“The diner was built by a Ukrainian immigrant named Sally Melnyk, who named it after herself. She and her family ran it for over fifty years. Frank didn’t have the heart to change the name when he bought it from her grandson after she passed. I didn’t either, when I bought it. It’s funny though, it never occurred to me that you’d see a connection to your name, because to me, you’re not Sal. You’re my Tory.”
He grinned and said, “That I am.” Then he pointed at a doorway and asked, “Is that your office?”
“Yes, and it’s the last stop on the tour, unless you’ve always wanted to see the inside of a walk-in refrigerator.”
“I’ll pass on that one, thanks.”
We went into my office, and he looked around curiously as he said, “I’ve seen bits and pieces on our video calls, but it’s nice to get the full picture.” He circled around behind the desk, sat in my chair, and looked at my framed photos. Most of them were of my son and me, but the newest was of Tory and me dressed in red jumpsuits, posing in front of one of the cars at the driving school. He picked up the photo and murmured, “I love that you have this on display.”
“It’s a great memory.”
“For me, too.”
“We should go back out front. My cook keeps an eye on the dining room through the pass-through when I’m not out there, but it’s almost time for him to go home.”
“And at what point are you planning to eat dinner?”
As usual, it hadn’t even occurred to me to eat something. But to make him happy, I said, “Right now.” I went into the kitchen and served myself a cup of corn chowder.
Tory hung out in a booth until closing time, sipping coffee and visiting with me, in between all the random tasks I had to do each night. We didn’t get any more customers, and at ten p.m., I flipped the sign to closed, cut half the lights, and locked the front door. He got up and helped me close the blinds on all the windows. Then he swept me up, sat me on the edge of a table, and said, “Alone at last.”
“Technically, we’ve been alone for the last couple of hours.”
“But with the constant threat of being interrupted.” He kissed me and slid his hands down my back.
When he started to reach for my belt, I said, “I love where you’re going with this. But I’m sweaty and disgusting, and I have a little more work to do. If you wait until we get home and give me a chance to shower, you can have your way with me.”
“Deal. Can I do anything to help?”
“No, thanks. I have this down to a pretty quick routine.”
Twenty minutes later, he followed me home in his car. Then, while he put his overnight bag in the bedroom and got comfortable, I stripped down and stepped into a hot shower.
I’d been in there about a minute when he pulled back the shower curtain and asked, “Want company?”
I ran my gaze down his naked body and grinned. “Like I’d say no to that.”
Tory joined me and dispensed some body wash into his hand. He then proceeded to wash and massage every inch of me, from my head to my feet. I leaned back against him and let my eyesslide shut, sighing with pleasure when he started jerking me off. It took no time at all for him to push me over the edge. I came so hard that my legs almost buckled.
He shut off the water and dried both of us before leading me to the bedroom. I tried to keep my eyes open when we climbed into bed, but it was a losing battle, so I whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing, Arie?”
“Because this was such a boring visit for you,” I mumbled. “You drove all this way, only to sit in my diner for hours on end. Now I can’t even stay awake.”
“Today was amazing. I loved spending time with you and getting to see the diner. I feel like I know you so much better now.”
I murmured, “You’re so sweet,” a moment before falling asleep in his arms.
I opened my eyes sometime in the middle of the night, the dream that had woken me quickly fading from my memory. Tory was sitting beside me, reading something on his phone. I reached for him and muttered, “I love it when I wake up and you’re here.”
He set aside his phone and glasses and shifted around so we were face-to-face. When he brushed my hair back and kissed me, it made my heart skip a beat.
I asked, “Are we still trying to tell ourselves we’re casually dating? Because honestly, this doesn’t feel casual.”
“We have a really good thing going right now,” he whispered. “Can we please keep it the way it is, without trying to label or redefine it?”
“Sure, we can do that.” I knew we’d have to talk about it sooner or later, though.
