“Too bad, so sad.” He reached across the table, his finger landing on the item listed under house specials. “Try the Elvis.”
“The... Elvis?” She adjusted her glasses with a confused frown. The unconscious gesture detonated something in his chest because apparently his specific kink was Her Doing Literally Anything. The glasses, the way she analyzed a menu like it was a fascinating puzzle, her whole hot-librarian aesthetic—it was all unbearably hot in a way that felt personally crafted to wreck him.
He slumped back in the vinyl booth, spreading his arms wide with a grin he hoped passed for casual. “Guess you could say it’s the King of sandwiches.”
“A grilled peanut butter, banana, and bacon sandwich?” She cocked an eyebrow, lips twitching. “My arteries just filed a restraining order. I think I’ll go with the homemade peach cobbler and coffee instead.”
After they put in their orders with a waitress who apparently cosplayed Betty Boop, Gale’s gaze drifted back to the salt and pepper shakers on the long shelf above their table. A quiet “aw” escaped him.
“What’s up?” She turned, following his line of sight.
“See those,” he muttered, jutting his chin in a reverse nod. “They look like Biscuit and Deke.”
Harriet followed his line of sight to a pair of salt and pepper shakers shaped like two orange kittens.
“Who are Biscuit and Deke?” She glanced back, realization dawning. “Wait, did you name the kittens?” He gave a tentative nod. “And does this mean you’re accepting your fate as a proud cat dad?”
“I guess so.” Gale felt his ears warm slightly. He hesitated for a moment, then decided to drop his guard a bit more. “Okay, don’t tell anyone, but...” His gaze shifted from the ceramic kittens to trace the graceful line of her profile. “I’ve got a soft spot for small, cute things.” The words came out softer than he’d intended, and he couldn’t quite bring himself to look away from how the light caught the curl of her hair.
Her smile disappeared like someone turning off a light switch as an internal guard went up, her expression going on lockdown. “So anyway, we’d be better to pivot to business.” She drummed her pink-polished nails on the table. “What E.M.M.A. has been saying...”
He listened, mentally cringing at his own misguided attempt at... whatever that had been. Of course she’d want to keep thingsprofessional. He pushed down the urge to apologize—that would only make it more awkward—and tried to focus on her explanation about E.M.M.A., until the actual content of her words finally registered.
“Let me get this straight: Your AI thinks I need a love life?” Gale interrupted, flicking the chrome napkin dispenser in the table’s center. “Come on.”
She fixed him with a stern look that sent an unexpected tremor down his spine. Without breaking eye contact, she reached into her purse and pulled out a tablet, tapping her screen. “This is harsh, but I want to be clear what’s at stake here.”
The home page revealed a list of trending news, his photograph beneath damning headlines. Gale winced as he read them.
Knight Falls: Benched for Another Game
From Star to Scratch
Regals Hit with a Gale of Disappointment: Knight Posts Career-Low Numbers
“Thanks, but I think I’m well aware I’m in a slump.” He sank lower in the booth, shoulders tight with defensiveness. “And come on, you can’t seriously think my love life—or lack thereof—is affecting the game. That’s ridiculous.”
The Betty Boop waitress returned, refilling their coffee without asking. Gale nodded gratefully, wrapping his hands around the warm ceramic, wishing some heat would leach into his hands.
Harriet waited until the waitress was out of earshot before leaning in, her voice low and commanding. “When was the last time you had a real conversation with someone that didn’t involve hockey? Talked about feelings? Hopes? Dreams?”
He wanted to say “with you,” but something told him that would go down like a lead balloon, especially after his earlier misstep. His eyes drifted around the diner, past chrome and neon, searching for an answer that wouldn’t make him sound pathetic. The LOVE IS ALL YOU NEED sign in the window flickered, as if mocking him.
“Brooke,” he said finally. “I have my sister.”
“You check in on your favorite new—and only—nephew, not yourself.” Harriet stirred creamer into her coffee with deliberate slowness, the spoon making soft circles against porcelain. “Remember, I talk to Brooke more... and hear all. Try again.”
He swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of Harriet’s intense gaze. He fumbled with a spoon, nearly dropping it. “I... I can’t remember,” he admitted quietly, the words tasting bitter.
“That’s what I thought.” She set her spoon down with a soft clink. “Now, let’s discuss the fix.”
Gale spread his elbows on the tabletop, his forehead nearly touching the tacky Formica. “Fix what, exactly? I’m not doing the dating app thing. And right now I have to figure my gameplay out.”
“I trust E.M.M.A. and you trust me.” Harriet gestured to the headlines again, her tone brooking no argument. The professional distance in her voice made his earlier moment of vulnerability feel like a lifetime ago. “This is your path.”
Gale sighed, running a hand over his face before stacking jam packets. The aroma of frying bacon suddenly felt like too much—he wanted fresh air. He didn’t want to do this, but he also didn’t want to let Harriet down. “Alright, alright, I’ll give it a shot. But I swear, if this ends up in some cheesy tabloid...”
Harriet laughed, the sound bright against the backdrop of clinking silverware and sizzling griddles. “Just do what E.M.M.A. says. Got it?”
