Fuck, I miss her!
How do you get over someone you know was your soulmate? How do you get over the pain of disappointing them, of knowing you’re the reason they’re gone? How does a man get over the one woman who’s better than every other walking the face of the Earth?
I’ve got to stop doing this to myself. I’ve got to stop thinking about her.
She’s moved on. She’s got a new life in San Francisco. A life everyone claims she’s enjoying. Hell, I heard from one buddy that she was even dating.
Dating.
The woman I need more than fucking air, with another man, doing God knows what.
I’ve thought about flying out there, following her around until I see who this asshole is. I still might. Hell, what else do I have going on?
The thought is tempting. Tempting enough that I pull up flights before I head into the diner. Tempting enough that I search for hotels near her apartment. Tempting enough that I put the fucking phone down before I make another giant mistake.
It’s time to grow up, Wyatt.
Chapter Three
Alice
Everyone knows that the back corner booth is the best seat in the house. Not only do you get a full view of the diner and all who enter, you get a straight-on look at the snowcapped mountains that rise at the end of the street.
I swear, there’s no place like home. Sure, San Francisco is nice, but this exact spot, at this exact diner, with my favorite waitress walking toward me… this is perfection.
Perfection with a side of cranberry pancakes.
I haven’t had cranberry pancakes since last winter. They’re a seasonal staple here that tastes like fluffy, cinnamon-spiced goodness with a splash of tart on the back end. I’ve tried making them at home, but I can’t get the crispy edges, and everyone knows the buttery crisp edges are imperative to a good pancake.
“I’ve missed seeing your face, Alice!” Betty Lynn, the diner’s oldest and most cherished waitress, sets a Coke down on the table for me before I’ve even ordered it. “I’ve also missed your accents. Are you working on anything new lately?”
I grin wide, happy to be seen somewhere as a regular again. I hadn’t realized how much I loved living in a small town until I left. In San Francisco, I’m just another face. Here, I’m Alice, the girl with quirky accents and an over the top passion for seasonal pancakes.
“Why yes, I have, Betty Lynn. This is my rich southern lady accent. Think… Scarlette O’Hara inGone with the Windexcept I’m not as self-centered.”
She raises her thick gray brows as she taps her pen against her notepad thoughtfully, then beams. “I reckon it’s the best I ever heard. How ya been? What can I get ya?”
I grin wide as she speaks to me in her own version of southern. “I’m good! The Chronicle is… fun, and I’d like the cranberry pancakes.”
She jots down my order and then lands her weathered hand on my shoulder. “And how’s your heart?”
“If you’re talking about my love life… it’s a mess.” My smile widens. “What about you? You seeing anyone lately?”
She blows a strand of silver hair from her vision. “You know me, I can’t be tied down to one man. Plus, at this age, they all need to be taken care of. I’m over taking care of men.”
The faint sweetness of pies melds with the scent of bacon and coffee already filling the space. “I think you’ve got some solid advice there, Ms. Betty!”
“Life is much more entertaining this way. The best part is when they know about each other and they start fighting.” She shimmies her shoulders. “It’s so exciting to see two old men get up off their hind ends.”
“To fight for your love?”
“No,” she laughs. “It’s just exciting to see them get up!”
We laugh together for a moment, and all at once, my heart is full. This is what I needed. I needed a sense of community, a sense of home.
“Ya know,” she continues, “I got thinking about you the other day and tried a Canadian accent for fun, but I couldn’t get the vowel shifts right.”
“Same! I can’t get that one down.” I shrug. “I guess I’m just a soft little southern belle at heart.”
