Gram crosses the room, stopping at Oliver’s side. “You saved my baby?”
Oliver turns his head upward, still looking nervous. “Yes, ma’am,” he tells her.
Gram throws her arms around the man and snuggles into him. “Thank you.”
Oliver’s almost frozen, and all uncomfortable movement from earlier disappears. “Not a problem,” he says as he pats my gram’s arm.
“I need to cook for you,” Gram says as she backs away, but she keeps her arms on his shoulders. “You deserve so much thanks.”
“No, Gram. I’m treating him,” I tell her. I don’t have the heart to say eating her cooking isn’t a thank-you. It’s the complete opposite—except for her eggplant parm, which is the best I’ve ever had. “We’re having some burgers.”
Gram shakes her head. “A burger doesn’t seem like thanks enough.”
“It’s plenty, ma’am,” Oliver tells her, trying to force a smile onto his face.
“Gram,” Gram corrects him, and I chuckle.
The scared look on his face doesn’t fade. “Um,” he mumbles, staring up at her in sheer terror.
“You guys are all over the top,” I say. I knew coming here would be a mistake, but I still suggested it. “Stop scaring the man.”
“The man jumped in front of a car. I don’t think a few people are going to scare him,” Dad says.
“You jumped in front of a car?” Gram asks, still touching him. “Oh my word.” Gram looks over at me and gives me a look that totally says marry him. “I’ll make the burger. You deserve a good meal.”
“I’ve got it,” Daphne says, saving us all from my grandmother’s cooking. “We do have a cook, Ma.”
“But it should be made with love,” Gram tells my aunt.
“Not if we want him to keep breathing,” Aunt Daphne says as she heads to the kitchen before my grandmother can shoot back a response and argue about her cooking.
Gram’s phone rings inside her purse. “Shit. I have to go. I’m meeting the girls for coffee to gossip, andthey’re going to eat this story up when I tell them about this fine drink of water.” She pats Oliver’s shoulder, giving him a wink. “You take care of yourself, handsome.”
“Thanks,” he says, but his voice turns up at the end.
“Don’t mind her,” I tell him when she runs out of the bar like her ass is on fire. “She can be a bit much.”
“A bit?” Dad says, finally laughing.
“Leave the kids alone, Lucio. They need time to talk and decompress. Stop hovering,” Aunt Daphne says when she walks back into the bar from the kitchen. “They’ll be out in five.”
I give her a smile because I’m starving and because she’s trying to save us from my father. “Thanks, Auntie.”
“Fine,” Dad grumbles as he taps the table, completely irritated. “We’ll talk about this later.”
“Yay, me,” I say, earning myself a side-eye glare before he stalks away. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay,” Oliver says as his shoulders finally relax and we’re alone—or as close as we can be with my dad and aunt still nearby. “They seem nice.”
“Seem is the operative word.” I smile as my gaze wanders to where my aunt and dad are talking near the bar. “They can be a lot sometimes, even to me, and I was born into this circus.”
“Is your family big?”
“Yeah.”
“Close?”
“Too much.”
