Page 72 of Brighter Together

Slowly enough that heat follows it.

“What error?”

“I only brought this.”

“And?”

“And I assumed we’d go somewhere nice.”

“We are.”

I look down at my jeans.

“Tommy.”

“You look gorgeous.”

The words come so easily that I forget what I was going to say.

He looks at me as though there is nothing remotely questionable about my outfit.

As though I could walk into any restaurant in Manchester wearing exactly this and everyone else would be lucky I bothered turning up.

My chest warms.

“You’re biased.”

“Probably.”

At least he admits it.

He holds out his hand.

“Come on.”

I pull on my coat and then slide my hand into his.

His fingers immediately link with mine.

It feels absurdly natural.

“Where are we going?”

“The most exclusive restaurant in Manchester.”

I stop.

“Tommy, I just told you—”

“Trust me,” he says.

“That phrase has got people into a lot of trouble,” I laugh.

“I’m aware.”

“I’m wearing jeans,” I remind him again.

“You’ll fit right in,” he assures me and pulls me towards the stairwell instead of the lifts.