Finding Home at Randy’s (Diner Days)

Chapter 2

The Child

Can I order DoorDash?

Graeme

No. I went shopping yesterday, there’s plenty of food.

The Child

There’s nothing I want. Please? I’ll mow the front AND back yards this weekend

Graeme

I bought you like 500 snacks. Go eat something we have

The Child

Cat sitting next to a half-empty food bowl Gif

Graeme

You’re not starving

The Child

Wasting away

Graeme

Drama llama Gif

The Child

It was nice knowing you. Imma go die of starvation now…

Graeme

You do that

W hen no other text comes through, I assume he’s either gone to clear out the snack cabinet or expired from hunger. Deciding it’s best to send a warning along to Rory anyway, I switch text threads.

Graeme

Your son is not allowed to order food

Partner in Crime

Got it. Did he pull the starving card?

Graeme

You know it

Partner in Crime

Who thought it was a good idea to have a teenager?

Graeme

You’re the one who knocked me up, so I’m blaming you.

Partner in Crime

Course you are

Gotta go, headed into a meeting. See you later

Graeme

Salute Gif

Putting my phone down, I look back at my screen and groan. Myles chuckles from across the table.

“Working hard over there, I see,” he teases.

“Why couldn’t I decide to write alien smut?” I grouse. “That sounds so much better than having to remember all the world-building I did for the previous book; past me was a dick.”

Myles snorts. “You didn’t write anything down?”

“That’s the thing; I did, but the way my brain works, I can’t keep too detailed notes, otherwise I get bored. That’s not the problem. No, my dumbass decided a continuous series would be a good idea. Which means I need to mesh all of the plots together, and somehow have it still make sense.”

“You’re right,” Myles deadpans, “Past you is a dick.”

“Thanks.” Reaching for my mug, I whine in sadness when I realize it’s empty. “Remind me again why we’re not allowed to keep a carafe at the table?”

“Something about Zo not knowing CPR and being unwilling to let us have heart attacks.”

Sighing, I look around for one of the waiters to signal for a refill, when someone across the room catches my eye. My search for caffeine is forgotten for a moment as I watch the person quickly turn and drop their head down, as if embarrassed at being caught.

I noticed them when I got up to use the restroom a few minutes ago—I had to pass their table on my way through—and in that split-second glimpse, I could see how adorable they are.

Red hair, pale skin that probably flushes easily, and a build that appears similar to mine: slim but not too thin, though I’m guessing I have about twenty pounds on them—thanks pregnancy and c-section. They’re sitting with Ivy, one of the former waitresses, so if I really wanted to, I could get up and go introduce myself under the guise of catching up with her, but that may be a little bit too overwhelming.

The more I watch them, the more I see how they fidget in their seat. They don’t look my way again, but their gaze constantly roams around the room before turning back to Ivy. I can’t tell from the angle and distance, but they don’t seem like someone who’s uncomfortable with their surroundings, more just unsure. I’d like to think I’ve people-watched enough over the years to pick up cues like that, at least.

“You know,” Myles drawls, “You could go introduce yourself.”

I glare at him over our computer screens. “Oh, you mean like you did to Avery?”

He makes a face. “Th–that’s different! Avery is all… Avery!”

I laugh because that…both does and does not make sense, but then, that sums up Myles perfectly.

Before I can respond, Henry sashays his way over. “You’re looking a bit lost, hun,” he says before filling my mug.

I whimper. “You’re my favorite.”

“Uh-huh,” he hums. “Need anything else?” We both decline, and he refills Myles’s mug as well before walking off with a swing of his hips, humming some song I can’t name.

Taking a sip of my coffee, I look at my screen and grimace, quickly highlighting the last thing I wrote and deleting it in one fell-swoop. All signs are pointing to me doing the one thing I’ve been trying to avoid: I have to re-read my own book, so I can better get a handle on what the fuck I’m doing.

Calling the day a wash, I save what I have and shut my laptop.

“You leaving?” Myles asks.

“Yeah, I’m not getting anywhere right now. I should go and make sure my kid hasn’t perished from starvation.”

Myles snorts. “You should have brought him with you; everyone likes it when Callum’s around.”

“Yeah, but my wallet doesn’t,” I say. “Having a teenager is expensive. It’s like he woke up with a blackhole instead of his stomach one day. We should probably have him checked for a tapeworm.”

Myles cackles. “Don’t kids like pets?”

“Fuck off.” I roll my eyes, but can’t stop the laugh that escapes. That’s one I’m going to have to tell Rory later.

Packing up my stuff, I make my way to the counter and pay for my coffee and the toast I don’t remember actually eating—writing brain is fun .

Sneaking one last look at the redhead, I’m pleased to find them looking at me. It’s a nice boost to the ego when I spend most of my days locked either in my house or here, wearing nothing but what’s cleanest on a good day.

On my way out the door, I come face to face with another good-looking person, only this one is more familiar to me.

“Hey.” Denver smiles, their hazel eyes brightening as our eyes lock.

“Hi, it’s been a while since I last saw you.”

They shrug. “Got switched to nights for a while. You leaving already? It’s early in the day for you, isn’t it?”

“Not getting any work done. I’ve gotta go make sure Cal hasn’t eaten his two-week snack stash in an hour, and I'll probably convince Rory to buy us dinner. Anyway, I’m sure you’re exhausted and hungry.”

Denver laughs. “I look that good, huh?”

My face heats, and I hope my cheeks aren’t red. “You uhhh, you don’t look that bad .” I wince. “Sorry.”

They have the good grace not to laugh at me. “You’re fine. I won’t hold you up anymore, though.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you have better things to do, like eating food and not just smelling it from the doorway.”

Denver grins at me. “But I like talking to you.”

Butterflies flutter in my stomach, and the feelings are almost like I’m a teenager again: chaotic and new, and making my insides quiver. The last time I felt like this, I married the guy that invoked the feelings and had a kid with him.

“Then we’ll have to catch up sometime, because I like talking to you, too.”

“Great, I’ll see you later?”

“You will.” I smile at them and hold the door open wider, letting them pass me to get into the diner, while forcing myself not to look over my shoulder at them.

Taking a breath, I let the door go and step away before it hits me in the ass. Shrugging my bag higher on my shoulder, I head down to my car, thinking that while I may have struck out with the words today, at least I got to admire not one, but two cute faces.