“Of course,” the waiter replied, leading us toward a table positioned beside the open grill, flames dancing just inches away.
I recognized it immediately. That table had once been ours—a place Zaldy had invited me into, letting me share in his ritual of selecting cuts and overseeing the cooking. I had believed it was something special between us. Only now did I realize it had never been mine. It had always belonged to him and Maria.
As the grill flared, Gritte stepped forward, grabbing the tongs with confident ease.
“I’ve got this,” she said smugly. “I don’t cook unless I have to—but when I do, it’s perfect.”
She flipped the steaks expertly, the sharp hiss of fat hitting flame slicing through the air.
Everything seemed under control—until a burst of oil ignited suddenly.
Maria gasped in alarm and jolted backward, knocking the edge of the grill. Sparks scattered across the table, hot embers flying in every direction.
Gritte jumped back instantly. I wasn’t fast enough.
Pain exploded along my arm as sparks struck my skin—and Maria’s as well.
Before I could even react, Zaldy moved.
He lunged forward, grabbing Maria and pulling her into his arms with violent urgency.