Chapter 118

LIAM

“Can’t I have something with shrimp?”

I think about it for a long moment, momentarily caught in the scent of her perfume as I lazily flip through the menu. “Can you?”

She thinks about it deeply before shrugging. “Sometimes. It depends.”

That earns a raised brow from me. I tug her impossibly closer, until her head rests on my chest and her voice hums through me when she speaks. Perfect. “Depends on what, exactly?”

She sighs, dramatic. “How fresh it is. How it’s cooked. Whether I’ve had antihistamines. My mood. Whether Mercury’s in retrograde. You know—the usual.”

I chuckle and press a kiss to her hair. “So basically, no shrimp.”

“Basically,” she mutters. She sounds properly mournful. “I’ll just get rice.”

I glance at her. “You want to spend eight hundred dollars on something we can boil in fifteen minutes at home?”

She shivers a little—not from the cold. I smirk wider. She’s easier to read than she thinks.

“You know wha