Page 54 of Damián

I look down at his outstretched hand, take a deep breath, and lace my fingers tightly through his.

“Let’s do this.”

The moment we walk in, I completely understand why the Harknetts are obsessed with this place. The bakery is cozy, whimsical, and the exact polar opposite of my houses. There are thousands of books, cozy nooks, and candles everywhere.

It’s so freaking magical that I haven’t even tried the food, and I am already obsessed with this place.

“This bakery is lovely.”

“Right? Best pie in New York,” Damián says, steering me toward a corner booth. “But now, I’m introducing you to the second-best thing here.”

I turn around, expecting to see the owner or a friend, but instead, I see the cutest, fluffiest white cat I’ve ever seen in my life.

“Oh, my God!” I gasp. “Who is this baby creature of my heart?”

“Sarumeown, meet Oliver. Ollie, meet Sarumeown… He’s my favorite of all the cats.”

“Sarumeown? That is the coolest freaking name.”

“And he knows it.”

I reach out to pet the furball just as the front doorbell chimes.

“Ollie?!”

Both Damián and I turn around to see Zara walking in with her golden curly hair messed up by the wind draft, and an outfit that looks like she just left a fashion show to come here.

“Hi.” I wave, unsure of what to do. I’ve never introduced her to a man I was seeing before… much less a man I am fake-seeing.

“So, this is the sexy man—” she says, and I glare at her. “—that I know nothing about.”

Damn you, traitor.

“Damián,” I say, gesturing between them. “This is my ex-best friend, Zara. Zara… this is Damián.”

“A pleasure.” Damián reaches out to shake her hand.

“Oh, I like him,” Zara says to me, without breaking eye contact with him. “He’s got manners.”

Okay, that’s a nice thing to say.

“Big, hot, manners—”

“Okay, let’s go order something,” I say quickly, cutting her off.

“Actually, I already ordered for all of us,” Damián explains, guiding us to a secluded, cozy nook with a Reserved sign on the table.

“You did? When?”

Damián rests his head against mine, leaning down to whisper right next to my ear. “Yesterday, when I told Finni to book us a table.”

My skin shivers at the feeling of his warm breath fanning over my neck.

“Why don’t you guys sit down, and I’ll go get the food for the shadows,” Damián offers.

“Shadows?” Zara asks as we slide into the soft, velvety booth.

“That’s what he calls Silvio and Franco,” I whisper to Zara, and she bursts out laughing.