Chapter 5 #2
I curled my hair, then changed outfits twice before settling on the sage green dress he once said brought out my eyes.
Lip gloss, earrings, my favorite rings. I wanted to feel beautiful—not in a trying-too-hard kind of way, but in a you’re worth showing up for kind of way.
I lit my lavender candle and stood by the window for a second, watching the sun begin to dip behind the buildings.
My phone buzzed on the dresser. I expected a “be there in ten” text, not a phone call, but this worked too.
I smiled without thinking and picked it up. “Hey, I’m basically ready. Just trying to decide on which shoes to wear.”
“Hey, baby,” he said, and something about his tone made my stomach dip. “I, uh…I’m really sorry, but I’ve gotta take a rain check on tonight.”
My fingers went numb. “Wait, what?”
“My neighbor’s dog got out,” he said quickly, like he’d been rehearsing it. “She asked for help finding him. He’s a rescue and super nervous. I couldn’t say no.”
I blinked. “The dog.”
“Yeah, he freaked out and ran. It didn’t feel right to leave the neighbor hanging, you know?”
Right. Because nothing says urgent like chasing a hypothetical skittish dog fifteen minutes before dinner.
“Sure,” I said, voice tight. “That makes sense. Gotta help the neighborhood pets.”
“Thanks for being chill about it,” he said, not hearing me at all. “I’ll text you later, promise.”
“Of course,” I murmured, already pulling the phone away from my ear.
The call ended. I stood there in the middle of my bedroom, fully dressed up, mascara perfect, heart sinking like it always did when I realized I was the only one who ever looked forward to these nights. Like maybe I was the only one trying.
I stared at my reflection. I looked nice. I looked like someone worth showing up for.
And yet.
My eyes drifted toward the kitchen, to the freezer. I knew there was a pint of sea salt caramel ice cream in there calling my name. I could already see it: me in my dress, eating straight from the carton, watching something I didn’t care about while slowly unraveling inside.
I sighed. Took a breath. Then I kicked off my heels, grabbed my cardigan, and slipped on my sneakers instead.
If I was going to be stood up, I might as well get some fresh air and walk off the frustration.
I didn’t have a destination in mind, just a vague desire to feel the night air on my cheeks and hear something other than the hollow echo of disappointment in my chest. My sneakers hit the pavement in a steady rhythm, each step dragging a little of the heaviness out of me.
The city was settling into its evening glow with streetlights blinking on, cars rolling by in lazy waves, couples holding hands as they passed by in comfortable silence. I pulled my cardigan tighter, not just against the wind, but the gnawing ache of feeling let down.
I walked past the park where Landon and I used to sneak ice cream after his shifts. Past the corner bookstore I hadn’t stepped into since college. My brain tried to go to places it shouldn’t, attempting to compare the warmth I once felt with Landon to the confusion I often felt with Xavier.
But I shoved the thought aside. It was just the nostalgia of seeing Landon. That’s all.
I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going, too busy caught in the lower level of my brain. I was considering turning around when a building caught my eye. The windows were covered in paper, but the shape of the front door and the curve of the awning above the entrance were so familiar.
I stepped closer.
There, taped just to the right of the door, was a flyer with neat handwriting and a sketch of a coffee cup in the corner.
“COMING SOON — Mason’s Diner. Family-owned, community-rooted. Reopening Winter.”
My heart stumbled.
Mason’s Diner.
Landon’s family’s diner.
I blinked. Stepped back. Looked again.
New location but the same name. The same place we’d spent countless afternoons—me curled into the corner booth sketching, him wiping down tables or sneaking fries from the kitchen.
I hadn’t heard a word about it reopening.
Not from Macey, who was in the know on everything, not from town gossip, not from him.
Just as I was staring, the door creaked open and a woman stepped out. She wore a thick sweater and carried a half-empty mop bucket. Her dark hair was streaked with gray now, pulled back in the same no-nonsense bun I remembered from high school.
“Kira?” she asked, squinting.
My breath caught. “Mrs. Cole?”
A slow smile tugged at her lips. “Well, I’ll be damned. You’re grown now. Call me Aimee, please.”
“I—” I looked from her to the sign, then back again. “I didn’t know you were reopening the diner.”
“Not many do yet. We’re keeping it quiet for now.” She paused, tilting her head. Seeing Landon’s mom with her freckled cheeks, soft lines creasing the corners of her eyes, and that same calm, measured smile suddenly made me feel like I was a teenager again. “You okay, honey?”
“Yeah.” I nodded before I could stop myself, but the lie hung awkwardly in the space between us.
She must’ve seen right through it because she reached out and gave my arm a light squeeze. “Come inside for a second. It’s chilly out, and you look like you could use something warm.”
