You’d promised Marco a nice night out. Just the two of you. No business, no interruptions. But of course, that was easier said than done.

You’d been to the same restaurant a hundred times, but tonight? Tonight, it was different. There was a group in the corner laughing too loud. The waiter looked at you like he was sizing you up, and Marco’s tie—it was just off. You could feel your jaw clenching with each passing minute.

“Is everything okay?” Marco’s voice, steady as always, pulled you out of your thoughts.

You didn’t answer immediately, too busy glaring at the glass of wine in front of you like it had personally wronged you. It wasn’t just the wine though—it was everything. Everything.

Then, with that natural ease of his, Marco took a gentle hold of your tie, his fingers brushing your chest. He didn’t let go, even when your breath caught. You barely noticed he’d adjusted it slightly, but it felt better. More put-together.

His lips were at your ear in a second. “Wanna go for a walk?” he asked softly, his voice low, coaxing.

Before you could say anything, his lips pressed against the crease by your eye—right where a wrinkle started to show. It was soft. Almost tender, but there was something grounding in it too. His thumb grazed your cheek before he pulled back, looking at you with that patient warmth that always seemed to get to you.