“How could it not taste good with you?” Emily blurts out before she even realizes it.
You pause for a moment, raising an eyebrow in question. “I certainly hope so,” you reply, a small, amused sparkle in your eyes.
Emily lets out a quiet, slightly embarrassed laugh and briefly lowers her gaze to her plate, examining the artfully arranged dish that screams fine dining.
“Besides…” she adds after a moment, twirling her fork between her fingers, “everything probably tastes better than at home.”
Your heart skips a beat as you watch her, a soft rose coloring her cheeks. For a moment, the restaurant fades, and it’s just the two of you, risotto, oregano, and that mischievous, impossible-to-ignore smile.













