"Huh?" The words were the same. That was why I'd been doing so well. It was just the way they were pronounced that was different.

"They're flowers," he explained slowly, enunciating his Vestrian too much. "I don't want to get married. I just saw flowers and I thought you would like them, so I bought them."

"Why?" I asked again right as Zasen came into the room.

"Ayla, take the flowers," he told me. "Rymar, find a vase. We can put them on the coffee table." Then he tossed himself down into his favorite chair. "And I'm curious to hear why flowers make you think marriage."

"The hunters would often bring them to girls," I explained as I accepted the massive bouquet. "Not as many as this. Just one or two. Something colorful, and girls would be excited. Gideon did that once for Meri. A white one. And she thought it was so sweet, but he only did it to get her to marry him, so I thought..."

"No marrying!" Rymar assured me. "None." He waved his hands in an X across his body. "Just flowers because my friend likes them." Pointing at me to make it clear who he meant, the brightly-colored man smiled and headed for the kitchen.

And now I looked at the flowers in a whole new way. Rymar had gotten these for me because we were friends? But I'd barely even talked to him since he'd started spending his days at his work. Or at his job? I wasn't sure which phrase was correct.

Plus, they really were pretty. The colors of the petals reminded me of the darker shade on Kanik's chest. It was much lighter than his neck, though. The centers were dark, similar to Zasen, and the petals folded backwards, reminding me of a picture I'd once seen of a ballerina.

"They're pretty," I said softly, smiling down at the bouquet.

"Mhm," Zasen agreed. "That's the point of flowers. So are you willing to tell me why you're smiling now when you refused them before?"

"He said we were friends," I admitted shyly.

A smile cracked Zasen's face just as Rymar returned with a large clear container filled halfway with water. "You can put them in here to make them live longer," Rymar explained. "They'll still die in a few days, but I walk past a woman who sells them on my way home."

"You walk past the entire market," Zasen pointed out.

Rymar murmured at that, clearly not concerned about the details of his explanation. Then he claimed the other chair in the room. Leaning back, he kicked his feet up on the coffee table between him and Zasen.

"So..." Rymar smiled slyly. "Guess who came to the cafe today?"

"Who?" I asked.

Not that it would matter because I didn't know anyone but the three of them. It still seemed like it was what he wanted someone to ask. When he glanced over at me and grinned, I knew I was right.

"Zasen's little sister and her girlfriend," he explained. "The nurses who helped you with your feet when you got here. They asked how you were doing. I decided we should have a cookout tomorrow."

"A what?" I asked.

"No," Zasen said a second later.

"A cookout," Rymar went on, completely ignoring Zasen. "It's all arranged already. Jeera - she's Zasen's sister - is going to get some samples of meat so we can see what you like. Brielle thought she'd bring a selection of different fruits. I'm going to cook, because we have a firepit out back. Zasen is going to grump about it, but I think he should go invite Saveah and Tamin."

"They won't come," Zasen said.

"They will if Jeera and Brielle are here," Rymar countered.

But I had a question, and one they'd skipped right over. "What's a cookout?"

"A cookout?" Kanik asked as he trotted down the stairs, clearly catching the last part of that. "Who?"

"Us," Rymar said. "Tomorrow. Jeera and Brielle are coming for sure. Zasen's going to invite Saveah and Tamin. That means Taris will be there."

"Oh, she has to be getting so big," Kanik murmured.

Confused, I was looking between the three of them. I'd gotten really good at understanding Vestrian. If I stopped thinking so hard, it was like they talked with a heavy accent, and one I was getting used to. Considering their English was almost as accented, that actually made it even easier.

And yet none of this made sense. The nurses from the hospital were coming. Tamin's mom wouldn't. I'd heard what she said about me being a Mole. But why? What was the point? And who was Taris?

"I'm confused," I admitted sheepishly.

Kanik flopped onto the couch, then reached over to pull my ankles back onto the middle cushion between us. "A cookout is a social gathering," he explained. "We prepare a meal with friends and neighbors as an excuse to see each other and catch up on our lives. It's a thing friends do."

"Who's Taris?" I asked next.

That made Kanik smile. "Tamin's little sister. She's..." He glanced at Zasen. "Three months old now?"

"About that," Zasen agreed.

"Is she yours?" I asked him.

Zasen laughed at that. "No, Ayla. I don't have any children. Saveah is a friend, and her husband was one of our close friends. You see, the four of us grew up together. We actually bought this house because he and Saveah moved into theirs. Well, hers now."

"Oh." I nodded. "So she's a widow?"

"She is," he agreed.

"Lucky woman."

"Don't..." Kanik begged. "Please don't say that to her, Ayla? Her marriage was not like what you know. When he died - which was less than a month ago - she was devastated. If you try to congratulate her or say she's lucky, she would be offended."