Page 106 of How to Train Your Billionaire

“Hayes.”

I glance over at her. She’s studying me with those sharp green eyes that see everything.

“It’s okay if this isn’t perfect.”

“It should be perfect.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.” The words come out harder than I intended. “I messed up before. I ran away like a coward and hurt you. The least I can do is plan one decent evening.”

Frankie goes quiet. We crawl forward another block.

“You know what I remember about our time in France?” she says finally.

“What?”

“The mistakes. The times things went wrong and we figured it out together.” She shifts in her seat to face me. “Like when you couldn’t work the washing machine. Or when I got seasick and you gave me motion sickness pills.”

“Those weren’t exactly romantic moments.”

“Maybe not. But they were real.”

The GPS announces we’ve arrived at our destination. I look around, confused. We’re in front of a random office building in Midtown.

“Recalculating route,” the GPS chirps helpfully.

Frankie starts laughing.

“This isn’t funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

“I had everything planned.”

“Plans change.”

I pull over and grab my phone, frantically searching for the restaurant’s actual address. Frankie reaches over and gently takes the phone from my hands.

“Hayes.”

“What?”

“Where did you want to take me?”

“There’s this place in Brooklyn. They make gourmet versions of junk food. Mac and cheese burgers, truffle fries, milkshakes with cereal mixed in.”

Her eyes widen. “Seriously?”

“I thought ... I wanted to take you somewhere that felt like you. Not some stuffy place with tiny portions and wines with names we can’t pronounce.”

“You researched junk food restaurants.”

“I may have done some research, yes.”

She’s staring at me like I just told her I built her a rocket ship.

“That’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me.”