Page 13 of Sinful Promises

My day hadn’t just got better—it’d shot straight to my list of best days ever.

The waiter asked us to wait for a moment while he adjusted the table to an angle so Roman and I could sit side by side and see the view, rather than sit across the table from one another.

We sat and I tried to take it all in. Our view. The quaint restaurant. Roman. “This is spectacular.”

“It sure is.” His eyes were on me as he said it, and I just about melted at how they captured me. Roman always made me feel special. Right now, I was royalty.

I had never felt like that. Like I was on top of the world. Invincible.

But there was an underlying sadness in his eyes that’d been on display since the beginning of this tour, and as much as I didn’t want to ruin our beautiful day, I needed to get to the bottom of it.

The waiter topped up our water glasses, draped a white napkin over my leggings, possibly to cover them up, and opened a menu before handing it to me.

The meals were written in Italian. I recognized a few of the words, but most were beyond my translation abilities. Based on the delicious aromas coming from the kitchen, I could probably point at any one of the meals and be confident it would be delicious.

Instead, I folded the menu closed and turned my attention to Roman who was studying the wine menu. “Would you mind ordering for me? I can’t read it.”

“Of course. Let’s start with a wine.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Red or white?”

“White please. Red makes me silly.”

His honey eyes glowed. “Red it is then.”

I playfully slapped his arm. “You’ve already seen me drunk. We don’t need another repeat of it.”

“But it’s fun.” He flashed his spectacular grin and my girly bits started singing.

I squirmed on my seat. “For you maybe.”

“Well, how about a rosé then?”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

The waiter must’ve been watching us because the second Roman placed the wine menu down, he was at our side.

Roman ordered the drink in Italian, and the moment the waiter scurried off, I reached across the table and placed my hand on his arm. “This is so nice. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

I squeezed my fingers and was on the verge of asking the probing question when the waiter returned. He must’ve been on roller skates or something. He was so bloody fast. I glanced around the restaurant. There were nearly as many patrons as there were staff. Their ploy was probably to get people in and out as quickly as they could, so they could keep churning the patrons through the door . . . and the money.

But they had no idea who they were messing with. I was not leaving until I knew what was wrong with Roman.

As the waiter displaying the lovely bottle to Roman removed the top and poured a sample into Roman’s wine glass to taste, I decided that maybe getting Roman drunk would help him loosen up a little.

Lord knew it worked for me.

Roman did his thing with the wine. Swirled it. Sniffed it. And after a taste, confirmed it was up to scratch. The waiter poured our wines and left us in peace.

We raised our glasses and I waited for Roman to make a toast. “Here’s to exploring.”

“Absolutely. I’ll drink to that.”