“I don’t like—”
“Ces, just try it. Have I ever steered you wrong?”
I examined the blob, then him, then Sofia. She was watching with glee, Xavier with more of a smirk.
“Fine,” I said.
Not to be outdone, I opened my mouth and allowed him to feed me the urchin.
It was…
“Delicious,” I admitted with surprise after I’d gotten over the chilled, wobbly texture. I didn’t love that part, but Sofia was indeed right. It wasn’t the least bit fishy and had a slightly buttery flavor.
“It melts into an incredible sauce,” Xavier said with a satisfied grin—one that was finally directed at me. “I’ll make it for you sometime.”
For me, or for us both?
I hated that I even wondered.
Before I could stop him, he reached out and drew his thumb slowly over my bottom lip, eyes pinned to the trail left by his finger.
“Mama, I’m hungry. But not for any more fish.”
Xavier jerked, then pulled his hand away. “Er, you had a bit on your face.”
Immediately, I wiped again at the spot. His fingerprint seared.
Xavier exchanged cards with the urchin vendor, then offered Sofia his hand. “Come on, kid. Let’s get you a sandwich at the café. Then if your mum’s up to it, we can find a park and run around.”
We followed him out of the hangar and around the corner into a grubby bodega on the corner that appeared to have a grill in the back. There was a small line clearly serving the workers who were already done for their “day.” The smell of frying eggs, ham, and toasted bread filled the air alongside the familiar scents of cafe con leche, newspapers, and all the other odd little things common to shops like these all over the city.
“I’m shocked you’re willing to eat here,” I murmured to Xavier, who just shot me a look of faux outrage. “You do know it’s not organic, right? And I’m sure the eggs aren’t free range.”
For that, I received a playful nudge.
“I’ve not completely grown out of my roots, you know,” he said as we stepped to the counter. “Besides, one of the fishmongers told me they get everything fresh around the corner. Bread from Il Forno, eggs from Hunt’s Point Produce. You get the picture. So what’ll it be?”
“I could do with a fried egg sandwich on a kaiser roll,” I said. “Sofia’ll have a bagel and maybe an orange—Mom?”
I blinked when the cashier turned around and I was faced with the same surprise twice in one week.
She looked the same as she had on Sunday, except this morning her blond hair was pulled back, revealing some graying roots, the circles under her eyes were a little more pronounced, and the clothes she wore were a bit grubby around the wrists and collar.
“Frankie?”
Guadalupe Ortiz’s large green eyes immediately brightened when she caught sight of me and Sofia. Then they shifted to Xavier and stayed there a beat or two longer, full of sharp curiosity and something else I couldn’t quite name. She turned and barked something in Spanish toward one of her coworkers, then stripped off her apron and scurried around the counter.
“Hi, baby!” she cried a little too loudly. “Come say hello to your abuela!”
We shifted to the side to allow the line to pass us, and my mother squatted down right there in the shop and spread her arms expectantly for Sofia, who looked up at me with questions in her eyes.
I shrugged, as if to tell her it’s your choice.
She turned back shyly back and then tentatively allowed her a hug, tapping her shoulders lightly until she was finally released.
Xavier watched with his stern resting face. Skepticism played over his features, and I didn’t miss the way he took a step in front of Sofia after my mother released her.
“I thought you worked at a convenience store,” I said.