“Serious as a heart attack.” I pop my lid open and grab my first wing, but I hold it for a second as I finish my thought. “I never planned to open it. I just didn’t want to see something so full of the town’s history get leveled into condos. I guess that’s what happens when you get old. You start caring about things that have history.” I let out a chuckle seeped with nostalgia.
“That isn’t about getting old. I am the same way. I love vintage things. They seem to be built with more heart. Thus, why I have a whole wall in my diner devoted to all the things.”
“You know, I don’t recall any photos of this place on your wall…”
Her head tips to the side, as if she’s thinking. “I don’t think there are any. I have never been out here.”
“We can’t have that. Your wall should have all of Mapleton’s most important history. We need to grab one some time.”
“That’s a great idea.” She wipes her fingers with a napkin and leans back in the seat. “You know, when Noah was younger, we’d eat in the car a lot, especially during tournaments. It was sometimes the only way to get a meal between games. It’s crazy how fast that time flew by. Now it feels like it’s been forever since we did that. There’s just something different about the way a car meal hits.”
“I eat in my car all the time.”
She looks at me, half-skeptical.
“Why does that surprise you?” I pause and wipe my fingers.
“It seems like your life would be a little too fancy for that.”
“Ha.” I throw my head back and toss up an exaggeratedly loud laugh. “My life is far from fancy. In fact, my life maybe was a lot like yours and Noah’s, growing up on hockey. I used to sit in parking lots with my buddies after practice. We’d dig in the seatsfor enough change to get fries and then listen to the radio for hours, as we all wondered why we never had girlfriends yet.”
That earns a loud laugh. “I have a hard time believing that.”
“It’s true.” I tip my head to the side and add, “Well, when I think about it, the lack of dates might have been due to our obsession with hockey. There wasn’t much time for anything else, especially when my goal was always to make it to the NHL.”
“So, you didn’t date at all in high school?”
“Oh, I did…” My words drop off as I weigh the words that come next. I used to hate talking about Lacey, but today it barely gives me a pause as I say, “Remember, I shared with you how I had my first love, and she broke my heart when she ran off with my best friend. After that, I was over being serious about a girl, but I had fun being not serious with lots of girls.”
“That’s too bad, but in a way, that’s sort of my story too. I had my one, and then I didn’t…Though, I didn’t go out with lots of men after that ended.”
We eat in comfortable silence, passing the wings back and forth between plastic containers, dipping sauces balanced on the dashboard. Outside, the snow keeps falling.
“Did you ever try those burritos at the truck stop by my diner?” she asks when she’s finished the last of her wings. Her eyes narrow as if she’s about to disclose a horror story.
“Yeah.” I lean forward, grinning. “One time when we were on a bus trip home from a game. It was amazing going down. I’d like to think I blocked it out, but I clearly remember being in the bathroom for two days.”
She groans as she shakes her head in comradery. “It was the best of times eating it, and the worst of times removing it.”
I laugh so hard I grab my chest to steady my breath. “I have to admit, I never thought you’d be one to make a joke like that.”
“Oh, please. There is no joke about it.”
I can’t help but stare at her. I’d like to think it’s me who makes her cheeks flush like that, but it’s likely the wing sauce. She’s undone the buttons on her coat, making her appear relaxed and at ease being with me.
She’s beautiful like this.
And my chest tightens.
Not with nerves.
It’s that sensation I get whenever she’s around. As happy as I was, I didn’t realize I was missing this, whatever you call it—doing everyday things with someone. Suddenly, it doesn’t feel so ordinary.
I finish the last of my wings and take a moment to gather all the trash back into the bag and then return the bag to the back seat. She leans back in the seat, her breath fogging the window. “So,” she says, her voice quieter now. “Why do you think you’re still in Mapleton?”
I hike my finger over my shoulder, pointing to the empty sack of wings we just devoured. “Did you not just eat those wings?”
She gives me avery-funny-but-give-me-the-truthlook. “You and all your businesses have clearly outgrown this little town.”
