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“Ha. Okay.”

“I already gave you Sexy Sax Boy,” he said. “Let me recover from the embarrassment of that first.”

“We do have all day…”

We smiled at each other. Something passed between us. A little spark maybe? That was not a good thing.

I wasn’t dating right now. The last boyfriend hadn’t gone well and I was just trying to finish up school and get out of this restaurant for good.

But I did like the dimple in his cheek. I liked his smile. He was funny too. And I liked that he played saxophone ironically more than I liked that he played it at all. A sense of humor always makes a man more attractive. Tate had zero sense of humor. Back then I was more into the brooding type, which turns out was actually just a bad mood.

The door chimed and I looked up to see the Millers come in. Mr. Miller led his wife to their usual table, his arm locked in hers.

This was the couple that always made me a little sad.

Mr. Miller was very devoted to his wife. They were both elderly. Probably in their eighties. Always together.

I wanted to be loved like that one day. As it stood, I wasn’t sure I had it in me to give men another chance. I couldn’t really trust that a guy wouldn’t steal my heart when the last one stole my cat.

“Regulars?” Zombie Santa Guy asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “The cooks automatically put in their order when they see the Millers.”

“What do they order?”

“A Spanish omelet split onto two plates with a side of fruit,” I said.

He nodded like this was the most interesting thing in the world. “What about the guys at the counter earlier?”

“Eggs, junkyard potatoes, and dry toast for Old Bob and oatmeal and a side of bacon for Computer Bob.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Do all the regulars have names?”

“Yup.”

He paused. “Do I have a name?”

I sucked air through my teeth. “You’re Zombie Santa Guy, unfortunately.”

He made a good-natured sound. “Perfect. My real name is Matty. I’m not actually a zombie. Or Santa. In case you’re wondering.”

“Oh. Well, thanks for clearing that up.”

“Will you tell me when there’s more regulars?” he asked.

I gave him a quizzical look. “Why?”

“Because I’m extremely bored and this is all I have.”

I laughed. “Okay. Yes, I will let you know when regulars come in.”

He nodded at the Millers. “How long have the Millers been eating here?”

I looked over my shoulder to watch Laci deliver their orange juice. Mr. Miller smiled up at her in his dated brown suit and tie.

“Since before my time.”

“Do they have any family?” he asked.