“I have eyewitness testimony.”
“You’re biased.”
“I’mobservant.”
“You’re a menace.”
“You like it.”
He doesn’t deny it. Just shakes his head and turns up the radio.
The diner is perfect—checkered floors, red vinyl booths, a waitress named Dolly who clearly adores Lucas. She’s maybe sixty, with silver hair and rhinestone glasses, and she beams when we walk in.
“Dr. Price! Haven’t seen you in ages.” She looks at me with obvious curiosity. “And who’s this?”
“Friend from high school,” Lucas says.
“High school friend, huh?” Her eyes sparkle with speculation. “Well, any friend of the doc’s is a friend of mine. He fixed my hip, you know. Couldn’t barely walk before. Now I do yoga.”
“She does not do yoga,” Lucas mutters as she leads us to a corner booth.
“I do chair yoga! It counts!”
She seats us with a view of the mountains and leaves menus we don’t need.
“Let me guess,” I say. “Turkey sandwich, hold the mayo, extra pickles.”
Lucas blinks. “How?—”
“You’ve ordered the same thing since you were fourteen.”
“It’s a good sandwich.”
“It’s a boring sandwich.”
“I like consistency.” He straightens the menu he’s not going to read, lining it up with the edge of the table.
“You like being predictable.”
“Predictable is underrated. Predictable means people can count on you.”
“Predictable means you’ve never lived.”
“I’ve lived plenty.”
“Have you?” I lean forward, elbows on the table. “When’s the last time you did something spontaneous?”
He’s quiet for a moment, thumb running along the edge of his water glass. “I chased you across a frozen creek three hours ago.”
“That’s a start. What about before that?”
“I...” He trails off. “I went to that new Thai place last month.”
“Lucas. Going to a new restaurant is not spontaneous.”
“I didn’t make a reservation.”
“Oh my god.”
