Page 84 of Romancing Summer


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“Is Millie around?” I ask Harriet, taking a seat at the counter. At just past eighteen hundred hours, the diner’s pretty quiet because Millie is right when she had said that people want a drink at the end of the day.

“Nope. Should be in a few minutes though. She just ran to Frankie’s to get a coffee because the kind we serve here isn’tfrou-frouenough for your generation,” she quips.

I chuckle. “I’m on your side, Harriet. Coffee shouldn’t be dessert.”

Her eyes sparkle as she gives me a wink. “Just for that, I’m giving you your pie for free today.”

She’s already got it ready for me—on a plate this time, rather than the to-go box I usually get.

Between that, and the look in her eyes, I feel like I’m about to get a talking-to.

“So, you and Millie,” she begins. “You seem to make her pretty happy.”

“Uh, yeah.” Millie didn’t want to be too showy about this thing between us—this thing she won’t call dating—or she’d end up with unwanted sympathy when I leave. Sure, I get to kiss her at Frankie’s when we get coffee or on the beach or even sometimes in front of her house. But not in her workplace.

I guess I get that.

“She’s a good housemate,” I say casually.

She snorts and replies in a quiet voice, “Is that what you kids call it these days? In my day, we called it a relationship.”

I smile, somehow liking that she’s figured it out on her own and cared enough about Millie to pretend she doesn’t know.

“Look, I understand why she’s not wanting more with you. That brother of hers—” She shakes her head. “—his injury affected her just like it did him. Maybe not as much. But just because you can’t see the injury, doesn’t mean it’s not there.”

“Wiser words were never said, Harriet,” I agree, thinking of all the Soldiers I’ve known who struggle with PTSD.

“I can tell she wants more from you, though.”

I shake my head, feeling like my honor is almost at stake. “I can’t push her into something that makes her uncomfortable. It’s not right.”

“But doyouwant more?”

“Geez, Harriet, I love the pie here. But not enough to eat it as often as I’m in here buying some. So you can kind of guess how I feel about her.”

Her thin lips curve upward. “I thought so.”

“But I’m probably deploying this fall. Soon. Hell, her brother is probably laying the groundwork for what my battalion will have to finish off. How can I ask her to worry about me the way she does about him?”

She walks around the counter, sits on the stool next to me, and we face-off.

“I’m going to tell you something no one else in here except Bo knows,” she begins.

Despite her quiet tone, I hear a grunt from Bo in the kitchen. That guy hears everything; I’d swear it.

“I’m not retiring because I want to,” she tells me. “I’m retiring because my husband’s going blind.”

My face falls. “Harriet, I’m so sorry.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t be. He’s still in the early stages, but it’s inevitable. So we’ve got a lot of things we want to see together. Going to check them all off his list before it’s too late. He’s my second husband, you know. I just married him two years ago. We should still be in the honeymoon stage. But we’re not. And that’s okay. It stinks. But it’s okay. My first husband died of cancer.” Her lips purse thoughtfully for a moment. “My point is, neither one of my husbands was in the military. One managed the Target just off the highway. And my husband now owns a septic company.Septic, Dax. There’s nothing more stable and reliable than a career based on the fact that people shit.”

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, I can’t help bursting out with a laugh.

“Yet here I am, worrying about him, just like I was with my last husband. Just like I will with anyone I love. I like that you don’t want to cause her to worry. But that’s just part of life. And she’ll realize that eventually. The only question is whether you’ll still be around when she figures it out.”

I hear the chimes behind me and turn to see Millie standing in the doorway with her tall, whipped cream-topped cup, looking apprehensive. Her gaze moves from me, to Harriet, back to me, and then Harriet again.

“Why do I feel like people are talking behind my back?” she asks, a grin rising to her cheeks.

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