“I don’t eat a lot of seafood,” Elena says, turning the menu over in her hands. She glances up at Gwen. “What would you recommend?” “Nothing solid,” Gwen drones, tapping her pen on the end of her notepad. “Gwen,” I mutter, resting my arm along the back of the booth where Elena sits. “Customer service manners, remember?” She rolls her eyes, shifting her weight to the other foot. “I’m trying to save her from definite food poisoning. Vincent’s manning the kitchen today, and Jonas won’t even eat his cooking.” Glancing at Elena, she widens her brown eyes. “Jonas eats anything. Just not if Vincent’s
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