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“They have the sameropa viejathey had all those years ago, look!” Grandma pointed at the menu before glancing up at us. “Are you two going to the bathroom?”
“Just wanted to make sure you were okay,” I told her, my own heart racing. Adam and I retook our seats. “Um, how are you feeling?”
“Never better!” Grandma beamed at me. “Don’t worry for a moment about this old heart! It’s like a fancy watch—just keeps on ticking no matter what happens.”
Beverly turned to Adam with what looked like a falsely cheery smile. “Well, you look great, Adam! Is that a new shirt? Jenna must have gotten it for you. You wear your clothes until they’re rags.”
Adam acknowledged the comment with a nod that could have meant anything.
The situation was growing tense, but I didn’t know enough about Adam’s family to have any idea how to make things better. “I’ll take some water, too,” I told Javiero, staring at Adam’s bouncing leg. It was difficult to sit by and do nothing when he was obviously so stressed.
Biting my lip, I reached over and laid my hand on his knee. At once, his leg stopped moving.
Before I could pull my hand back, he covered it with his own and squeezed lightly.
Grandma put her menu down on the table and smiled out at all the people at the table. “Aren’t you all a sight for sore eyes!” She didn’t seem to have heard Beverly’s insensitive comments. Maybe she stayed serene by blocking out all the negativity.
“How was the giant orange statue?” I asked, seizing on a possible new route for the conversation and trying desperately not to obsess over the fact that Adam and I were basically holding hands under the table. The warmth of his palm sent little sparks all the way up my arm. Pretty soon I was going to be the one having a heart attack.
“Oh, it was wonderful. Just the way I remembered it.” Grandma smiled beneficently over the table. “Thank you all for humoring me with this trip. Spending this time with you is the next best thing to having Joe here, but I know he’s watching us from heaven.” She looked up and blew a kiss.
My heart nearly melted out of my chest at the sweet gesture, but when I glanced at Adam to see his reaction, he was looking down at his menu. Probably barely holding himself back from commenting that love was illogical.
I pulled my hand out from under his and turned my attention back to my own menu.
“Ready to order?” Javiero asked.
Grandma smiled up at him. “I want theropa vieja, just like I had all those years ago.”
Frank didn’t want any food to go with his margarita, and Beverly couldn’t find anything that fit with her diet, but Nicole, Adam and I ordered the same as Grandma.
I loved the seasoning on the meat and the crispy fried plantains, and since I wasn’t concerned with fitting into my swimsuits, I finished everything on my plate.
Nicole toyed with the idea of ordering dessert, seemingly to spite her mom, if her pointed looks meant anything. “The flan looks good, but I guess we should get going.”
After we all turned down dessert, Grandma tried to pay for the meal, but Adam insisted he would, and nobody argued. By the time we settled the check, thanked Javiero, visited the restroom, and ordered two Trip cars, it was past two in the afternoon.
Nicole eyed our smaller sedan longingly before helping Grandma into the Trip van. I imagined she wanted to get away from her mom and Frank, but she didn’t say anything as she took a seat.
Adam was silent for the first minute after we pulled away from the restaurant.
“Are you okay?” I ventured.
He looked at me, some emotion I couldn’t read lurking in his eyes. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”
“Why? Your grandma is amazing! I can see why you didn’t want to disappoint her.”
“Yeah, but the rest of my family...” Adam let his voice trail off.
Unlike Adam, I could keep my theories to myself, so I didn’t say that it was clear why he didn’t believe in love. “Hey, thanks for saving me from the rat dog.”
Adam cracked a full smile for that. “That thing was crazy. Probably could end up in some kind ofJournal of Veterinary Medicine.”
“Seriously.” I paused for a second. “Sorry I touched you at the restaurant.” It was a lie. I wasn’t sorry; it was shameless bait to get him to share his feelings so I could try to interpret his voluntary hand holding under the table.
He waved a hand. “No need to apologize. I’m good with whatever you’re comfortable with. But don’t feel like you have to.”
“I’m kind of a touchy person,” I admitted.
