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“I know.”

“We’re behind.”

“Behind what?”

“The schedule.”

He glanced around at the river, the blanket, and Biscuit asleep against Claire’s leg. “Do you want to leave?”

Claire looked at him. He appeared completely content. “No,” she admitted.

“Then we’re not behind.”

Her hand loosened around the phone. Noah took it from her and slipped it into her bag.

“Hey.”

“You can have it back after lunch.”

“Noah, you cannot confiscate my phone.”

“I just did.”

“This is my day to take care of you.”

“And I’m having a great time.”

Claire searched his face. “Really?”

“Claire.” Noah reached for her hand. “You remembered a diner I mentioned once. You spent an hour pretending to care about antique drawer pulls. You bought me a table I absolutely did not need, and you smuggled turkey to my dog.”

“He looked hungry.”

“He’s always hungry.”

“That sounds like a design flaw.”

Noah smiled. “Today is perfect.”

“We’re only halfway through.”

“I know.”

“And you don’t know what else I planned.”

“I don’t need to.”

Claire glanced at their joined hands.

She had wanted to give him one perfect day.

But Noah wasn’t measuring it by reservations, timing, or whether every detail happened exactly as planned.

He only cared that she had known which details to choose.

“Fine,” she said. “We can stay another fifteen minutes.”

“Thirty.”