Page 136 of Lucky Mother Pucker

That giddy feeling swoops through me once more. It hooks behind my heart and expands through my ribcage.

I can’t help the cheesy smile that pulls at my face as I climb into his passenger seat. I close my eyes and inhale the crisp, fresh scent of the flowers.

“These are so pretty,” I say when he hops in the driver’s seat.

“You like them?”

“I love them. Thank you.”

He pulls out onto the street and merges onto the freeway.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going yet?” I ask.

He smiles at the road ahead. “Nope. But I bet you’ll figure it out soon.”

When he takes the exit for downtown and drives by Larimer Square, I gasp. “Wait, are we going to The Cheesecake Factory?” I practically squeal.

He grins at me before pulling into a parking garage. “Yup.”

When he parks, I put the bouquet in the backseat, then hop out and run over to him. I jump-hug him the second he’s out of the car.

“Leo, this is so thoughtful. Thank you,” I whisper.

He wraps his big arms around me, hugging me tight. We break apart, and he grabs my hand. “Come on. Let’s go celebrate your birthday.”

* * *

“We’re definitely ordering mozzarella sticks,” Leo says to me from across the table.

I look up from the menu, unable to hide the giddy smile that’s making my cheeks ache. I can’t believe he planned something so special for me.

I butter a slice of brown bread and take a big bite. I close my eyes, smiling as I chew.

“Good?” Leo asks.

I nod at him and take another bite. “It tastes exactly the same as I remember.”

A comforting feeling washes over me as I gaze around at the overly stylized, maximalist decor. I push the basket over to Leo, but he shakes his head.

“That’s all for you,” he says.

The server comes by and takes our dinner order. Leo requests mozzarella sticks for our appetizer, then asks for a salad with dressing on the side and no cheese, with grilled chicken breast added. I ask for fried Mac and cheese and avocado egg rolls.

“And could we get some more brown bread please?” Leo asks.

The server says no problem and walks off.

“I won’t be able to eat the food I ordered if I eat more bread,” I say to Leo. “Especially if I want to get cheesecake for dessert.”

“Then take it home with you for leftovers.”

The server drops off another bread basket and refills our waters. I let myself have another slice before deciding to save the rest to take home.

“It’s not weird that I’m ordering only appetizers for dinner, right?” I ask.

“Hey.” He reaches across the table and grabs my hand in his. “This is your birthday. And on your birthday, you can order whatever the hell you want.”

That loopy, happy feeling swoops through me once more.