Xavier. Lunch—if we’re still calling it that—is long over. I only keep using the word because Audrey did. But the sun’s already sinking behind the skyline, painting the city in a bright gold color. It’s well past 6 p.m. already, and the only thing that’s stopped me from pushing the conversation is her deflection. “It’s bad table manners to talk while eating,” she’d said, eyes lowered, tone too light to be real. I’d just raised a brow at her. Since when did we give a damn about table manners? But I didn’t press. Not yet. I had made lunch, quick but efficient: saffron risotto with scallops, topped with a drizzle of lemon butter and microgreens. Something that tastes like it took hours but really just needed patience. The kind of dish you pair with a glass of chilled Chardonnay and pretend everything is fine. As we ate, Audrey barely touched her wine. After the last bite, she stood, quiet as a breath, and reached for the dishes. I waved her off. “I’ve got it.” She hes
Last Updated : 2025-06-10 Read more