Cami:Lol. See you soon.
I had found myself in bed by eleven o’clock last night. And while eleven for most single woman in their 20’s might sound early, it was late for me. I’d always been more focused on work, studying, and becoming a better version of myself, which left little room for nights out or hangovers.
Logan had left a couple of hours earlier without saying a word. His silent departure matched his usual standoffish demeanor. Harper on the other hand, lying slung over Logan’s shoulder, gave me a lazy wave as they walked out.
I told myself it was just brunch: waffles, bacon, and coffee. A friendly catch-up with my best friend and her brand-new husband.
Except, I changed my outfit three times before leaving my apartment and I braved the 405 before noon, with a hangover.
By the time I pulled into the little diner near the pier, I’d given myself a full pep talk in the car.
You’re here for Cami and Hunter, I reminded myself. Not for the handsome, broody, former Marine whose jawline seemed carved from stone and whose southern drawl made my heart pound faster than I wanted to admit.
Stewart’s Diner was bright and beachy, with whitewashed brick and turquoise tile benches out front. A neon sign in the window readStewart’s Dinerin a classic red font with a flickering ‘Open 24 Hours’.
Inside, the air smelled like syrup and cheap coffee and the kind of greasy comfort food that could fix a hangover and ruin your diet at the same time.
Cami spotted me first, waving like she was guiding a plane in.
“Oh, Daniela!” she called. Cami was one of the few people I allowed to call me by my full name, because it was always in love and never used as a weapon.
I waved back, forcing my feet to move.
And then I saw Logan again, properly this time.
He sat across from Hunter. The sleeves of his red flannel were rolled up, forearms braced on the table like he was holding down the chaos by sheer will. His expression was neutral in that way that screamedI am not having fun,as his eyes tracked the room with focused precision.
As I made my way to the table, Harper spotted me first. She sat beside Logan in the booth, owning the space with her presence. Her sandy blonde hair fell in loose waves, and she wore a flowy pink princess dress, and the kind of larger-than-life energy that could power the entire city.
“Ms. Dani!” she squealed, waving her fork like a baton. “You came!”
“Of course I came,” I said, weaving between tables. “I had to come see my favorite little ballerina.”
“She means me,” Harper announced to everyone within a six-table radius.
Logan’s mouth twitched. “Modesty’s still a work in progress.”
I slid into the only open seat, right next to Logan.
The vinyl bench was warm from his body heat, and the space between us was not enough causing my pulse to thud wild and insistently. I was trying desperately to seem normal, to ignore how the memory of his hand at my waist last night buzzed through me like static.
“Hey,” I said, like I hadn’t rehearsed that in the car.
He glanced at me. His eyes the same mossy green as last night. Still too observant, too knowing.
“Hey,” he said.
The word was flat but his gaze lingered on my face a fraction longer than “polite” required.
Something tightened low in my stomach as I reached for the menu as if it could shield me, but before Logan could say anything else, two little whirlwinds barreled around the end of the booth.
Cami and Hunter’s twins, Avery and Chloe, slammed to a stop beside Harper.
“Harper!” Avery cried, breathless. “We found the syrup fountain!”
Chloe bounced on her toes. “It’smagical!”
Cami groaned into her coffee. “Please tell me that’s a figure of speech.”
