Over the past year, Briar Glenn had experienced a lot of growth thanks to the mayor’s revitalization initiative. It was a program that provided grants and incentives for relocating to the town or starting a business. And it was working.
Every month it felt like there were more and more unfamiliar faces, more homes being built, and more businesses popping up. While I generally wasn’t a fan of change, I was happy to see the town grow while still maintaining its charm.
A few waves and murmured hellos greeted me as I made my way to my favorite booth. It was tucked in the back corner, next to a vintage jukebox that had been there since the diner first opened. There was enough noise to drown out your conversation from listening ears, and the wide window gave you a clear view down Main Street for prime people watching.
No sooner had my ass touched the vinyl seat than a familiar voice cooed from the kitchen, “Is that my girl?”
One of the waitresses, Connie, who had known me since I was born, set a fresh fountain Sprite down in front of me. “Yeah, it’s her,” she shouted in her gravelly smoker’s voice, rolling her eyes.
The eye roll wasn’t for me—but for what happened next.
A squeal sounded from the kitchen, followed by the swinging doors bursting open to reveal my best friend and resident chef of the diner, Declan, rushing toward me with a plate of food in his hands.
Our parents were old friends, and it was decided that Dec and I would be friends before we were even born. From our first steps, to T-ball games, to our emo phase as teenagers, we did all of it together. I loved him just as much as—and at the present moment, more than—my own brother.
Dec was wearing his typical line chef uniform. A grease-splattered apron stretched across his chubby belly, and striped chef pants completely clashed with the tie-dye nonslip Crocs on his feet. A hairnet clung to his dark brown hair, and a special one covered his full beard.
He looked absolutely ridiculous. Like if Zach Galifianakis was moonlighting as a fry cook.
“Why don’t you just shave that thing off?” I asked, reaching for his beard.
Dec swatted my hand away. “No way. It makes me look rugged.” He slipped off the beard hairnet and ran his fingers through the thick bush sprouting from his face.
“You? Rugged?” It was hilarious considering I couldn’t even get Dec to go for a hike around the lake, let alone a camping trip.
“I will take this burger right back to the kitchen, missy,” he said, sliding the plate away from me. “No more comp meals for you.”
“No.” I grabbed his hand. “I need this today.”
Like me, he’d inherited the family business from his father,Dale. The one the diner was named after. For a long time Dec debated changing the name, but Declan’s Diner didn’t quite have the same ring to it. And all the locals would have still called itDale’sanyway.
“That’s what I thought.” My bestie shimmied into the booth, his brows pinching together as he stared at me. “Why so glum, chum? You’ve got this sour-ass look on your face.”
“I just got done putting the finishing touches on Jessica’s wedding cake.”
“Oh, that’s right. Little Miss Silver Spoon herself is getting married tomorrow.”
“Declan.” I swatted his arm, thankful no one could hear us over the classic rock ballad blaring from the jukebox.
“What?” He laughed. “An extravagant wedding and a brand-new house in Briar Lakes that her daddy paid for. Everyone knows she’s a spoiled brat.”
“Yeah, she is, but at least she found someone to spend her life with, even if he is a finance bro. That’s more than we can say.”
“Excuse me,” he said, affronted. “I’m single by choice.”
“Is a fear of commitment a choice?”
When we were in our early twenties, Dec had his heart broken by his first real boyfriend, and he’d never truly recovered from it. He acted like he preferred hookup culture, but I knew it was a defense mechanism. He was afraid of getting hurt again.
Dec ignored the question, strategically steering the conversation back to me. “What about that cute centaur couple that moved onto your street?”
“Dec!” I snorted. “They’re married.”
He shrugged. “Throuples are a big thing these days. You could be their unicorn in a more literal sense.”
I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t sure I could make time for one partner, let alone two. “You’re terrible.”
He snatched a fry from my plate, chewing it as he said, “You know. If you weren’t so invested in the bakery, you could meet someone.”
