I laugh. "That's sweet."
He pours for both of us, then sits across from me. For a moment, we just look at each other.
"This is weird," I say.
"Good weird or bad weird?"
"Good weird. We've had sex multiple times, screamed at each other several times. But we've never just... dated."
"Hence tonight. An attempt at normal."
Margareta appears with the first course. Some kind of soup that smells incredible.
"This looks amazing," I tell her.
"Wait until you taste the main course," she says with a smile, then disappears.
The soup is delicious. We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, then Axel speaks.
"Tell me something about yourself I don't know."
"Like what?"
"Anything. Your favorite color. Your first kiss. What you wanted to be when you grew up."
"Okay. Favorite color is teal. First kiss was Tommy Martinez in eighth grade behind the gym. Terrible. All tongue and no technique."
Axel laughs. "Poor Tommy."
"And I wanted to be a dancer. Ballet specifically. Took classes for ten years."
"Why did you stop?"
"Dad said it wasn't practical. That I needed skills I could use in the family business. So I switched to accounting."
"Do you regret it?"
"Sometimes. But I love numbers too. They make sense in a way people don't."
"I get that." He finishes his soup. "My turn?"
"Please."
"Favorite color is navy blue. First kiss was Maria Gonzalez when I was fifteen. Also terrible. We bumped teeth."
I giggle at the image.
"And I wanted to be a chef."
That surprises me. "Really?"
"Really. I loved cooking. Creating something from nothing. The precision of it." He shrugs. "But my father had other plans. Said Santegos don't cook, they command. So here we are."
"Do you ever cook now?"
"Rarely. But sometimes, late at night when I can't sleep, I'll make something. Just for myself."
"You'll have to cook for me sometime."