“We are having hot dogs?” I ask.
He looks over. “I’ve been wanting them since you sent me those pictures.”
We stop at a place that’s part butcher shop and part restaurant. After ordering two jumbo dogs each, we find a small table and settle in across from each other.
I start with something neutral. “These look like the hot dogs in Sweden. For one to be good, it must reach over the ends of the bun.”
Kai holds a bottle of water midway between the table and his mouth. “Yes. Bonus bites.”
“Right,” I say. “The meat is too big for the bread.”
My stomach twists as I realize how that might sound. I do not want him thinking this is only about sex for me.
“This is a good place,” he says, then shrugs. “Or at least was. I haven’t been here for a while.”
“That is a review you would give a restaurant you do not trust anymore.”
Kai lets out a quick snicker. “Yeah, well. Things change.”
I pick up one of my hot dogs. “Let’s test one. Find out if they are still good.”
“Right.” Kai takes a dog off his plate. “Very scientific.”
“I am known for my rigorous methods.”
He snorts, then takes a bite—more than a nibble, less than a mouthful. He waits until he swallows to say, “Oh yeah, still good.”
“I am relieved.” I take a big bite of mine, and as soon as the flavor hits, I close my eyes and moan.
“Good?” he asks.
“Like heaven’s food. This is what a hot dog should be.”
Kai nods. “Would’ve been a wasted trip otherwise.”
“It would have.”
Irritation coils in my chest. Can we not say more than this?
We devour the rest of our first dogs in silence.
As I reach for my second, Kai asks, “Are they cooked the same in Sweden?”
Fan. “Mostly. Grilled or steamed.”
“What about toppings?”
I hesitate. “I think I have told you some of this before.”
He pinches his eyebrows together. “Sorry, I… I don’t remember what you said.”
“Perhaps you did not like it.”
“That bad?”
A nervous chuckle escapes me. “Mashed potatoes. Fried onions. Sometimes shrimp or cucumber salad.”
At least he does not grimace. “Okay. That’s… a lot.”