“Enough sadness,” Opal says, perking back up instantly. “This is supposed to be a happy day. Eat up, you guys.”
The time has come, I know it. I have to move on to the next dish.
I take a spoonful of Iris’s stew. It tastes like licking a moss-covered tombstone. Bitter, earthy, with a medicinal bite that makes my tongue curl. My throat tries to lock up halfwaythrough, but I force it down, nodding like I just tasted my favorite egg drop soup.
“Interesting,” I manage.
Holy shit. Why does that burn in my stomach just a little bit?
Iris watches me with sharp eyes, no expression. “It’s all from my own garden. Fresh harvest. I sell the dehydrated version on my website. Always sells out.”
She knows what it tastes like though. Sheabsolutelyknows.
And then there’s Opal’s creation. I scoop up a spoonful of quinoa and seeds and—yes, marshmallows—and pop it into my mouth before I can think better of it.
The texture is…confusing. Crunchy, squishy, sour, sweet. Like chewing through a mood swing. My brain actually short-circuits.
Opal leans forward, eyes wide. “Well?”
I choke down the bite, swallow hard, and croak out, “Festive.”
Willow kicks me under the table. I glare at her; she hides her laugh behind a sip of cranberry juice.
Opal claps her hands. “See? He gets it! Texture play isimportant.”
“I’ve literally never seen anyone eat more than one bite of that,” Iris murmurs, voice dry as bone.
“I’m pacing myself,” I shoot back, stabbing at more chicken like it might save me from this test. “Opal, I don’t think I know what you do.” There. That might buy me ten seconds.
“Oh, I’m a reiki healer!” she offers enthusiastically. “I’m planning on opening my own studio, but I don’t have enough for the deposit yet. So, I also work at the crystal shop down the street.”
“I’m not familiar with reiki,” I admit. I stir her concoction on my plate, never actually scooping up a bite.
“Energy healing,” she says like it’s obvious and I should have known this. “I’ll give you a session sometime. Your energy is pretty good, but you’ve got some shit in your past.” She arches an eyebrow at me knowingly.
I glance at Willow, my mouth dropping open in disbelief. “How…”
Willow smirks. “She just knows.”
Halfway through dinner, I notice Iris watching me carefully as I choke down another spoonful of her stew. Her lips twitch—almost a smile.
By the time dinner is over, the plates scraped clean, my stomach feels like a science experiment gone wrong, but I’ve survived.
Opal leans back, staring at me with mock solemnity. “You must have an iron stomach. I’ve never seen anyone eat that much of my quinoa magic.”
“Well, it was… good?”Lie better, you bastard.
“I mean,Ilove it, but no one else usually partakes with me,” she says with a smirk. Her eyes flick to Iris’s. “How was the soup of sadness?”
I blink, confused. “Wait. You all…weren’t serious about dinner?”
Willow bursts out laughing. Iris finally allows herself a smirk. Opal grins like she just pulled off a heist.
“Oh, we were serious,” Iris says smoothly. “That soup is my specialty. But it’s only ever clients who consume it. And Opal came up with her special recipe, all on her own. We’re just… surprised you suffered through it all.”
Opal winks. “Test passed.”
I drop my fork and groan. “You weretestingme?”