Even though part of me knew it was a terrible idea, I followed her inside.
I stepped through the worn door of the diner, the hinges creaking as they resisted the weight of the wood.
The scent of fresh paint mixed with something more nostalgic, like old wood and years of spilled coffee.
The floors were bare, the checkered tiles covered in dust and waiting for a fresh polish.
It was clear that this place was still in the middle of being reborn.
A few mismatched tables and chairs were set up in the back. The moonlight from the half-open windows slanted through the dust motes in the air, giving the whole space a soft, dreamlike quality.
“Can I make you some coffee?” Aimee asked, her voice warm and welcoming, but with a slight edge of exhaustion, as though she were trying to make up for lost time.
I hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Sure, that sounds great.”
She smiled and gestured toward one of the few empty chairs by the counter. “You can sit if you like.”
I took a seat, my eyes wandering around the space again, taking in the details.
The booth cushions were half-covered with sheets, the seats still waiting to be replaced.
The long counter was a jumbled mix of mismatched chairs and boxes, and I saw a pile of sticky notes covered in Landon’s handwriting.
“Don’t tell me you got all dolled up just to come to the diner.” Aimee handed me a mug of steaming coffee. “Hot date?”
I internally cringed. The last time I saw her, I was dating her oldest son. “Not exactly,” I replied, then paused. “Well, there was supposed to be a hot date, but then he cancelled on me.”
“Who would cancel on a woman like you?” She sipped her coffee. “Sounds like an asshole.”
I couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped me. I had never heard Aimee curse before. Whenever Landon used to say a curse word as a kid, she made him run three laps around the diner.
“Yeah.” I sighed and admitted the truth. “It sucked. I didn’t want the night to go to waste, though.”
“Well, I’m sorry you stumbled upon this work-in-progress then.”
“What?” I placed a hand on her forearm. “No, I’m happy to be here.” Especially since Landon isn’t here. “I was sorry to hear about your husband.”
The words felt inadequate, but I needed to say them. It seemed like the only thing I could offer.
Aimee’s smile faltered for a second, her eyes flickering away as if she needed a moment to brace herself. She placed her hands on the counter, smoothing the edge of the surface absentmindedly. “Thank you.” Her voice was steady, but a shadow of sorrow lingered in her eyes.
She looked back up at me, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
“I’m trying to rebuild this place in his memory,” she continued.
“It was always his dream to open it up again after the fire, to make it a place where people could come and feel at home.” Her gaze softened as she glanced around the diner, almost as if she could see him there, beside her.
“I guess in a way, it’s my way of keeping him with me. ”
I swallowed the lump in my throat, the weight of her words settling on me. A deep tenderness coated her words, a mix of grief and love that I wasn’t sure I could fully understand, but I could feel it in the way she spoke about him.
“That’s beautiful,” I murmured, my voice quiet but sincere. “I’m sure he would be proud.”
She nodded slowly, her hands still on the counter, her fingers absently tracing the grain of the wood. “I like to think so,” she said softly. “He worked so hard to make this place something special. And I’ll be damned if I let it slip away.”
“Can I ask you something?” I ventured, hesitating slightly.
Aimee raised her brows, a gentle encouragement to go ahead.
“How did you know Mason was the one for you?” I asked, my tone softer now, laced with unexpected curiosity.
She met my gaze, her expression thoughtful for a moment as she considered the question. A nostalgic glint appeared in her eyes.
“I don’t know if there was one moment that made me realize,” she said wistfully.
“But there were little things, like the way he’d always keep a spare key to the diner in his coat pocket, just in case I ever lost mine.
Or how he’d leave notes for me in the mornings when I was running late for work.
He knew when I needed a hug or to be pushed.
Small things, you know?” She paused, her countenance softening.
“I guess when you find someone who truly sees you, flaws and all, and loves you for it…you just know.”
“Sounds like it was a real partnership,” I said, my voice a little distant as I thought about my lack of successful relationships.
Aimee nodded, her smile growing a tad sadder. “It was. And even though he’s gone, I still feel him here. I think I always will.”
“If you ever need anything from me…” I left it as an open invitation.
“Thank you, dear. You always had a generous heart.” She cleared her throat and took our empty mugs behind the counter. “Now you go back into that world and show that asshole that you don’t need him.”
A gentle eye roll accompanied my laugh. “Sure thing. Have a good night, Aimee.”
“You too, Kira.”
I headed home, warmed by coffee and conversation, without a plan to contact Xavier. If anything, I expected an apology text from him by the time I made it back to the apartment.
Instead, the only text I received was a link from the one person I attempted to avoid thinking about all night.
Landon: The Chicago Echo Studio art residency is accepting applications for its next cohort. I think you should consider applying.