“Jessica, you i***t!”
“What?”
Natalya looked pissed. A glance around the table showed her parents and aunt were suddenly very focused on their glasses of ceviche. It was fantastic and by far the best food she’d ever had from the Judge. There was a lightness to all of the elements so that it didn’t overwhelm the mild seafood, but rather complemented the bursts of tomato or the light zing of onion. It was bright without the usual ceviche problem of being too acidic.
“This is Greg’s food, and he was standing right behind you when you said that.”
Jessica hunched her shoulders as if he still was, even though she could see him back at the window.
“Greg can cook?”
“Oh my god,” Natalya rolled her eyes. “Please tell me I’m not related to you.”
“Since when can Greg cook?” She glanced surrepti
