Braelyn's POV
Joey already had a booked table. I stared at his grip, which wasn't as tight as he pulled me towards his table. It was located on a quiet corner of the restaurant.
His table was tucked into a corner near the windows overlooking the balcony garden. A soft breeze blew over the table, with the bustling city beneath us. Sunlight glinted on the glassware.
People were chatting far enough away to feel private.
The moment we sat, Joey leaned forward, his voice still low and calm but his eyes were sharp as if he was trying to read through me.
"So," he said, threading his fingers on the table. "I guess this is where you start to talk," he mentioned. He looked tired but his eyes were still sharp.
"What do you want to talk about?" I acted oblivious. Joey arched a brow at me, a smile gracing his lips.
