“You do have great hair,” Andi says reassuringly.
“Thank you.”
Ayla arrives with a tray loaded with drinks. I don’t know how a little thing like her can carry all that, but she seems to be an expert. She serves us all then asks about food.
I haven’t even looked at the menu. I flip it open and study it while the others order. They come here enough that they already know what they want.
“Mozzarella sticks. Wings. Fried ravioli,” Crusher says. He glances around the table. “Two of each.”
“You got it,” Ayla says.
“I assume the pizza is good?” I say to Marek in a low voice.
“Oh, yeah. Everything is.”
“Nikki,” Mabel calls from down the table. “Do you want to share the black truffle burrata toast?”
I purse my lips and read the description on the menu. “Ooooh, yeah. That sounds good.”
“Nobody else will ever share it with me,” she complains. “I’m glad you’re here!”
A white-haired man walks up to the table, a big smile on his face. “Gentlemen! Good to see you!”
“Hey! Uncle Ernie!”
The guys stand and there’s a lot of back slapping and bro hugs as Ernie congratulates them for their fantastic season. I appreciate his positivity, knowing how devastated the team was at their loss. Because, truly, they did have an amazing season.
Marek gestures to me and I slide out of the booth to join him. “Ernie, I want you to meet my girlfriend, Nikki Sullivan.”
My girlfriend.
I love hearing that.
I smile at Ernie and extend a hand to shake, but he pulls me into a hug. “So you’re the one who finally showed this guy how to love.”
I pull back and exchange a glance with Marek. We’re equally shook. Ernie apparently knows Marek pretty well.
“He showed me, too,” I tell Ernie with another glance at Marek. His eyes warm. “And he showed me how to have fun.”
“Life is short!” Ernie says. “Sometimes we learn that the hard way.”
And then I remember that Ayla and Carson’s baby was his great-grandson. My heart pinches. And Ernie meets my eyes and I see understanding there. He knows what I’ve been through.
“Yes,” I agree.
“You are beautiful,” he says to me. “With the voice of an…” He pauses. “I was going to say angel, but that’s not quite right. Because there is a little bit of wicked in your voice. A little spice. A lot of passion.”
I blink at him, his face creased into compassionate wrinkles. “Thank you,” I manage to say.
“That’s a great description.” Marek slides his arm around my waist. “That describes her, not just her voice.”
I slide my gaze to the side and up to look at Marek. He smiles at me.
Ernie pats my shoulder. “I hope we’ll see you again here.”
“Absolutely.” I nod.
We take our seats again.
