She rolled her eyes, but it was clear across her face she loved the praise.
“Lemme out real quick,” I whispered, wiggling in my seat.
Hendrix climbed out of the booth, and I kissed him as I went by, quick and chaste against the corner of his mouth, before kissing Marzena on the cheek and hooking my arm around her shoulders. She waited until we were in the kitchen before turning on me, poking one of her long and always manicured fingernails into my sternum.
“Hey! Ouch.” I smacked her off and she stabbed at me again.
“Off with a boy,” she accused. “Miles Kirsh. You should be ashamed.”
“Far from it.”
She rolled her eyes at that, weaving deeper into the kitchen to scribble our order down for the cooks.
I followed after her. “If it’s any consolation, I’m very much in love with him.”
Marzena bobbled her head from side to side like she was weighing her options. “Love?”
I covered my heart with my hand. “Head over heels for him. I’m done for. I’m gonna marry him.”
“Are you sure you’re not going to get your heart broken?” she countered. “That’s all big talk,kochanie.”
“You sound like Gray.”
“He loves you.”
“That’s the problem these days,” I muttered. “Can we have extra onions with the pierogi?”
“Who said you’re getting pierogi?” She laughed at me. “Why should I reward you vanishing on me?”
“But I’m here now.” I batted my lashes at her sweetly and she came toward me, finger extended for another rough poke against my chest. I narrowly dodged her assault, laughing as she chased me back toward the double doors that led into the dining room.
Marzena pretended to kick my ass, and I laughed the whole way back to the table. Instead of getting up, Hendrix slid farther into the booth, making room for me on the outside.
“Were you talking about me?” he asked after I settled.
“I told her I loved you and that I wanted to marry you one day.”
Across the table, Wesley laughed, and Hendrix flicked a balled-up straw wrapper at him. I’d been telling the truth, but Hendrix didn’t believe it. I could tell by the amusement on his face.
“What were you like as a kid?” he asked, looking around the restaurant. I followed his gaze, memories of my childhood and early adulthood flooding back. There wasn’t a surface in there that I hadn’t touched. I’d bought Marzena some of the art on the walls. Hell, I’d even painted some of it myself.
The mismatch of frames and media types was jarring at first look, but Marzena’s restaurant felt like home to me. All patterns and lace doilies and comfort.
“Just like I am now, only smaller and with a worse vocabulary,” I said.
“How did your small child’s brain not explode from all the ego you carry?”
“It’s taken me years to grow it this strong.” I patted my head on both sides, giving Hendrix a proud smile. “It wasn’t always this impressive.”
Grayson snorted. “That’s a word for it.”
“Don’t be jealous,” I chided.
“He was much worse as a teenager, anyway,” Grayson said. “Marzena let him drink when he was eighteen and I’m pretty sure he gave himself alcohol poisoning on his nineteenth birthday.”
“Spiritus is no joke,” I said solemnly, the memories of that birthday hazy at best.
“What’s spiritus?” Hendrix asked.
