“Probably a diner that’s owned by Stella.” He nods up toward the sign.
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“Seems pretty clear that it is. You want to get home, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And you think Stella is responsible for us being here?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I think we need to try to talk to her—unless you’ve changed your mind about falling in love with me?”
I shake my head, and his chest moves as he laughs.
He grabs my hand again, but this time he doesn’t let go. Lacing his fingers with mine, he squeezes it, reassuring me it’s all going to be okay. “Plus, I’m sure there’s coffee.” He shrugs his shoulders and lifts one of his eyebrows. A nervous giggle bubbles out of me, and I nod.
“Together,” he says.
“Together,” I repeat, feigning confidence.
He swings the door open. The sound of a woman’s voice drifts by us and then abruptly stops as we step inside to meet no less than fifty people staring back at us with wide eyes.
The walls are painted a soft pink. Large white and black tile covers the floor in a checkered pattern. A matching border of smaller tiles forms a chair rail around the entire restaurant.
It’s completely decked out for the upcoming holiday. Garland and lights cover every inch of the ceiling. Ornaments in different sizes and shapes hang down, catching the light and refracting it in every direction. Pink Christmas trees are centered in front of both windows and decorated to match the rest of the space. Christmas music plays low over a speaker. It reminds me of one of those Christmas pop-up bars in the city.
Every chair and booth is full of people I’ve never seen before, except for the tall man we followed here. He removes his hat and tilts his head in our direction before placing it back on his head.
Two women I don’t recognize offer me a wave and a big smile, and I return the gesture, confused as to why anyone here would act like they know me.
“The man and woman of the hour,” a pink-haired woman at the front of the diner sing-songs. Her hair is cut into a short, choppy boband curled. A black knotted headband sits on top of her head. She’s wearing dark-wash bell-bottom jeans and a black top that shows a bit of the golden skin of her abdomen. A long, flowy, lightweight cardigan covered in silver stars grazes the floor when she moves. Chunky mixed metal jewelry hangs from her neck and wrists, clanging together as she gestures for us to walk forward. A star tattoo peeks out from under one of her sleeves. “Come in; come in. We just started talking about the Christmas Extravaganza.”
Everett steps in front of me as if he’s readying himself for some sort of attack, but despite how I felt before we walked in, I don’t feel in danger. It feels like we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be.
He leads me, hesitantly, toward where she stands. And I suppress a laugh because it’s clear this place is giving much more North Pole than Shutter Island vibes, so I seriously doubt anything bad is about to happen. But, nonetheless, him protecting me makes my heart skip a beat.
“Let’s hear it for this year’s king and queen of Sugarplum Park’s Annual Christmas Extravaganza,” the woman chimes.
The what?
Everyone stands and begins to clap and cheer. The two girls who waved at me are the loudest in the crowd.
Reaching forward, I grab ahold of Everett’s bicep and squeeze gently, causing his gaze to shift to mine. I offer an encouraging smile, and the tension he’s holding between his shoulder blades seems to dissipate a little.
“Okay, okay,” she says, quieting the crowd. “You two can sit right here.” She points to two empty high-back chairs situated to her left. In each chair sits a silk sash and a crown.
The applause fades, and I let go of Everett’s hand to move the items so I can sit.
“Put on the sash and crowns,” one of the women yells.
“Yeah, let’s see them,” the other calls.
Looking towards Everett, he shrugs.
“Let’s see it, you two,” the pink-haired woman says.
Pulling the sash over my head, my eyes scan the room once more.
