“Thank you for dinner,” I tell him. “I hope you enjoy it. They don’t actually serve mozzarella sticks, but I bribed them into making some.” Of course he did. “You’re a monster, puppy.” “Only on your behalf, kitten, even when it gets me in trouble.” Stupid heat in my chest. Stupid butterflies in my stomach. I could have sworn he said we were too old to get in trouble. Yet here we are…
