Page 21 of Mistletoe, Mayhem & Mr. Grump
"No, I mean, you have this whole 'weight of the world' thing going on. Like you've seen some stuff," I explain badly.
"I've seen some stuff," he agrees quietly.
"Want to talk about it?" I offer.
"Want to talk about why you burn hot chocolate?" he deflects.
"That's not the same thing," I protest.
"It might be. Emotional trauma manifesting as beverage abuse," he suggests.
"That's not a thing."
"It could be. We should apply for a research grant," he says, almost smiling.
Giuseppe returns with our food—two identical plates of something that might be lasagna or might be a cheese-based life form that's achieved sentience.
"For the lovers!" he announces loud enough for the entire town to hear through the walls. "Made with extra amoré! Extra passion!"
"Is passion an ingredient?" Holden asks me quietly.
"In Giuseppe's kitchen, everything's an ingredient," I whisper back.
"I give you privacy now," Giuseppe says, backing away while making eye contact. "For the romance. The beautiful romance."
"He's still looking at us," Holden observes once Giuseppe is theoretically in the kitchen.
"He's watching through the porthole window," I confirm. "Just ignore him."
"It's hard to ignore someone winking that much. He might be having a medical emergency," Holden says.
I laugh despite myself. "We should probably look more couple-y. He's going to report back to the many committees."
"Right." Holden reaches across the table and takes my hand. "Is this couple-y enough?"
"It's a start," I say, trying to ignore how warm his hand is.
"What about this?" He starts rubbing his thumb across my knuckles.
"That's... very couple-y," I manage, my brain short-circuiting slightly.
"Too much?" he asks.
"No! I mean, it's fine. Good. Very believable," I babble.
"You're terrible at this," he chuckles, but he's still holding my hand.
"I'm out of practice," I defend myself. "The last person I dated seriously thought cryptocurrency was actual coins you could crypt."
"What does that even mean?" he asks.
"I never found out. He also thought Morse Code was Morris's Code, and that Morris was probably a nice guy," I share.
"How long did you date this genius?" Holden asks.
"Six months," I admit shamefully.
"Six months?" He looks genuinely appalled.
