I weigh it. Roadside places are unpredictable. Cameras, crowds, too many exits, too many hands I don’t control. But she’s pale, running on fumes, and Lily hasn’t had anything but crackers and adrenaline since Boston.
“Next decent place,” I tell Nikolai.
“Got it,” he says.
Ten minutes later we pull into the parking lot of a roadside diner—chrome trim, faded sign, trucks lined up along the far edge. Inside, I can already see a couple of guys in work boots at the counter, a waitress with tired hair and a pot of coffee.
It’s the kind of place I usually avoid. Too open. Too many variables. No vetting, no prep, just humanity in all its unfiltered mess.
Bella unbuckles, checks Lily, and looks at the diner like it’s a lifeline. “This is fine,” she says.
It’s everything I don’t like.
But she’s here, hand on the door, and for once I follow her instead of leading.
“Stay close to me,” I say quietly.
She doesn’t reply.
The place is one of those family-friendly places with too-bright lights and plastic plants in the corners. Kids’ menus, paper crowns, laminated tables that have seen things. It smells like fries, sugar, and disinfectant.
Bella orders like someone who’s been running on fumes—burger, fries, soda. Chicken nuggets for Lily, apple slices, juice. Iget coffee and something that passes for food so I don’t unsettle Bella by just watching her eat.
We sit in a booth by the window. Lily is fascinated by the ketchup packets like they’re rare treasures. Bella actually takes a full bite of her burger and closes her eyes for a second, like this cheap, greasy food is the best thing she’s ever had.
I watch the door. The counter. The exits. Old habits.
We’re halfway through the meal when a shadow falls over the table.
“Excuse me,” a bright voice says. “You three look so cute, I just had to ask—do you want a picture for our wall? We do a ‘family of the week’ thing.”
She’s young, maybe early twenties, ponytail, name tag that says Maddie. She’s holding her phone and a little instant printer clipped to her apron.
Bella freezes, bite midair. I feel every muscle in my body go tight.
“No,” I say immediately.
Maddie blinks. “Oh! Totally fine, no pressure. We just?—”
“We’re not really—” Bella starts, flustered. “I mean, we’re not?—”
“Photogenic,” I cut in, trying to soften it.
Bella shoots me a look. “That’s not what I was going to say.”
Maddie smiles wider, oblivious. “You look pretty photogenic to me.” She leans in conspiratorially toward Bella. “Your husband’s kind of movie-villain handsome, you know?”
Bella chokes on her soda. I almost laugh.
“He’s not my husband,” she sputters. “We’re not—this isn’t?—”
I can see Maddie recalibrating. Her eyes flick from Bella to Lily to me. “Oh! Sorry. My bad. Just thought you guys looked…coordinated.”
“We’re not coordinated either,” Bella mutters.
Lily chooses this moment to look up, face covered in ketchup, and shout, “Papa!” because the universe hates me.
The waitress melts. “Okay, that was extremely cute,” she says. “Now I really want a picture. We can blur the kid’s face if you want. Or I just print it and give it to you. No wall, no social media, I swear.”
