“What?” I placed a hand on her forearm. “No, I’m happy to be here.”Especially since Landon isn’t here.“I was sorry to hear about your husband.”
The words felt inadequate, but I needed to say them. It seemed like the only thing I could offer.
Aimee’s smile faltered for a second, her eyes flickering away as if she needed a moment to brace herself. She placed her hands on the counter, smoothing the edge of the surfaceabsentmindedly. “Thank you.” Her voice was steady, but a shadow of sorrow lingered in her eyes.
She looked back up at me, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “I’m trying to rebuild this place in his memory,” she continued. “It was always his dream to open it up again after the fire, to make it a place where people could come and feel at home.” Her gaze softened as she glanced around the diner, almost as if she could see him there, beside her. “I guess in a way, it’s my way of keeping him with me.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat, the weight of her words settling on me. A deep tenderness coated her words, a mix of grief and love that I wasn’t sure I could fully understand, but I could feel it in the way she spoke about him.
“That’s beautiful,” I murmured, my voice quiet but sincere. “I’m sure he would be proud.”
She nodded slowly, her hands still on the counter, her fingers absently tracing the grain of the wood. “I like to think so,” she said softly. “He worked so hard to make this place something special. And I’ll be damned if I let it slip away.”
“Can I ask you something?” I ventured, hesitating slightly.
Aimee raised her brows, a gentle encouragement to go ahead.
“How did you know Mason was the one for you?” I asked, my tone softer now, laced with unexpected curiosity.
She met my gaze, her expression thoughtful for a moment as she considered the question. A nostalgic glint appeared in her eyes.
“I don’t know if there was one moment that made me realize,” she said wistfully. “But there were little things, like the way he’d always keep a spare key to the diner in his coat pocket, just in case I ever lost mine. Or how he’d leave notes for me in the mornings when I was running late for work. He knew when I needed a hug or to be pushed. Small things, you know?” Shepaused, her countenance softening. “I guess when you find someone who truly sees you, flaws and all, and loves you for it…you just know.”
“Sounds like it was a real partnership,” I said, my voice a little distant as I thought about my lack of successful relationships.
Aimee nodded, her smile growing a tad sadder. “It was. And even though he’s gone, I still feel him here. I think I always will.”
“If you ever need anything from me…” I left it as an open invitation.
“Thank you, dear. You always had a generous heart.” She cleared her throat and took our empty mugs behind the counter. “Now you go back into that world and show that asshole that you don’t need him.”
A gentle eye roll accompanied my laugh. “Sure thing. Have a good night, Aimee.”
“You too, Kira.”
I headed home, warmed by coffee and conversation, without a plan to contact Xavier. If anything, I expected an apology text from him by the time I made it back to the apartment.
Instead, the only text I received was a link from the one person I attempted to avoid thinking about all night.
Landon: The Chicago Echo Studio art residency is accepting applications for its next cohort. I think you should consider applying.
6
LANDON/KIRA
Landon
The second I pushed open the door to the CCC, that familiar pit settled in my stomach. You’d think the nerves and hesitation would go away by now, but I guess there’s no timeline for getting used to seeing the girl you never really got over. Especially when she can barely stand to look at you.
My boots echoed against the tile as I walked toward the classroom, the same one we’d been assigned to last week. I’d spent ten minutes in my car, trying to decide if coming back was the right call. In the end, I figured the kids deserved consistency, even if my relationship with Kira was fragile.
As I turned the corner, I heard her voice through the door. She spoke in a quiet tone, steady, trying too hard to sound casual.
“—can’t make an exception?”
I paused, my hand hovering near the doorframe.
Inside, Mary, the woman who ran the volunteer program, gave a polite little laugh. “Kira, we’ve talked about this. We always assign at least two volunteers per class for safety reasons. You can’t teach alone.”
