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“I like cooking,” she says and blinks a few times. “I realize that part did make me happy. However, I don’t miss the stress of running a busy kitchen. All that pressure felt normal only a few months ago. Now, I nearly panic when I imagine having to go through it again.”
“I want your shop to stay open.”
Xenia gives me a sad smile like I’m a kid asking to visit his dog that went to the farm. She thinks I’m a fool.
“What if you could just be the club’s hangout?” I suggest as my thumb skims her soft knuckles. “If you could make enough to pay for the basics, would you stay open? Or do you need to be successful for the shop to be worth it?”
“I don’t know.”
“I think you do.”
“No,” she says and grips my hand. “I’m learning new things about myself. A week ago, I was set on a certain plan. A month ago, it was a different plan. They were similar, though. Now, I don’t know what I want except to be with you and live in McMurdo Valley.”
“I just can’t picture you cooking in someone else’s kitchen.”
“They’re hiring at Valley Star Diner,” Xenia says and wiggles her brows. “I could flip pancakes and burgers.”
“But would you be able to leave work whenever you wanted to go on a picnic with me?”
Xenia smiles brightly, getting my point. Her business allows us freedom.
“I don’t think I can remain at Velma’s for an entire year.”
“Just because you won’t date her grandson?”
“And I told her I have a disease and can’t have kids, which was the real reason I ended things with Francis.”
Frowning at Xenia, I’m surprised when she starts laughing almost hysterically.
“I wasn’t embarrassed at all,” she says, still giggling wildly. “Why didn’t I just tell her the truth that her grandson isn’t you?”
“Because it would hurt her precious feelings, and you’re good at your core.”
Xenia calms down, still grinning from ear to ear, just glowing like the world is her bitch.
“Yeah, probably. It’s easier to drag down my own ego than do it to someone else. But I’m normally very mindful of my image. I don’t want people to think I’m a loser. That’s why I let my parents push me around. I wanted them to think I was strong. As if I was tougher than my sister and brother because I’d work myself to death while my siblings required vacations and families. It was dumb. Now, I just don’t care.”
“Because the shop isn’t doing well?”
“Aw, Hobo, do you need me to spell it out and feed your ego?”
“Yes, do that,” I say as she laughs in her unguarded way.
Xenia grips my hands and stares into my eyes as she explains, “I’ve wanted you since you first came into the shop. I thought about you constantly, but I was passive. When I took a chance and asked to come along, something broke inside me. I don’t know what happens next, but I feel unburdened now.”
“Iama good influence on people,” I reply. “Everyone tells me so.”
Xenia knows I’m full of crap. She gives me a sad smile at how people don’t value me enough. I can read everything on her pretty face. That’s why I wanted to sit across from her rather than side to side. I like to watch her face tell a story.
“Rose the Cat had her kittens,” Xenia says rather than mention how she pities me. “Four of them.”
“Are you going to name them?”
“I don’t know. Rose the Cat might disappear with them, and I’ll feel worse if I’ve given them names.”
“Wild animals still want comforts. If you give her food and shelter, she’s bound to stick close. Maybe she’ll never come inside your house, but she’ll start viewing you as hers. Same with the kittens,” I explain as our bland barbecue arrives. “Years ago, hell, maybe a decade or more, there was an old discarded dog who stumbled upon me in the woods. I fed him a few times, and he started following me around. We weren’t pals. I didn’t talk to him or pet him. He kept his distance and got antsy if I got too close. But he knew I’d give him food, so I was his person until the winter cold proved too much for his old body.”
Xenia’s expression shifts. I feel her brain imagining me as that old dog succumbing to the cold.She wants so badly to save me.
