Chapter 13 Landon
LANDON
I had finally discovered the best shift to work at The Modern Muse: day shift.
No staggering drunks demanding their fifth tequila shot, no groups trying to outshout each other over blasting music.
Just locals, lunch-goers, and predictable chaos.
The regulars greeted me by name, and the pace gave me just enough time to actually breathe.
These last few days have taken a lot out of me.
I thought spending all my time at the diner, working at the bar, volunteering, and helping Kira with her art residency application was a good thing.
It kept me busy. Kept my life moving forward.
But what I hadn’t realized until Kira pointed it out was how numb and tired I felt.
The words day off weren’t in my vocabulary, but maybe this was my body crying for one. I couldn’t remember the last time I had free time to do absolutely nothing. Ever since the move back to Chicago, life had been go, go, go.
People assumed that the most dramatic changes in your life happened suddenly and unpredictably. I’d argue many of them happened slowly, like honey pouring from a pot. And you’d never know your life had become sticky until you tried to clean it.
I wasn’t complaining, though. I felt privileged to be able to do so many things I enjoyed and to surround myself with people I loved. It was just overwhelming.
I set the glass I had been cleaning down on the rack and rubbed my eyes, fatigue setting in. My eyes flicked to the clock above the liquor shelf. Just a few more minutes.
“You keep glancing at that door like a kid waiting for Santa Claus,” Josh said, sliding a tray of clean glasses onto the shelf.
I smirked, drying my hands on the towel tucked into my waistband. “Someone’s stopping by.”
Josh leaned on the counter with a knowing grin. “Oh, shit. Kira?”
I gave a quick nod.
He raised an eyebrow. “And her boyfriend’s cool with that?”
I hesitated. “They broke up.”
Josh pulled back slightly, his grin fading into something more cautious. “Huh. That’s big.”
“Why do you sound like that’s a bad thing?”
He scratched the back of his neck, glancing toward the kitchen like he didn’t want to say it too loud. “I just don’t know if you should assume she ended things with him to jump right back into your arms. Kira’s not exactly the impulsive type.”
I stiffened. The towel twisted in my hands. I’m not waiting around like some lovesick teenager, I wanted to say. But maybe part of me was.
“I’m not assuming anything,” I said instead. “I’m just making sure she knows she has options.”
Josh gave me a pointed look, voice gentler now. “Just be careful, man. Sometimes when you rush in hoping for a second chance, you forget to make sure if the other person wants the same.”
A regular, a retired construction worker who came in daily for a beer and a chat, flagged me down. “I’ll be fine. I know Kira,” I whispered to Josh. “We’ve always understood each other.”
Later, halfway through a conversation about whether a hot dog was a sandwich or a taco, I heard a familiar laugh down the bar. One I’d pick up on from a mile away.
Kira.
My head perked up on its own. Kira was down the bar, dressed casually in leggings and a striped sweater, but she still looked like the most elegant person in here. To her side sat a guy in his mid-thirties with a scraggly beard. He was the one who made her laugh. The fuck?
He leaned an elbow on the bar like he was posing for a cologne ad. My grip on the tap tightened.
“You must be a model or something,” the guy said to Kira, his words dripping with false charm. “I swear, you could be in a magazine.”
Kira raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking in amusement. “And when’s the last time you picked up a magazine?”
I smothered a laugh behind the foam of the pint glass. That’s my girl.
But the man wasn’t deterred. He leaned in closer. “What’s a beautiful woman like you doing sitting here all alone?”
“Oh, I’m not alone.” Kira gestured toward me. “I’m waiting for him.”
The guy glanced over his shoulder at me. I gave him a tight smile. One that I hoped he understood for what it was: a get-the-fuck-out-of-my-bar smile.
“Really?” The guy scoffed, turning back to Kira. “That guy? The bartender?”
Kira took a leisurely sip of her drink, unfazed. “Do you have a problem with him being a bartender?”
“No,” the guy said quickly, though his tone was defensive. “But if you’re into guys who pour drinks, I could totally—”
Before he could finish his sentence, I was there, sliding him a glass of water with enough force to send it sloshing over the sides.
“Hey there,” I said, all fake cheer. “I see you’ve met Kira. I’d introduce myself, but you’ve already learned I’m just the bartender.”
The guy blinked at me, clearly caught off guard. “We were just talking.”
“Talking’s great.” I fixed him with an unfriendly grin. “But you’re in my seat.”
“How?” he sputtered. “You’re the bartender.”
