I’m probably getting in the way but if I am, he isn’t saying so. He works around me, flipping the steaks with one hand while I sniff at his hair like a creep.

He turns to kiss me and I smile into it, shifting from behind him so I can cup his face in my hand and kiss him properly, deepening the kiss and licking at the inside of his bottom lip. The warmth in my belly grows, bright but unhurried, and I pull back to nudge our noses together as the meat hisses in the pan.

“Don’t let them burn, pesca,” I tease in a low voice, kissing him again before pulling away entirely and picking up my wine, smiling against the rim of my glass.