"Ginny would be proud," he pointed out, then frowned momentarily as he realized how that sounded. And he had meant his Ginny, not -- well, he supposed the GInny here was his, too, just a younger his his, not -- he shook his head and pasted on a smile. "I don't know much about how they do it but it's on the west side. Hell's Kitchen, I think it's called. I don't know. Too many bloody neighborhoods here in New York to keep track of."
He licked his lips at the idea of caramel and nodded. "That too," he said, stepping out onto the curb and sticking his arm out to hail a cab. One skidded to a stop, and Harry opened the door for Katie then climbed in after her. He told the cabbie where to go then settled back, his shoulder touching hers. "We'll eat the lot of it," he promised.