Chapter 2- Dinner party

Boris didn't know if it was pregnancy hormones or the ever persistent presence of the disease that hung over their heads, but every night was the same. Marissa would push around her food listlessly, then walk into the garden with him in silence, until it was time to go to bed. His heart mourned with her. He could give her so much but not the happiness and joy that she deserved.

He was about to ask her if she wanted to sit and have a foot massage, when the sound of laughter caught her attention. Tentatively, she sniffed the dinner that was in the air, and with a bright smile she dashed off, holding the growing mound in front of her carefully.

Without thinking that she may not be wanted, she opened the gate to the guest cottage, 'Oh, something smells good! Sweetheart, come! Hot dogs!'

Boris ducked through the gate and was greeted with silence and surprise from Hank, and something like shock bordering on horror from the idiot little brother.

'Can I have a hot dog?' the confused woman begged softly, as she picked up on the tension, 'it's been so long.'

Boris sent the two brother's a pleading look which was completely unnecessary, as the men had already leaped into action; fussing and hovering her in delight.

'Sit by my chair!' Hank insisted.

Evan whipped on an apron and hurried to fire up the grill once again, 'One dog supreme for the lovely lady, coming up!'

Boris didn't mind being ignored. His relationship with Hank had been strained off late and he never spoke to the other one if he could help it. He took a seat in the dark and just stared at Marissa's lovely animated features, as she excitedly waited for the treat.

'Sweetheart! What are you doing over there?!' she demanded with a thunderous frown and an imperious wave to come closer or face the sharp edge of her Cuban tongue.

Hank and Evan tensed again as he sat up at the small table, but graciously they hid their anxiety and aversion for his company. Soon, ten juicy hot dogs appeared on the table, and quick as a blink Marissa had one and was munching with as much enthusiasm as if it was a fine cut of Argentina steak.

'Boris,' Hank gestured graciously, as the billionaire's plate remained empty.

The German leaned forward and took a bun; twiddling it in his lean fingers as he watched everyone assemble their meal with a skill that was beyond him. Quickly, the doctor seemed to realize his problem, and with a gentle cough to get his attention, he demonstrated how the bun should be sliced. Then, under cover of Evan and Marissa swapping stories about great fast food experiences, the billionaire financier mirrored Hank as he squirted a line of ketchup in the bun, followed by mustard and then some chunky green sauce, topped with the hot dog.

The sandwich looked odd to the man; but indeed it smelt quite appealing. He smiled softly as Hank picked up his meal and dug in with gusto.

Thank you, Hank. What strange situation will you rescue me from tomorrow, I wonder?

With some caution, Boris picked up the bun and angled it into his mouth as he had seen the others do. He let the curious flavor wash over his taste buds for a moment, when unfortunately he gagged and turned his head to delicately spit out the morsel in a napkin.

Horrified he stared at Marissa and the others; appalled that they enjoyed something so positively revolting!