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“Who will say grace?” Guinevere changed the subject, quickly raising her hands.
I looked at her and she nodded.
“You don’t say grace?” Roy questioned.
“I do.” Not.
“I’ll say it, then.” Guinevere clapped her hands together. “Bless this food, and the people who prepared it. Many thanks for the meal and the company, may it fill our stomachs and electrify our souls.”
“Not bad.” Roy nodded toward her. “I like the ‘electrify our souls’ bit.”
“City Slicker, what does your mother do?” Jeremy asked, grabbing a piece of chicken.
“She’s the acting chairwoman of the hospital I work for.”
“So, you are both doctors? What type? You look like a dentist,” Malik questioned next.
I shook my head at Guinevere, telling her not to jump in. I could see what they were doing: asking all Masoa’s questions so he didn’t have to.
“Dentists are important to a person's health. I, however, am a neurosurgeon, while my mother’s specialty was pediatric surgery.” I took a bite of the salmon. “This is incredible, Ma’am.”
Guinevere grinned. “What did I say? Home of the—”
“The best wild salmon in the country!” I replied, shaking my head as I fought the smile spreading on my lips.
“And you thought I was joking.” She nodded proudly while stuffing her face and I couldn’t help but laugh out loud; she was cute. She glanced up at me and I kept staring at her.
I was about to say something when her father coughed beside me, reminding us we weren’t alone.
“Thank you, Eli. I’m glad you enjoy it,” her mother cut in.
Jeremy’s eyes narrowed in on me as I ate. “Neurosurgeon, huh? Fancy, but does it count if your mom runs the hospital?”
“I graduated top of my class at Yale Medical. I was offered the choice to stay there, but I wanted to be closer to my family. So of course I went to work for my mother’s hospital.”
I knew it was coming. I felt it.
Don’t ask. Don’t.
“And your father?” Roy pressed.
Called it.
Guinevere put her fork down. “Guys, we just got back. Can you save the questions for another time—”
“It’s fine. My father was also a neurosurgeon. He died of a heart attack when I was eleven. I was there with my mother and younger brother when it happened.” I looked to her father, who had yet to say anything, but whom I could feel watching me. “So, sir, I truly hope you are taking much better care of yourself. The last thing I want is for Guinevere to feel like she was cheated out of time with her father.”
Just like I knew it would, the dinner table became silent; it was why I hadn’t wanted them to ask—I knew it would just make them feel awkward.
“Okay.” Jeremy cracked his neck side to side. “Lightning round. You ready?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“How old are you?” Malik asked, not answering me.
“31.”
“Born on?”
