Page 26 of Relationship Goals

Abigail

The moment thepaparazzi arrive is always marked the same way. People pointing at them, then craning to look at me, their target.

I hate this.

I hate that even though I crave privacy, I have to be nice. Have to be sweet. Hell, I want to give them good pictures, too. It will be good for this little Italian place, good for the paparazzi, good for my career.

“Fucking hell,” Luke says. “We haven’t even gotten to the pasta.” He’s spotted them, too, a look of pure fury on his masculine face.

“Don’t worry about them,” I tell him. “Just ignore them for now, and when we leave, we’ll pose for a few pics and then they’ll leave us alone.”

“How can you be so fucking calm about it? They’re roaches. Leeches.”

My lips twist to the side, and I pop another piece of calamari in my mouth, chewing and swallowing before I answer. “Which is it? Roaches or leeches?”

“Rats,” he says.

“A whole variety of vermin,” I say casually.

He glares at the crowd outside the window.

Sighing, I push back from the table slightly, crossing my arms against my chest. “I’m calm because what else am I going to be? Mad?So they can write awful headlines about what a bitch I am? Please. You know what it’s like.” Two heaping plates of what looks like gnocchi and some kind of seafood linguine arrive, and the waiter murmurs apologies for the paparazzi outside the window. Mateo’s drawing heavy velvet curtains across the windows as a few other tables quietly applaud as the paparazzi disappear from view.

“Thank you,” I say automatically.

Luke waits until the waiter leaves to speak again. “I do know what it’s like, and I don’t put up with that shit.”

My appetite disappears. I don’t like conflict or confrontation, and I sink back into the wooden chair. Teasing? Teasing and being silly I like. All-out arguments, absolutely not.

“Why do you put up with it?” he continues, arching his brows at me.

“Because if I don’t, they win. And besides, they’re just doing their jobs.”

“It’s a fucked-up job,” he says.

“Look,” I say slowly, picking my fork back up and pushing gnocchi around the plate. “I get it. If it’s too much for you, just take me back home.”

“Fine.” He raises a hand and Mateo practically sprints over.

I gape at him. He’s seriously going to call off our date now?

Disappointment sits heavy in my chest. I liked him. I like that he’s not afraid to be his grumpy self. It’s…funny. Refreshing and different andreal.

I ruined our date.

I’m surprised at how upset that makes me.

“Can we get this to go? And some dessert. And a bottle of wine. Do you want anything else?” he asks me. “Since we’re taking this to your house.”

I glance back up at him, a smile kicking up the corners of my mouth. “We are?”

He stares at me like I’ve grown another head. “Yeah, I’m not fucking letting this food go to waste just because some assholes with cameras showed up outside. Or letting my time with you go to waste, either.”

A small laugh trickles out of me, pure pleasure replacing the disappointment.

Luke Wolfe, my own personal dopamine. Who would’ve thought?

“Anything else, Signorina Abigail?” Mateo asks me, signaling to the waiters to wrap the food, which is whisked away nearly immediately.