Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 21 balancing on the air. The tables were set for two—no big groups, no boisterous laughter, just the sound of couples lost in each other, hands linked, eyes gleaming with private secrets. We sat. Theod