Page 38 of Kill for a Kiss

She gestures toward the spread. There’s an array of aged cheeses, thinly sliced cured meats, fruits glistening with freshness, and honey-drizzled nuts arranged to perfection.

Stan grins, nudging me. “What do you think, Elle? Should we take a picture first? Capture the moment?”

Clo nods approvingly. “A photo would be fitting. Thisisa place meant to be remembered.”

Stan pulls out his phone, flipping it open with a practiced flick of his wrist. He angles it toward us.

“Smile,” he says, tilting his head toward mine. The camera clicks.

Stan proudly shows me the picture. The image is a bit blurry, the colors muted under the blazing sun, softened at the edges like a dream already fading.

“Not bad,” he says. “We look kind of iconic, babe.”

I lean in, staring at the screen. Our faces are close together. It’s an imperfect picture, yet somehow enchanting.

“Here, I’ll send it to you,” Stan says, thumbing at his phone. “What’s your number?”

I blink. My number. My phone. A strange unease creeps in. I try to recall the last time I held it, checked a message, or felt its familiar weight in my hand. But nothing comes.

“I—” I hesitate. “I don’t know where my phone is.”

Stan raises a brow. “You don’t know?”

I shake my head. The discomfort builds inside me quietly. Before I can dwell, Clo’s voice cuts through with casual warmth. “I’m sureit’s exactly where you left it.”

Her voice is so sure and reassuring. There’s no reason to question her. “Right,” I murmur. “That makes sense.”

Stan shrugs. “Hey, no worries. I’ll help you find it when we’re back.”

His tone settles the unease for a moment. “Thanks, Stan.”

“Anytime, babe.” He winks, flipping the phone shut with a snap. “Now, let’s see if this wine tastes as fancy as this place looks.”

The venue owner lifts a bottle. “This particular wine was curated to complement the romantic ambience of this venue,” she explains, pouring a rich, ruby-red stream into our glasses. “There are notes of dark cherry and oak, while a hint of spice lingers on the tongue, all meant to mirror a love that lasts.”

Clo nods, clearly pleased. “A perfect pairing. The flavors are meant to settle, much like how a beautiful romance should, smooth yet lingering.”

I hear her, but I’m not fully listening. Beside me, Stan’s already making himself at home with the charcuterie board. He folds a slice of prosciutto and pops it into his mouth, looking completely satisfied. Then he moves on, stacking a cracker with cheese and a fig.

I stare. There’s something disarming about how easily he enjoys things, as though the world isn’t complicated when he’s got something good in front of him.

He catches me looking. “You gonna stare all day, or are you gonna try some?”

“I was just—”

Before I can finish, he lifts a cheese perched on a cracker toward me. “C’mon, Elle. Live a little.”

I glance at Clo. She’s focused on the wine bottle.

I lean in and take the bite. Stan grins. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

The cheese melts on my tongue, tasting rich and salty, much tootasty to resist. Before I can say anything, he’s already offering another. Then the venue owner places two freshly poured glasses of wine in front of us. “Here you are,” she says with a smile, then turns to Clo. “And for you?”

Clo lifts her hand in polite refusal. “Not on an empty stomach,” she says. “But I’m eager to hear what two of my favorite people think of my newest wine.”

Stan raises his glass toward me, eyes dancing. “Well, Elle? Let’s give ‘em our expert opinion.”

The wine glows deep red under the sun. I hesitate for a heartbeat. But Stan’s looking at me with that same challenge in his eyes, daring me to keep up.