I looked at him.
He looked back at me, completely sincere.
“You know what?” I said. “That makes sense.”
He nodded, pleased that I understood basic civilization.
There were roasted meats, vegetables glazed with herbs and honey, fresh bread still warm enough to make me question every diet I had ever pretended to follow, tiny savory tarts, fruit, cheeses, and desserts so beautiful they looked supervised by Ella’s clipboard.
Owen stayed near me for a full five minutes, making sure I tried the correct things in the correct order.
Caelin watched with amusement.
“You have competition,” I told him.
“With Owen?”
“He has better taste.”
“He chose six desserts.”
“Exactly.”
Owen beamed.
I adored him.
Later, when the plates had been cleared and the champagne had softened the edges of my di
