“We’re all trying to be supportive, Matt,” Belle said with a slight smirk. “Since you actually have a nice girlfriend, not a skank on a stick.”
“I’m not here to be supportive,” Jonathan said. “I came in to see Matt fail and fall on his face.”
“I love how loyal family is.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” Jonathan ruffled my hair.
I batted at his hands, and Owen tossed me my suit jacket. “Let’s go Christmas shopping.”
The Christmas market was packed.
“I can’t shop on an empty stomach,” Jonathan said, immediately going to stand in line for pierogies and Polish sausages.
“We’re supposed to be helping Matt,” Jack complained.
Owen checked his watch. “I do have a company to run, you know.”
“I literally didn’t ask you to help,” I countered.
“Pierogies would be nice,” Belle said, joining us in line.
“Can I have the cheese and potato ones?” Oliver asked.
“You need to buy your own food.” Jack scowled at him.
“He’s still in school. You can pay for him,” Belle retorted.
I peered around the long line. One older woman stood there, slowly assembling a plate of fat steaming eastern European dumplings with caramelized onions and grilled sausages. She picked up a sausage slowly, and it hovered over the plate while she and the customers chatted about the holiday party she was planning.
“We are going to be here all afternoon.”
“Fine, then,” Jonathan said, not looking up from where he was texting on his phone. “You can go shopping but I’m not sharing my pierogies with you.”
“Honestly, I’d rather stand in line for pierogies than shop for Christmas supplies,” Jack said as we shuffled forward in line.
When our turn to order finally came, I was starving.
“If it isn’t our Christmas bake-off celebrity,” the stall owner exclaimed when she saw me. She pressed a hand to her chest. “And so many handsome brothers!” She gave them a crafty smile. “I don’t suppose any of you fine young men are still single.”
“Only Oliver,” Jonathan said cheerfully, “but you don’t want him.”
“I have a daughter,” the woman said.
I looked pointedly at the griddle to ideally send her a subliminal signal to start plating the pierogies. She did not get the message.
“Belle’s single, too,” Oliver told the stall owner, “if you have a son.”
“I think Greg would have something to say about that.”
“Shut up,” Belle snarled at Owen, who raised his hands defensively.
The stall owner, however, laughed and finally scooped up several steaming pierogies onto a plate.
“I do have a godson who might be right up your alley.” She winked at Belle. “He’s tall and has a good job and all his teeth.”
“Can’t beat that,” Jack said, struggling not to laugh.
“You can’t tell me this wasn’t worth the wait,” Jonathan said as we crowded around a table. People around us were bundled up against the cold, and they gaped at us. Jack, Owen, and I were in suits. Jonathan was wearing a half-unbuttoned shirt. Oliver wore a T-shirt and flip-flops, and Belle was in a short, sleeveless dress. The ice chips from the sleet sparkled in her hair like diamonds.
