She gives me a noncommittal shrug. “Sure.”
A few turns and one winding road later, we pull up to Tiny’s—the best damn vegan soul food spot north of the border. It’s been here since the town was nothing but dust and stubborn farmers. And when I first moved out this way looking for land that would actually give back, grow fresh produce, everyone pointed mehere and said Tiny was the one who’d know the soil, the people, and thetruthabout the land.
They were right.
Tiny’s is sacred around here. The restaurant itself and the goddess who owns it.
We walk inside and it’s like stepping through a time machine straight into the heart of the 90s. The walls are plastered with framed photos of R&B legends—Aaliyah, TLC, Brandy, Boyz II Men—all in vintage gloss and grain. There’s a corner jukebox glowing in neon pink with a handwritten sign taped on the side that says,“No skipping Mary J. Blige.”
Cassette tapes line the hostess stand like museum artifacts, and there’s a mural of Biggie and Tupac painted side by side on the back wall. Even the ceiling fans creak to the rhythm of 112 playing overhead.
And just as we cross the threshold, the entire room erupts.
“Welcome home, Eli!”
It’s not just me they greet like this. They greet everyone this way. At Tiny’s if you’ve been here once, you’re family. Twice, and you’re home.
Max mutters under her breath, “Another establishment where everyone seems to know who you are…”
Mo, the hostess, walks over with a big grin and a side-eye she doesn’t bother to hide.
“Hey family,” Mo says. “Table for two?”
“Yes, Mo. Just us two.”
“Mmm hmm,” she hums, her eyes darting between me and Max.
I take a breath.
Here comes thenosiness.
“Welcome to Ti—” Tiny stops mid-sentence as soon as she looks up and sees me being seated with a woman.
She gets cozy very quickly. “Welcome to Tiny’s. I’m Tiny and who might you be?” she says, looking directly at Max.
Max extends a hand to Tiny. “Maxine Palmer, but you can call me Max.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Max. And such a pretty thing?” She says, looking at me now. “What will we be having tonight?” she asks with a wink.
“I’ll have my usual, Tiny.”
“And I’ll have the vegan mac and cheese, ox tails and collard greens.”
“Excellent choice,” Tiny beams. “I’ll go put that order in right now. Can I get you two something to drink? Maybe wine or champagne? Celebrating anything special?”
I let out an exasperated sigh. “That will be all, Tiny.”
“Actually,” Max interrupts. “I’ll have a glass of wine. It’s been quite the day.”
“Red or white?”
“Red, please. I want it to be the color of blood.”
“Coming right up, sweetie."
Max watches me and I can tell she has a million questions behind those eyes of hers. It’s the first time I’ve sat across from her andreallygotten a look at her. Round, plump lips against brown skin that matches mine. She looks like she was built for me.
And this is why. This is why saying yes to her coming home with me was the worst thing I could have done.
