“Your hair looks good,” I say quickly, realizing that I’m staring at her like an idiot while my treacherous heart slams against my ribs. Does she hear it? Does she know that, after all this time, all this distance I put between us, it still beats for her?
“Thanks.” She reaches up and touches it with one hand while the other holds onto a folder. “Um, hope you’re well.”
Hope you’re well.
Seven years of friendship summed up in three words. All because I was too much of a coward to tell her how I felt before she met FBI Agent Jack Weathers. Now, she’s nearly eight months into a relationship with him, and I’m only waiting for a diamond ring to appear on her finger, driving the final nail into my coffin.
Losing her forever will kill me.
But as long as she’s happy, it’s a death I’ll walk toward in silence.
“Yeah. You, too,” I reply, the words vile on my tongue.
Anastasia forces a smile, then turns and heads down the street toward her coffee shop. I watch her walk away, the sundress straps leaving most of the olive-toned skin of her shoulders bare.
Walking away from her six months ago was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
That includes getting shot, stabbed, and walking headfirst into danger whenever the government ordered it so. Truth is, I’d go through everything all over again if it meant I’d have a chance to tell her the truth.
To tell my best friend that I am absolutely head over heels in love with her and have been since the moment we met.
But I can’t go back. And now she’s with him.
With a deep breath, I force my attention away from her and head into the diner. The smell of food makes my stomach growl as I pull the door open and step inside. The place isn’t busy, which makes sense, given the late lunch hour. It’ll be bustling in a few hours as the dinner crowd comes running, though.
“Hey, Sawyer!”
“Hey, Maddie. Good day?” As usual, her greying hair is pulled back in a tight bun, and her diner uniform is crisp as the moment she put it on. Not much rattles her, that’s for sure.
“God woke me up this morning, so I’d say so.” She flashes a smile as she stops in front of the barstool I take at the counter. “Your usual?”
“You know me so well. Tell me, when are you going to run away from Ed and marry me already?”
Maddie throws her head back and laughs, and her husband Ed rolls his eyes as he steps out of the kitchen.
“You’d better check yourself, kid. There’s a lot of fight left in this old man.”
Grinning, I put up my fists. “Let’s go then.”
“You boys.” Maddie, fresh color on her cheeks, turns away and heads into the kitchen while Ed leans back against the counter.
“How’s the work on that old Pontiac of yours going?” I ask him. Over the past few weeks, I’ve been popping over to his house to help him get his dad’s old 1967 Pontiac GTO running. Just a fun project to keep my mind off the woman I have no business thinking of. But with work picking up, it’s been a few days since I was able to check in.
“Eh, it’s getting there. The original carburetor is not cooperating.”
“What’s going on?”
“When it actually turns over, the entire car shakes like it’s scared to go outside. I may need to get a new one.”
I can see the hit reflected on his aging face. Ed wanted to keep as much of the original intact as possible to honor his dad’s memory. The two of them worked on it nearly all of Ed’s life. “Bring the carburetor by the shop later, and I’ll see what I can do. Might just need to be taken apart and cleaned. My treat,” I add, knowing that his budget is one of the reasons he didn’t just have me do the restore in the first place.
“I can’t ask you to do that,” Ed says.
“You’re not asking. I’m offering. Besides, you’ll be doing me a favor. Taking things apart is my favorite pastime.” I grin at him. “Seriously, Ed, I don’t mind.”
“Thank you so much,” he says, smile beaming. “Lunch is on us.”
“No, you don’t need to do that.”
