Page 72 of Grumpy Puck

“The way your boyfriend almost killed the Yeti mascot,” she says.“And that kiss.I couldn’tbearany of it.”

I don’t ask her which of the many kisses she’s talking about because that would just be making her point for her.

“I will make it up to you and everyone else in the family,” I say.

“You will?”She sounds pretty skeptical.

“Are Mom and Dad having the usual Friday night dinner?”

“No way,” she squeaks.“You can’t mean it.You’re really going to?—”

“I am.Assuming it’s okay with Mom.”

There’s a sound of running on the other end of the call, and I hear Seraphina asking Mom if she wants to meet my Boo Boo.

Something clanks loudly.Seraphina shouts something like “that’s my phone.”

“Calliope,” Mom says, the excitement in her voice a little disturbing.“If you don’t bring your boyfriend over after teasing me like this, I will not speak to you for a month.”

“Hold on.”I locate Michael and mute my phone to ask if he’d like to go to dinner with my family on Friday.

He smiles.“I’d love to meet your family.”

Yeah, sure.There go the famous last words in our budding relationship.

Chapter21

Calliope

It doesn’t take me long to arrange my stuff in the guest room of my choice, though I feel depressed at the thought of actually sleeping here instead of next to Michael… assuming that is the arrangement he has in mind.

Spotting what’s left of my bear suit, I give Coach a call, and he reassures me that Michael already told him about the loss, and that a new suit will be waiting in my dressing room.

When I’m done with everything, Michael offers to cook us dinner.

“Can I help?”I ask.

“If you wish.”He leads me to the kitchen, where he has me watch as he expertly chops up mushrooms and then fries them without any hint of needing my help.

“I didn’t realize you needed me for moral support,” I grumble as my stomach rumbles from the earthy, delicious scent.

Michael chuckles.“Do you know how to makevareniki?”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“A Ukrainian staple,” he says.“Similar topelmeni, but with more options when it comes to fillings.”

“Oh, that explains it,” I say with a hint of an eyeroll.“What’spelmenithen?”Another nickname he plans to bestow upon me?

“They’re a type of Russian dumpling.”He pulls out a packet of flour from a drawer that is so high up I’d need a step stool to reach it.“They originated in Siberia and were likely inspired by Chinese wontons.”

“Oh.That sounds delicious.”

And hey, “dumpling” can be a term of endearment, though I strongly prefer “little bird.”

“Both dishes are delicious.Pelmeniare always filled with meat, butvarenikican have all sorts of fillings—and my favorite is mushrooms.”He starts kneading the dough with his strong hands, which, for some odd reason, makes my boobs extremely jealous.

Watching all this from my shoulder, Wolfgang chirps.

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