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CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE: I CAN'T LET GO

SAVANNAH

When I got into the kitchen, everywhere smelt like pasta. "Oh no, baby, you didn't," I pouted, and Roman removed the apron from his neck before flashing me a smile. Where was the man who had cried like a baby a few minutes ago?

"I made something for you to apologise for cancelling our date oday." He passed me the plate of pasta, and I smiled before taking one bite.

My eyes widened, and I took another bite and then another before looking up at him. "Have I ever told you that you are a wonderful cook?" I asked, holding a thumbs up, and he laughed.

"I own a restaurant, Savannah; of course, I can cook." He said the obvious, and I mouthed, "Oh," before the two of us laughed.

He placed a bottle of wine and two glasses on the table. "What's the occasion?" With my mouth full, I asked.

"I have the most beautiful woman in the world in my life; of course, every day calls for a celebration." He was too effective with his words. He made me blush easily, and sometimes I find it hard to bel
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