Page 65 of All Your Dreams

19

PEYTON

Ollie slows in front of a restaurant that has a colorful front and string lights in the windows. The sign above the door reads Tres Besos. “This is Eli’s favorite place,” he says, holding the door open for us. “We used to come here once a month, but I haven’t been in a while.”

“Finding Mexican food as good as back home might be a challenge,” I point out.

“Oh, you won’t be disappointed. Trust me.”

We’ve barely taken two steps in when a female voice rings out from behind the bar. “Ollie!”

A petite woman moves toward us, her deep brown eyes sparkling with delight. Her mahogany-brown hair threaded with silver is pulled back. She cups Ollie’s face in both hands. “You disappeared,” she scolds, but the words still hold affection.

“Dear Maria, I didn’t forget about you. I’ve just been busy,” Ollie says with a laugh.

Her expression softens, concern flickering in her eyes. “Ay, corazón. You look tired.” Maria’s gaze shifts to me and she takes me in the way a mother does when her kid brings someone home. “And who’s this?”

Ollie turns to me, and for a second he looks nervous. “This is Peyton. Peyton, meet Maria. She owns Tres Besos with her husband, Santiago.”

The woman takes my hands in hers. “Welcome.”

“Gracias,” I reply, then add in Spanish, “this place smells incredible and I’ve only heard wonderful things about the food.”

Her eyes widen a fraction, then brighten. “You speak such good Spanish! Where did you learn?”

“I grew up in San Diego. It would’ve been a shame not to learn the language when I heard it often. My parents made sure both my brother and I were fluent.”

“I like you a lot, mija. You have a good heart.” She squeezes my hands once before letting go, turning to Ollie. “You finally brought someone worth meeting.”

Based on his expression, he doesn’t speak Spanish. “What was that?”

“Nothing.” The woman pats his cheek, a knowing look on her face. “Sit and enjoy your dinner.”

I bite back a smile and slide into my chair. Across the table, Ollie narrows his eyes at me. “You speak Spanish.”

“Fluently,” I admit, reaching for my napkin.

“You’re full of surprises.”

I shrug and smooth the napkin over my lap. Maria, who passes behind Ollie, sets a hand on his shoulder. “Santiago will want to see you, corazón.”

She shouts in rapid Spanish and a middle-aged man steps out from the kitchen wiping his hands on his apron. He’s tall and broad with kind eyes and salt-and-pepper hair. “Ollie, you came back!”

Ollie’s posture relaxes further. “Good to see you, amigo.”

“We were worried about you,” Santiago says, his eyes, full of concern, sweeping over Ollie.

“I’m okay. There’s just been a lot happening in my life. But it’s all good.”

The man grunts like he doesn’t entirely believe him, but he doesn’t push. He turns to me instead. “And you are?”

“Peyton,” I say and switch to Spanish again, “You have such a lovely wife. Let’s see if your food is as amazing.”

He chuckles, approval immediate. Maria brings us menus and doesn’t even pretend she’s going to let us decide alone. “The usual, Ollie?” she asks.

“Always.”

“And for you?” Maria asks me in Spanish. “What sounds good?”