CHAPTER15
~ MILLIE ~
I watch Bo slide the last pie crust into our refrigerator, then glance at the mess we left behind tonight.
“Bo, why don’t you head home? I’ve got this.”
One eyebrow rises on his forehead. “You sure?”
“Yeah. I need to do a little bookkeeping today anyway.”
“I’m betting this August will be a record breaker.”
“Thanks to your good cooking,” I point out.
“Nah. I think it’s more those social media posts you do. I’ve been here a long time, kiddo. Can’t imagine what this place could be if you took the reins after Labor Day. Just saying.”
I simply smile in reply. “See you in the morning, Bo,” I tell him as he heads to the door.
“Lock up behind me,” he reminds me.
“On my way.”
I fasten the deadbolt and then turn to look at the diner. It’s so peaceful here. When it’s empty like this, I can’t help the ideas that pop into my head.
The place desperately needs a fresh coat of paint and new upholstery on the booths and counter chairs. And even though I like the traditional diner vibe, it seems a little too cold, especially if I’d want to draw more people in during the dinner hours.
I shake my head. Every time I’m alone in here, I dare to envision this place as so much more than it already is. I want to take risks with it. I love our tried-and-true menu of traditional diner fare, but I’d love to change a few things just enough from time to time that the place will have that element of surprise.
I want this place. I want to make it my own.
But then I think about all the people on our payroll, especially in the summer, and the weight of it snaps me back to reality.
It was hard when I got fired. But it was even harder thinking of the others who were laid off at the same time, after we lost our most lucrative client. That guilt still weighs me down. I can’t even imagine how I would feel if I bought this place and then needed to close it.
The people here—they’re like family to me. I honestly don’t know how Harriet is handling the idea of closing this place, but I suppose after thirty years of running it, she can at least remind herself that her retirement is well-deserved.
After wiping down the flour-speckled prep counter and making the kitchen sparkle again, I sit and enjoy the serenity around me. I ran home a couple hours ago to give Junie a break, so I’m not in a rush.
Funny how I don’t think that on the weekends when Dax is at home waiting for me.
Dax.
I feel that flutter I’ve become accustomed to these past weeks. As my mouth curves contentedly at the memory of paddleboarding with him last weekend, I can’t help comparing this summer to last summer.
Back then, I wasn’t asking Harriet for afternoons off. I wasn’t rushing home after work on the weekends just so I could see his warm smile greeting me. I wasn’t waking up even earlier than I normally do all so that I can train for a half marathon I’ve always wanted to run.
And I sure wasn’t feeling this hint of dread that seems to grow as I fall deeper and deeper into a pool of warm-fuzzies. Because after Labor Day, he’ll be gone according to the rules we agreed on.
The rulesIwrote, and now would happily toss out the window if I could just get beyond the idea of him disappearing on me the same way Harris has.
I wonder what the likelihood of that is. I know Dax said he’d be in more danger if he deployed than my brother is right now. Those words are exactly what keep me building up this wall around me even as he seems to crumble it with each weekend we spend together.
But maybe I’m worrying about something that barely ever even happens. Maybe Rangers don’t deploy as often as Harris did when he was a SEAL. I don’t really know much about his branch of Special Ops. The Army is completely foreign to me. Maybe I’m making a mountain out of a mole hill, as my mom always says.
I snort. “Dream on,” I mutter to myself.
I pull my phone out of my pocket. I usually answer it when it rings, just in case it’s something having to do with my brother. But I ignore the calls that look like spammers.