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I watch the fading sun outside our window, and my heart swells. He’s right. The brother I knew is gone. The man who took his place is no friend of mine. But the Romanovs are my family now, and with them, I’ll find the strength, loyalty, and love I’ve been searching for.
“Are you hungry?”
I sigh. “Always.”
He squeezes my knee. “Good. There’s a little diner ahead. No one’s followed us. Aleks is watching.”
I smile. “Oooh. I’ve always wanted to go to a diner.”
“I’m guessing you don’t have them in Colombia?”
“No. I mean, in some larger cities, you can find American-themed restaurants, but they’re unusual. We prefer our own food.”
He gives me a rare smile. “Then you’re in for a treat.”
“Yeah?”
“Something uniquely American I go for every time I come back to America. I crave a good ol’ American breakfast. Bacon and eggs, those little fried potatoes. Toast with these little pats of jelly.”
“They sell breakfast?”
“Yes, every kind of breakfast you can imagine. Of the American variety, anyway. And sandwiches for lunch, all the sandwiches.”
“Burgers? I love an American burger.”
“With fries? You got it.”
Now I’m starving. “Can I get an ice-cold Diet Coke on the side?”
“Of course.” He opens his door and comes to my side. We’re the only ones here, and for once, it’s nice to see that Ollie is almost…relaxed.Carlos is momentarily distracted; his family’s got us on their radar. We’ve got this.
A neon sign flickers above the small diner like a beacon of light in an otherwise desolate place. It looks like it’s straight out of an American movie from the fifties, and my heart soars. We’re honeymooning! Me and my badass, grumpy husband.
He opens the door, and I’m immediately presented with a large glass display case of assorted pies and pastries. “I’mstarving.”
The bell on the door jingles as we walk in, the scent of warm coffee and fried food greeting us. The only person here is an older woman with graying hair and glasses wearing a frilly apron. She’s holding her phone at arm’s distance, pecking at something on the screen, her tongue sticking out of her mouth.
“Welcome,” she says warmly, placing her phone in her apron pocket.
Her eyes go wide as saucers when he enters behind me. I look over my shoulder and try to see him the way she does—scary, badass, and dangerous. “Have a seat. You have your choice of the place. Anywhere you like, hon.” I can tell this isn’t something she offers just anyone, as only the first four tables are set. There are benefits to being with Ollie.
I draw closer to him. I fully intend onenjoyingsaid benefits.
He leads us to a booth near the back, away from the windows and close to the kitchen. Of course he needs to be able to have a good vantage point.
I can’t help but notice the way the red vinyl squeaks under Ollie’s weight. I fit here just fine, but even though Ollie isn’t quite as enormous as the others in his family, he still dwarfs this place. The table between us is small. When our knees brush under it, it sends a spark of something down my spine I can’t ignore. He picks up the sticky menu, scanning it with a look of utter concentration.
I stifle a giggle.
“What’s so funny?” he asks, his eyes flicking up to meet mine.
“Nothing, just… I’ve seen you take down a man twice your size without flinching, and here you are, staring down this little menu like it’s a life-or-death decision…”
“Foodisa life-or-death decision, Renata,” he says seriously, though his lips twitch.
“Is that so?” I say. There’s a lightness in my chest I haven’t felt in so long, it almost scares me. It feels dangerous and wonderful.“What might you recommend for someone who could be looking at her last meal?”
His eyes narrow playfully. It’s a welcome change from his usual stern demeanor. “The bacon cheeseburger followed by apple pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Anything else is just playing with fire. Too risky.”
