“We’re good.” Zayne glanced to where his phone sat on the table. It had been lighting up every so often, and I’d wondered who was texting him. He’d responded once. “Actually, we should get the check.” His gaze found its way back to me. “Unless you want dessert?”

“God.” I laughed. “If I did, the next stop will be Nap Town, population me.”

He gave me a lopsided grin. “Just the check, please.”

As the waitress hurried off, I cocked an eyebrow, and Zayne stared at me like he had no idea why I was looking at him. Could he be that oblivious? “What time is it?”

“Almost nine,” he answered.

“What?” I exclaimed. We hadn’t come straight here from the park; we’d gone back to the apartment, because Zayne had needed to run down to the office manager or something, but we’d been here for almost three hours.

Zayne sat back, lifting his shoulder. “Time doesn’t exist when you’re enjoying yourself.”

That was true.

He gave a curt shake of his head. “You know, I lied to you.”

My brows lifted. “About what?”

“Remember when you asked me if I’d ever wanted to be something other than a Warden?” he asked, and I nodded. “I don’t know why I started thinking about that, but I didn’t tell you the truth. I think I lied because I was caught so off guard by the question.”

I remembered that he’d said no one had asked him that before, and I was guessing that even meant Layla. “What was it?”

Zayne nodded. “When I was a kid, I... I wanted to be a doctor.” He turned his head, and I would’ve sworn on my life that his cheeks were pink. “A trauma doctor.”

“A trauma doctor? Wow.” I couldn’t help myself. “That’s a great profession for egotistical personalities.”

He laughed that laugh of his, making me grin like a fool. “Are you calling me an egomaniac?”

“Never,” I teased. “What made you want to be a doctor?”

“I don’t know. Actually, I do.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “Every Saturday morning, my father used to take me to this ice cream shop in the city. It’s one of those old-style parlors that looks like something out of a different era, and it was a tradition that I ended up carrying on with Layla.”

Expecting to feel a familiar surge of jealousy, I was surprised when all I felt was a twinge of sadness. Not because of Layla. Not because that could’ve—should’ve—been me, but because Misha and I had had our little rituals, too.