Drake shakes his head. “Nothing. Just uncle and nephew talk.” He grins and gets in the car. “How did it go with your ex?”
“Surprisingly well. She’s mellowed. Must be all the sugar from her Magnifica machine. Sweetened her up a little.”
“Mate, if I lived out here with the sounds of the ocean, I’d mellow too.”
We both laugh as we drive to the mall, my shoulders a little lighter than they were this morning.
Five days until Christmas.
Five more days to make things right.
Chapter Nineteen
SERA
Flint: There’ll be a table set for you at dinner tomorrow.
Flint: You’ll always have a home here.
Flint: Merry Christmas, firecracker.
It’s not the first time he’s texted me since I left, and I know he deserves more than one word replies when he asks how I am, but I need to put this behind me, for him, his reputation, and his family.
I slip my phone back into my apron and walk over to table six. “Hey, May and Harold, how are you?” I pour them both a coffee.
“I’m good, deary, it’s you I’ve been worried about.” May pats my hand with her frail one. “You’ve been in my prayers, sweetheart.”
The term of endearment reminds me of Flint, causing a pang in my heart. Christmas tunes play in the background, remindingof when we decorated his tree. Everything reminds me of him, but I haven’t seen him pull up outside for a few days. It was comforting to see him watching me, even if he never came inside.
“Thank you.”
“Do you have someone to spend Christmas with?” Harold lifts his cup of coffee and takes a sip.
“There’s plenty of room at our table, isn’t there, Harold.” May smiles warmly. “Drake and Ember are coming over with Sienna in the afternoon.”
I slide May’s cup over to her. “You’re about the tenth person to invite me for Christmas dinner, but I’m working here. Figured I may as well make myself useful.”
“Is the manager still putting on meals for the elderly?”
“Yeah, he calls it his singletons and seniors.”
“That’s great, dear. I hope Santa brings you everything you want.”
“Thank you. Merry Christmas.”
My shoulders curl inwards as I walk away. There’s only one thing I want this year, and it’s the one thing I can’t have.
The bell dings above the door. Mason pulls down his hood and shakes off the snow. His boots leave small puddles as he walks into the diner. “Hey.”
“Hi, what can I get you?”
“You got five minutes? I want to talk to you.” He slides into a booth.
I search the space to check I’m not needed elsewhere, then slip in the booth opposite him, setting the coffee pot down on the table. “Everything all right?”
“Yeah.” Creases appear between his eyebrows. “How are you?”
“Good.” I put on my fake smile. The same fake smile I’ve had for weeks, putting on a brave face to customers, but my lip twitches and I swear Mason can see through the facade.
