“Renkar would’ve liked this place,” he said, his finger tracing the pattern on the tablecloth. “He would’ve made friends with Savina within five minutes. He did that. Talked to everyone like he’d known them for years. I never understood how, because that’s just not me. Twins, but we weren’t alike in that way.”
His tone made me sit very still.
“He would’ve ordered half the menu. Then convinced me to try everything. And he would’ve been right about all of it.”
The candlelight caught the edge of his jaw, creating shadows I couldn’t read.
Savina brought over our meals. Pasta, more than two people could eat. She set them down, beaming at both of us, making no effort to appear subtle. She spoke more Italian. Longer this time, with a rhythm that sounded like a question.
Tolrek replied.
“What did she say?” I asked after she’d left.
“She said you look like someone who’s good for people.”
I tilted my head. “Is that an accurate translation?”
He picked up his fork. “Close enough.”
We ate. The pasta was perfect. Rich and simple.
I told him about the video analysis software I wanted the team to invest in. He told me about the first time he’d played in Boston, years ago, before the trade, when he was new to our world and getting a feel for the teams. We talked about Beau, about the park, and about the vendor near the entrance who sold pretzels that were always warm and delicious.
When we’d finished and they’d taken our plates, Savina brought over tiramisu, setting it between us on a single plate. Two forks. She beamed before spinning and sweeping across the room to stop at a different table.
His fork crossed paths with mine halfway through. Our hands were close enough that I could feel the warmth from his skin. The touch was small enough to be deniable. Loaded enough to be anything but.
When I excused myself to use the restroom, I stood in front of the mirror after and had a very serious conversation with my reflection about what I thought I was doing.
My reflection didn’t have any answers.
When I came back, Tolrek stood near the front desk, talking to Savina.
I joined him.
“Ready?” he asked.
“We need to get the check.”
“Already done.”
I opened my mouth.
He lifted his brows.
I let it go, though it cost me something. This had shifted from colleagues getting food to something new and I wasn’t sure what to make of that.
Savina rounded the counter and hugged me.
One second I was standing, the next I was being held by a tiny Italian woman who smelled like butter and garlic, a person who made decisions about people in under thirty seconds.
Over her shoulder, I caught Tolrek’s face.
He was watching us with an expression I couldn’t name but felt everywhere.
Savina said something to him in Italian as we moved toward the door. He nodded once.
I didn’t ask for a translation this time.
