I bet she’s devastated about the shop.
Who do you think is the dad?
What do you think started the fire?
I bet it was a one-night stand gone wrong.
Whisper after whisper fills my ears–so quickly that I can’t tell if they’re real or a fabricated piece of my anxious mind. Or both. A gentle drawl pulls me from my inner turmoil. “Whitney! How are you, my dear?”
“I’m great.” I give Doris a tight-lipped smile. It’s a big, fat, lie. She tilts her head like she knows this, but just places her hands on the counter and leans over to give Brinley her biggest smile.
Doris and her family have owned the Clover-Hills Diner for generations. She recently took it over with her husband, Clyde, after her parents passed. They’re like the town’s honorary grandma and grandpa, always looking out for everyone with gentle smiles and warm hearts. After I had Brinley, they’d often stop by Bell’s on their break just to check in on us. Sometimes they’d come bearing breakfast, other times a donut or two. Always something fresh, and always enough for both me and Brinley. I don’t think they ever had children of their own, but they pour all that love into the people around them. Especially the little ones.
It’s as heartwarming as it is heartbreaking.
“Remind me, Hun.” Doris adds. “How old is she now?”
“Eighteen months.”
“Boy, how time flies.” Doris taps her fingers against the counter. “She’s getting so big.”
I sigh, looking down at Brinley and giving her hand a small squeeze. “Tell me about it.”
I look back up, scanning the old chalkboard menu. I already know what I want–it’s more so to give my eyes something else to do. My stomach makes an embarrassingly loud growl, and I realize this is the first thing I’ve had all day. “I’ll just take a–”
“Coffee and maple donut?” Clyde comes up behind her, placing a white paper bag and cardboard cup on the counter between us.
My face softens at the small gesture. “You two know me too well.” I go to reach into my purse, but Doris is quicker. She reaches out to place a gentle hand on mine. “On the house, dear. And if you peek in that bag, there may or may not be an extra treat for Miss Brinley.”
Heat blooms in my cheeks. “Oh, Doris. We couldn’t–”
“Nonsense.” The older lady cuts me off. “It’s the least we can do.”
She gives me a pitying glance, and I force a smile onto my face. Clyde places a tender hand on her shoulder, mirroring her expression. I scoop Brinley back up, handing her the paper bag so I can hold my coffee. Propping her on my hip, I ask, “Can you say ‘thank you’?”
She clutches the bag to her chest, and her thanks sounds a lot more like “Tinks” but it makes Doris and Clyde smile nonetheless. We bid farewell with small waves. Just as I turn around to the front exit, I nearly bump into someone. I mutter an apology and side-step, but his voice has me tilting my head up to meet his gaze. “Edmundo,” I say, more question than statement, the name rolling off my tongue before I can stop it. Edumndo, or Eddie,as he likes to be called, sat right next to me in Mr. Stanford’s math class. We’ve known each other since the 8th grade. Eddie was the kind of kid that always stopped to talk to you, even if it was for something as miniscule as a pencil.
He was adorable in school. But as a man… I think I would remember if he hadthatkind of face. Eddie and the rest of the fire department frequent Bell’s. I’ve probably made his coffee over a dozen times–how the hell have I never noticed what a pretty smile he has? Or how his tan skin is gorgeous, and the freckles dotting the edges of his brown eyes make themthatmuch more charming. He was there this morning, but I couldn't see past the fact he was a boulder standing between me and everything I’ve ever worked for.
“Whitney,” he says back in greeting. “How are you holding up?”
I blink away Eddie's freckles. I mightscream if one more person asks me that. A small part of me is starting to think it was a terrible idea to leave the house. But not only is Eddie stupidly hot–I know he also means well. So I just nod. “As well as I can be. You?”
“Better, now.” He shoves a hand in one of his pockets, a small smile lifting the corner of his lips. “I was hoping I’d run into you.”
“Oh?” I tilt my head, waiting for him to continue.
Eddie crosses his arms and gives me a little shrug, “Maybe we could grab coffee or breakfast sometime?”
“Like a–a date?” I blurt, wishing I could bang my head against the wall at my words. I refrain from glancing down at myself. Messy bun, bare face, and a fresh stain on the sweatpants that aren’t even mine. I’m not surprised he didn’t need to question whether or not Brinley’s dad was around.
“Yeah. Like a date.” His eyes light up, and he runs a hand over his mouth, like he’s trying to conceal a laugh. “Here, why don’t I just write my number down, and you can think it over? Text me if you want to, but no pressure.”
I stand there like a statue, unsure what to say. He reaches around me, pulling a pen from his back pocket and scribbling on a napkin from the nearby table. He hands it to me, fingers brushing mine as I take it. “Thanks.” I outwardly cringe at my response.
Thanks?Thanks?That’s what you say?
Eddie chuckles. “I’ll see you around, Whitney.” He gives a small wave to Brinley, which she gives a goofy grin in return, nuzzling her face into my neck.
