“It’s not my birthday.”
“Of course, it is.”
“Mom, my birthday is October twenty-eighth. Today is September twenty-ninth.”
There’s a pause on the other end. “Oh. Then who—? Oh, yes. That’s right, I always confuse your birthday with your grandfather’s. I guess I’d better call him, then.”
“How?” I ask without thinking.
“What’s that?”
“How, exactly, do you confuse your own child’s birthday with someone else’s?”
“Remi, there’s no need to be dramatic—”
“Right. Of course. I’m the dramatic one. As always. Have a good evening, Mom. You’d better call Grandpa. And don’t bother calling me on my actual birthday—if you remember at all. We’ll consider this your obligatory call.”
I hang up and let out a gusty breath. I should know her by now. I know that she’s just not good at things when it comes to me. She’s on top of it for her husband, for her other kids, but when it comes to me, I’m just an afterthought. She probably goes to my sister’s games to watch them cheer every single time.
I played basketball. She wrote a check for the fees and dismissed me. She didn’t even come to watch when we went to state, and that was a big deal.
I close my eyes, shake my head, and make myself loosen my shoulders, blowing out a gusty breath.
“Don’t let her ruin your evening. She’s already forgotten the whole thing.”
There’s a knock, so I rub my lips together and then open the van’s sliding door, feeling a grin spread clear across my face.
Seth is also in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, the color of ripe cranberries. His dark hair is still damp from a shower, and his ridiculously handsome face is clean-shaven.
I want to get my hands on him.
I want to sink my teeth into him.
“You’re stunning,” he says at last and shyly holds out a small bouquet of sunflowers for me. “I didn’t steal these, by the way.”
“Good to know.” I smile down at the happy blooms, then turn away to quickly put them in a pitcher of water. With my wallet and keys tucked inside a small handbag, I step outside with Seth and pull the van’s door closed, then make sure it’s locked. “You look great, too. We look like we could pose for a fall spread in a magazine.”
He looks down at both of us and then snickers. “You definitely do. But I’m no fashion model.”
He’s wrong. He’s gorgeous. Better-looking than half of the people in LA, trying to hit it big.
He opens the door of his truck for me, and I climb in. Soon, we’re off into town.
“Do you have a curfew?” he asks as he pulls out onto the main highway that leads into Cunningham Falls.
I laugh, but when I glance his way, I see that he’s being totally serious.
“No, no curfew.”
“Good. You may not make it home tonight. Just thought I’d warn you.”
I raise a brow, but he just keeps driving as if we’re talking about something mundane like what kind of toppings we like on our pizza.
“Perhaps I should have packed a bag?”
“I have everything you’ll need.”
Before I can ask any questions, Seth parks his truck in front of Ed’s Diner. “I haven’t eaten here yet, but it’s been on my list.”
“I hope you’re hungry and that you don’t have a problem with greasy burgers and fries. Because this isn’t a health food place,” Seth says with a grin.
“I’m okay with all of that.”
He nods, jumps out of the truck, and hurries around to open my door. He takes my hand, links his fingers with mine, and leads me inside.
“Hi, Shirley,” he says to the waitress, who greets us. “Two of us tonight.”
“Sure, hon. Take that booth over there.” She points to the far side of the room. “I’ll be right over to take your orders.”
“Thanks,” Seth says and leads me through the restaurant. It’s an old-fashioned diner, the kind with a long, white counter that seats at least a dozen people on glossy, red-topped stools. I can see into the kitchen where an older man bustles about in a white apron, filling orders.
The white tables sit on a black-and-white-tiled floor, and the chairs have the same red seats as the stools. The booths match, as well.
“Is that an authentic jukebox?” I ask and point to the corner where a colorful jukebox is lit up with vinyl records hung on the wall above it.
“It still plays,” Seth confirms.
“This place is something out of a movie.” I pick up the menu that sits tucked behind the ketchup against the wall and immediately feel my mouth water. “And I might gain fifteen pounds tonight. I’m not sorry about it.”
Seth laughs, and I notice that he doesn’t bother to look at the menu. Before long, Shirley circles around and pulls a pad and pen out of her apron.
“What can I getcha?” she asks.