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It’sgood to see Millie. She fusses over me all day. I swear she’s like the cool aunt I never had. She’s also one of the wisest women I’ve ever met. Millie seems to see what others don’t. She often says, “We have to listen for what isn’t being said to understand the situation.” I didn’t get that at first, but I’m learning.
It’s as if all is back to normal when Vi and Ava drop in for chat. Not long after they leave, Camille drops in to pick up coffee and have a chat before heading back to the clinic. Izzy does the same, but when Abigail visits, she decides to stay for a while.
“I love this diner. It always feels like there’s a friend around the corner,” she says. I know what she means. The cook is a boisterous older man who reminds me of Santa Claus without the red suit. He comes out to laugh and gab with the customers and remembers all the little details about people’s orders. He’ll know that Jimmy is in the diner when the order comes through with a burger with chips on it. Then he’ll take the time to bring it out himself.
“I know what you mean,” I say, feeling the warmth that fills the place.
“Sometimes it’s easy to stay in a place because it feels comfortable. I know that I stayed hidden for so long because it made me feel safe. I missed out on so much because of my choices,” Abigail says, taking a sip of her tea.
I know her story, and the thought of what she went through makes me shudder. Abigail learned the hard way that evil lurks in many corners, even outside the library where she had worked for years. “You made it past the darkness, and here you are, back in the light,” I say brightly. She gives me a grin.
“I did. With the help of some amazing people who helped me through it. I think back on those days, and I really thought I was making the wisest choice. I stayed out of sight and away from people because I was afraid of getting hurt. The only person I was hurting was myself. I missed out on a year with Ghost. The best thing that could have happened to me was taking that leap of faith.” Abigail is sending me a message with this story. “I hope I haven’t overstepped. I think of you as a sister, Charlotte. Believe in yourself, because we all do.”
She doesn’t wait for me to respond and simply gets up, gives me a hug, and quietly leaves. Believe in myself? I do, don’t I? I’m happy. This is the first time in years that, despite the insanity surrounding me, I feel wanted and loved.
The rest of the day flies by. A couple of young girls from the local high school track me down at the diner as I’m ending my shift to ask about making a dress for one of them.
“My sister’s getting married in December, and I’m the maid of honor,” Tara says excitedly. The wedding’s in Florida, where my sister and her fiancé, Josh, live. It’s a beach wedding, and she doesn’t care about the style or color, just that the dress has to be long and flowy. “I went to see Vi, and she said that you’re the best around. When the dress is done, Vi’s going make one-of-a-kind earrings and a bracelet to match.” Tara is over the moon, and I am thrilled for her.
“I’d be honored to make your dress. You need to give me a budget, then we’ll head over to Fairway. They have the biggest outlet for textiles. Once you decide, then we can work on design. We’ve got plenty of time, but it’s always good to get the material early,” I tell her. I’m not sure how she’s doing it, but she smiles even brighter than before, and her friend Vanessa is squealing in delight.
“Maybe we can go next week?” she asks hopefully.
“Sure. Let me check my schedule here at the diner and I can give you dates.” Tara jots down her number before leaving arm in arm with her bestie. Freaking adorable.
As the girls walk out, Wildcard steps through the door. His mouth forms a sexy smile, and I peruse him from head to toe, remembering the way his firm hands held me, the feel of his thick, masculine thighs between mine. Or his chest, cut and lean, all muscle. But mostly, it’s the softness of his touch against my skin that makes my body tingle at the memory. I itch to have my hands in his wavy sandy-blond hair. I know men prefer being called ruggedly handsome, but to me he’s beautiful.
When he reaches the table, he pulls off his shades to uncover sultry blue bedroom eyes. Damn, I think I’m drooling.
“Dollface, you keep staring at me like that and we’re going to have a problem. Millie’s gonna come back out here and find you on your back on one of her tables,” he says with a smirk. That jolts me out of my stupor.
“Behave. I love Millie.” I give his chest a light tap.
“Everybody loves Millie,” he says. It’s true. Millie’s one of those people who just make you feel like you matter. She does this with everyone from truckers to accountants. As good as the food is, that’s not why people come here.
“You ready to head home?” he asks.
“Absolutely.” I call out to Millie to let her know I’m leaving.
“All right, sugar. Have a great night,” Millie says, then gives Wildcard a bag. “Made some fresh pecan butter tarts. Saved you some.” When Wildcard pulls out his wallet, she gives him an expression that would freeze ships in the ocean. “Don’t even think about it.”
“How are you going to stay in business if you keep giving stuff away?” he teases.
“I get you hooked, and you can’t resist coming back.” She laughs. Wildcard kisses her cheek. “Now that was payment enough.”
“Thank you, Millie,” he says. This isn’t a simple thank-you. There’s more meaning in those two words and a secret they both share. I’m curious, but I also don’t want to know because it’s their connection, and it seems so pure that it should remain with them.
Wildcard and I walk hand in hand to his car. Before he starts the vehicle, he grabs one of the butter tarts and inhales it. With his mouth full, he says, “Don’t judge.” Which comes out more like “dun jug.” This big badass biker with a mouthful of butter tart, hugging the bag to his chest like it’s a prized possession, is undoubtably the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.
I’ve never laughed this hard in my life.
* * *
Wildcard
Sofiaand her friend Mallory are making a trip out to look at the first draft of designs for a wedding dress. Charlotte and Mallory have video chatted several times. One night after one of their talks, Charli mentally disappeared into her drawings, solely focused on making the perfect dress for her bride.
Being ever the overachiever, Charli made a mockup of the dress she liked best in a rough form to get a sense if it would work. My goal is to feed my woman before they show up. While she’s showering the grime of the day away, I put a couple of potatoes and steaks on the barbecue.
