He sat back, a hand over his stomach. "Oh god, forty shots would kill me," he said, wide-eyed. "I can't even remember the last time I drank like that. Probably pre-kids." But no, that wasn't completely true. He'd drank much more than his fair share the days and weeks after Ginny left. Before she came back again.
Harry looked out the window and caught sight of the street signs, then nodded. "Just up here at the corner is fine," he said to the cabbie, who said something back then pulled over into an empty space near a fire hydrant. Harry shuffled a few bills out of his waller and handed them in through to the driver, then climbed out, holding the door for Katie too.
Once she was out, he looped his arm back around her waist, casually, friendly, and led her to the dessert bar, which was a tiny, dimly list place at the corner.