“Even when you’re crying.” He pulled her closer and kissed her forehead. “I want to show you something.”
Right then, her stomach growled.
“Is it a sandwich?” she joked, wiping away an errant tear.
He laughed. “No, it’s not a sandwich.”
“Is it a gyro?”
“A gyroisa sandwich.”
“Hard disagree.”
“Disagree? What exactly is your definition of a sandwich?” he asked, raising his brow.
“An assortment of fillings between two pieces of bread.”
“How does a gyro not meet that definition?”
“Gyros are either in a pita pocket or wrapped in a pita, not two pieces of bread.”
“What if the pita is cut in two?”
“Nuh-uh. That’s cheating.”
“Cheating?! It’s a sandwich!”
“Let me guess. You think ahot dogis a sandwich?”
“Okay, well, do you want to keep debating the definition of the sandwich, or do you want me to show you what it is I found?” he asked with a laugh. His smile finally put her at ease.
“How about you show me.”
Theo took her hand and led her through the doorway to a dining room, then through the room and into another.
“I like your jammies,” he said as they walked.
“They’re only ten sizes too big.”
“They look cute on you.”
He pushed open a door and they entered an industrial-grade kitchen with Andreas and Christos standing at a stainless steel counter dunking pita bread into some sort of dip.
“Oh, hey,” Andreas said, setting the bread down as Christos waved midbite.
“Look who I found,” Theo said. Or, you know, who was crying like a lost child in the mall. “This one is ours,” he said, pointing to a plate with an assortment of vegetables, olives, fruit, pita, and dollops of dips.
“You made this?” Dani asked.
“Well, I didn’tmakeit, but I compiled this arrangement,” Theo explained.
“It’s so good,” Christos said with a mouthful.
“Well, I still have something I wanted to show Dani,” Theo said, picking up the tray and taking her hand again, “so we’re going to get going.”
Andreas and Christos gave them a little wave and then they headed out of the room.
“Now where are we going? Back to the room to the mattress tostada?” she asked.
