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I don't answer. He's been there for me before, when I fell apart, but I don't want to keep relying on him. It sounds stupid even to me. I'll sleep in the man's bed, cuddling him like my very own stuffed animal, but I won't let him see me having a panic attack.
A long time later my cheeks are numb but my eyes are dry. I'm worn out. All I want is something warm to drink, and some food. And to get out of this car. The lights of the diner are inviting. Through the windows I can see a few tables of people laughing, and a few other solo diners, sipping their coffees and looking peaceful.
I'm going to get myself a slice of peaceful. And pie. Pie would be good.
At my request, the waitress seats me in the back corner and leaves me with a simple one page menu. Breakfast all day plus a few dinner staples fill the front, and a full drink and dessert menu covers the back. I order a hot chocolate to start, and after a few sips, get brave enough to check my phone. There are messages from Julia, apologizing. But there are even more from Nick, spanning the last forty-five minutes. I didn't realize I was sitting in the car that long.
I'm not ready to let Julia off the hook. But looking at Nick's increasingly worried texts, it's obvious I'm in the wrong. We had plans and I flaked on him, or so he thinks.
Nick: Bree! Where the fuck are you? Are you okay? Answer me please.
Me: I'm okay. I'm sorry. Had a bit of a rough patch. I'm fine.
His reply bubble pops up immediately.
Nick: Where are you?"
Me: At a diner. I'm just going to grab food here. C see you later.
Nick: Which diner?
I answer him, and when he doesn't reply, I drop my phone back into my bag. I've spent a lot of nights in places like this, taking up booths just like this one. In college, they were great places to study. Of course I went home and used the kitchen table, but whenever I did, Cara felt the need to cook for me. Cooking was always her first choice when she wanted to nurture me. I'll admit I could be a little prickly, so sometimes a hug or kind word was out of the question. But I never turned down a hot meal. I knew she was trying to love me, and I never threw that act of love away. But sometimes, I just didn't want to go home and have her watching me. I'd go to diners for the steady flow of drinks and food I didn't have to feel guilty for asking for.
The kind eyed waitress delivers my plate of breakfast. I raise my head and thank her, freezing when I spot Nick walking in the front door. Deep down in that lost place in my chest, did I hope he'd show up? Yeah. Did I actually think he'd leave his luxury apartment to come halfway across the city to find me?
Yeah, I did.
Somehow I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Nick was coming.
I watch him, giving myself a chance to admire the long lines of his body, the powerful shoulders and piercing gaze. And I notice the way other people look at him. He's not smiling or flirting, which isn't like him, but that doesn't seem to decrease the amount of attention women give him. From the high schoolers at the big booth at the front, to the white-haired lady on his left, everyone's looking. And admiring.
But Nick's not looking back. Instead, his piercing gaze is searching, scanning the booths systematically. I'm watching him look for me, my chest tight at the worry and anxiousness on his face. I'm sorry I put that look there, but I'm also really grateful to see it. To see how much he cares for me. I give him a little wave as his eyes lock on me and his entire body changes. His shoulders drop, his eyes soften, and the corner of his lips turn up. He doesn't hesitate, moving straight to me.
The intensity on his face makes it hard to breathe, so I pull my eyes away, and busy myself with wrapping the silverware then slide the mug and carafe of coffee I ordered him to the other side of the booth.
He stops at the table, staring down at me. I tip my head back and smile at him, so happy to see his face. "I got you coffee, but I wasn't sure what you were in the mood to eat. There's no Chinese, but the pancakes look epic." So epic I nixed my original pie plan and went for the breakfast platter.
His eyes shift, studying the table. He nods, shrugs out of his leather jacket revealing a tight black long sleeved T-shirt with Brash Auto logo on the left side of his chest, and hangs it up on the hook next to the booth. He's all smooth movement, no wasted motion with this man.
Then he's sitting, hands folded on the table, studying me. "What happened tonight Carino?"
Carino I repeat over and over in my head. I don't know what it means, but the way he says it makes me feel special. It could be the Spanish word for donkey for all I know. I don't really want to know if it is.
I busy myself spreading the butter on my pancakes. The waitress buys me a minute when she comes over to pour his coffee and take his order. His simple 'what she's having, triple the sausages' is delivered with a wink.
"Bree," he prompts when we're alone again.
"Someone from work did something that...upset me. I just needed some time to settle down, and I didn't want to drive while I was upset."
His eyes narrow, but he nods and tears open a little creamer cup. "I'm glad you got off the road. That's smart." He pours the creamer, and stirs it with a little side to side before resting the spoon on the table and taking a sip. "What did she do?"
Mesmerized watching him sip and swallow his hot coffee, don't bother hedging or hiding what happened. "A patient asked if I was single. She told him I was. She had no right to share anything about my personal life."
"She doesn't know that?"
"She does. She's been at the front desk for a while. She knows privacy for the staff and patients is required. She just...thought the guy was cute and figured I would be flattered, I guess."
He watches me over the rim of his cup, lips pressed into a tight line. "Are you? Flattered?"
