I keep my bathrobe clutched closed with one hand while I offer the other to the old woman to shake. Taking me by surprise, she sweeps me into a hug instead. I’m mortified, but she couldn’t give a damn less.
“Any friend of Sasha is a friend of mine,” she declares, oozing maternal warmth. “And any girlfriend of his is even better.”
My face goes beet red. Sasha makes no move to correct her.
She steps back, though she keeps both wrinkled hands plastered on my shoulders. “You are a beauty, dear! Let me put some food in your belly.”
I keep blushing as I fumble to remember how adults make conversation with new acquaintances. Especially when that acquaintance doesn’t even blink at Sasha showing up here with a woman in a robe. Is this a regular thing he does? “Is, uh— Am— Is this your restauran
