“Want to split that?” he asks, but I shake my head. “Nope. I’m wooing you, which means I’m paying.” He laughs—the same quick, startled sound as earlier. This time, when I hold my hand out to him, it takes him a couple seconds to slide his fingers through mine, as though he needed to think about it first. He sighs in relief, and squeezes my hand a little tighter. “Wooing,” he repeats.