I checked the clock. One minute past my shift. “Not anymore, I’m not.” I yanked the towel from my waist and tossed it into the bucket behind the bar. Just to drive the point home, I added, “Kira’s busy.”
I wasn’t a possessive person by any means.
Spending years never filling an apartment, never owning a place of my own, had taught me not to grow too attached to things—to embrace minimalism, take only what you could carry, and all that.
But apparently that didn’t quite apply to unwanted strangers approaching Kira.
Unless…they were wanted? Insecurity curled in my stomach.
The guy raised his hands like he was surrendering in a hostage negotiation. “All right, all right, no need to get territorial.” He stood, smoothing out his jacket. “Didn’t realize.”
As the guy slinked off to another corner of the bar, I turned to Kira, who was shaking her head at me, though the amused glint in her eyes betrayed her.
“Your seat, huh?” Her lips curved into a smirk.
I shrugged innocently. “I work here. That makes all the bar’s seats my seats.”
“You know I could have handled that, right?”
“I’m well aware you can take care of yourself.” I dropped my voice. “But you shouldn’t have to.”
She let out a soft laugh. “I’m not sure if I should be flattered or not.”
“Feel whatever you want, as long as you know who’s leaving the bar with you.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, a playful challenge flickering behind them. “Is that what we’re doing? Leaving?”
“It’s less about leaving and more about going somewhere better.” I grinned. “I have a surprise for you.”
“Okay.” Kira tucked a few dollar bills under her glass. “Lead the way.”
We didn’t have far to go, and I had already put in a pick-up order at Thai Garden, complete with all of our favorites. I knew the path back to my apartment like the back of my hand, and in a few minutes, we were heading up the stairs to the roof.
The metal stairwell groaned beneath our steps, echoing through the narrow alley as we climbed.
Kira’s breath came light beside me, our shoulders brushing now and then as we carried the takeout bags between us.
I held the door open at each landing, letting the scent of roasted garlic and basil drift up with us, trying not to think too hard about whether this was a bad idea.
The final door creaked open with a push, and we stepped out onto the rooftop.
The air felt cooler up here, and the wind tugged at her hair as she looked around.
I’d strung café lights between two rusty poles earlier today, their glow soft and golden against the twilight sky.
A thick blanket was spread near the edge of the rooftop, anchored by an old milk crate and a stack of worn books.
Kira’s steps slowed. “Landon…”
“I thought we could use a night off.” I set the takeout bags down and flipped open the containers. “Two Pad Thais, mango sticky rice, and that Thai iced tea you’re always trying to get me to drink.”
She laughed and crouched down beside me. “You remembered?”
“I’d never forget all of your weird cravings,” I teased.
We sat together as the sun warmed our skin. Kira pulled her knees up under her, twisted her noodles with chopsticks, and stole bites of my spring rolls without asking.
I watched her more than I should’ve—the way her lashes caught the light, the curve of her cheek when she smiled, how her hand lingered on the rim of her cup as if lost in thought.
“Here,” she said suddenly, holding out her chopsticks. “Try mine.”
I took the bite and immediately regretted my life choices. Everything burned, collapsing into what felt like a fire in my belly.
“Oh my God.” I coughed, grabbing my drink. “Why is it angry?”
Kira burst into laughter, clapping a hand over her mouth. “You baby. It’s not even that spicy.”
I attempted to pat my tongue dry with the napkin. “So you say.”
She laughed again, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, and I couldn’t help but grin, even as my tongue still burned.
“Where are we, by the way?” Kira asked, finally catching her breath after the spice-induced laughter.
“My apartment complex,” I said, stretching my legs out in front of me and leaning back on my hands.
Kira glanced around, scanning the rooftop edge and the dusky skyline beyond. “Huh.” She nodded with subtle approval. “You’ve got a nice view. This is peaceful.”
I smiled but didn’t say anything.
She tilted her head, casting a side-glance at me. “Do you like living alone?”
I paused.
Not because I didn’t know the answer. I did. But because the truth sat thick in my throat, and I wasn’t sure how much honesty I should let slip out. I closed my takeout container and set it gently on the blanket beside me.
“I do,” I said finally, my voice lower now, stripped of humor. “It’s quiet. I can think. I don’t have to explain myself to anyone.”
She didn’t speak right away, just turned slightly toward me, her elbow resting loosely on her knee.
“But it’s weird sometimes,” I added. “I used to think…”
Her chin lifted slightly, catching the strong sunlight. “Used to think what?”