"Fine," she said, swinging her bag over her shoulder. "But we’re going to a place I pick. And if I see a single person wearing a sweater tied around their shoulders, I’m leaving."
"Right," she said, straightening up and handing him a soggy mass of napkins. "Perdona si te llamo 'Cayetano,' but I feel like you probably have a sailboat named after your grandmother and a very strong opinion on polo shirts." Perdona Si Te Llamo Cayetano Raquel Tirado Fe...
"I am so, so sorry," Raquel stammered, frantically grabbing napkins. "I was looking at my phone, and I just—" "Fine," she said, swinging her bag over her shoulder
The man looked down at his ruined shoes, then up at her. He had that effortless, slightly tousled hair that looked like it cost a hundred euros to maintain and a smile that suggested he’d never had a bad day in his life. "It’s fine," he said, his voice smooth and maddeningly polite. "They were getting old anyway. All three weeks of them." "Perdona si te llamo 'Cayetano,' but I feel