He remembered the first time he’d brought Lena here, after her soccer team won the county championship. She’d been missing a front tooth and had declared the gooey, salty-sweet slice "the best thing God ever made." He ordered it then without looking at the price.
His wife, Elena, had been a purist. Every anniversary, she’d fork-fight him for the last bite of the dense, creamy slice, the strawberry glaze catching the candlelight. She’d always win. He’d always let her. saltgrass dessert menu
Marcus smiled for the first time in a week. "And the Strawberry Cheesecake. Two forks." He remembered the first time he’d brought Lena
Marcus felt the knot in his chest loosen a fraction. "Yeah, baby. We can do that." Every anniversary, she’d fork-fight him for the last
The leather booth creaked as Marcus slid into it, the long day of driving from Houston finally settling into his bones. Across from him, his daughter, Lena, traced a finger over the condensation on her water glass. She was twelve now, too old for the kids' menu, too young for the silent weight that had filled the car since the funeral.