Chapter 40

Alistair’s POV

I nudged her gently as we strolled down the softly lit street. Music drifted to us in distant rhythms, the promise of celebration ahead. Curious, I asked, “How old are you again?”

She bit her lower lip, her eyelashes brushing her cheeks in hesitation. After a beat, she looked up at me and whispered, “Twenty-three.”

I offered a teasing half-smile. “You know ice cream is usually for kids, right?”

She dropped her gaze to the uneven cobblestones beneath our feet. Almost instantly, her cheeks flushed a delicate pink. “I’m not that much older,” she mumbled, glancing up briefly with that confident spark in her eyes. “At twenty-three, a little sugar can’t hurt, can it?”

I cocked an eyebrow, folding my arms. “You’re still an adult.”

She lifted her chin defiantly. “Yes, but I’m not as big as you. You said so yourself—’Why do you have to be so little, wife?’” She quoted me in a playful, high-pitched imitation.

I laughed, soft and