Chapter 18 Landon
LANDON
“Your girlfriend is so talented.” Mom swung an arm around me.
The two of us stood behind the counter at the diner, watching Kira crouch near the wall, paintbrush in hand, adding the last delicate stroke of white to the corner of a swirling cloud. Morning light streamed through the windows, making each color on the freshly painted mural appear very bright.
Liam moved between tables, refilling coffee mugs with a grin. His hair was still mussed from sleep, and he hadn’t noticed the streak of syrup on his sleeve—or maybe he had and didn’t care.
“Yeah,” I said, my voice catching a little. “She really is.”
The mural stretched across the far wall in soft strokes that showcased a giant, open recipe book painted to look like its pages were fluttering in a breeze.
On one side, ingredients spilled from the page: a stick of butter melting into sunrays, flour billowing like clouds over a cozy breakfast scene, sugar cubes sparkling over a corner booth.
The margins of the other page were filled with little hand-drawn doodles including a steaming mug, a pie with a missing slice, a half-finished crossword puzzle, a pair of cleats slung over a hook.
Something that represented the diner and my family all too well.
Kira stood and stepped back, wiping her hands on a paint-stained rag as her friends gathered behind her to admire the work. Her eyes scanned every inch like she was trying to memorize it forever.
She caught me watching her and smiled.
I moved around the counter and placed a hand on the small of her back, intending to pull her to the side for a few minutes.
As much as I could ramble about the mural all day, one thing bothered me that I needed to talk about.
But before I could say a word, the petite redhead standing next to Kira coughed loudly and tilted her head at us with thinly veiled interest.
“Oh, right.” Kira rooted herself in place, and her spine straightened under my palm. We weren’t going anywhere. “Landon, this is Britney. You know Macey, of course.”
Macey gave me a small smile. Britney extended a hand with bright turquoise nails and a look that could size up a room in one blink.
“You’re the Landon,” she said as we shook hands. “The one who disappeared, broke her heart, then swooped back into town with a killer pie recipe.”
I blinked. “Uh, yeah. That’s me. Nice to meet you.”
“You too.” Her tone was polite, but her eyes scanned me like a TSA agent. “And while I’m happy for the two of you, someone’s got to give you a warning.”
“Brit,” Kira muttered, giving her a shocked look.
“I’m just saying,” Britney said with a shrug. “If you hurt her again, I’ll personally make sure you’re not in a position to come home next time.”
I gave a soft laugh, raising my hands. “Fair enough. I’ve earned that.”
Britney narrowed her eyes, then gave a slight nod of approval as if I’d passed some test I didn’t know I was taking. “Good.”
“Hey, Park-ist.” Noah strolled over to us in a leather jacket that looked uncomfortable. He high-fived Kira. “Great job with the mural.” He turned to me. “Good to see you again, man.”
I nodded, still on the fence about my opinion of him. But despite being a bizarrely famous social media star, Noah seemed genuine enough. He hadn’t done anything to make me not trust him.
“Let’s get more coffee,” Britney cut in, already grabbing Macey and Noah by the forearms like she was breaking up a middle school dance. Her gaze landed squarely on me. “Try not to mess anything up while we’re gone.”
Beside me, Kira let out a slow breath.
“Britney’s a little intense,” I murmured.
“She is,” Kira admitted, the corner of her mouth twitching. “But it comes from a good place. She’s protective.”
“I get it. I’d be protective of you, too.”
Her eyes met mine, softening just enough to make my chest ache. Around us, the diner was activated with morning energy. The silverware clinked. Liam hummed off-key near the coffee station. People whispered how much they liked the coffee.
I brushed my thumb lightly against her back. “Hey. Can we talk? Just us. Five minutes.”
“Of course,” she said, then hesitated. “I just wanted to introduce you to Ariadne first. I’m not sure where she went.”
It didn’t take much effort to find the one unfamiliar face in the room.
A tall, slender girl with short, curly brown hair sat on a barstool, tapping her fingernails against the counter.
A disinterested look sat on her face, though I wasn’t sure if that was because she didn’t care for the diner or for Nathan, the guy I recognized from the bar, taking a seat next to her.
Kira followed my gaze and sighed. “Well, maybe later. What did you want to talk about?”
“I wanted to make sure that I didn’t—”
“Hey, Kira,” Mom interrupted. A bunch of mismatched paintbrushes and pencils were in her hand.
Why is it so difficult to get five minutes alone today?
“Which utensil is best for signing the mural?”
“Let me take a look at the options.” Kira shifted her attention to the utensils in my mother’s hands, evaluating them one by one.
I glanced at the array and asked, “Can’t we just use a Sharpie or something?”
They both glared at me. “Kira is the professional here,” Mom said, further proving my theory that if Kira and I were dangling from a cliff, she’d save Kira first.
Kira bit back a grin and selected a fine-tipped brush and a tiny pot of deep charcoal paint. “This one will hold clean lines and won’t drip if we keep the strokes short.”
I laughed. “Whatever you say, Picasso.”
She bumped her shoulder lightly into mine. “You’ll thank me when this thing doesn’t look like a toddler signed it.”
A few moments later, she crouched beside the mural’s bottom right corner, the paintbrush poised in her fingers as she signed her own name. It made sense that the artist should sign first. Usually, only an artist signed, but Kira insisted on the Cole family signing as well.
She passed me the brush next. I crouched low, dipped the brush into the paint, and carefully wrote my name beside hers.
Liam leaned his elbow against my shoulder. “Can I sign with glitter?”
“No,” a chorus of voices replied.
He sighed but signed it, followed by Mom, who signed not just her name but Dad’s as well.
“It’s perfect,” she murmured.
I wasn’t sure if she meant the mural or the moment. Maybe both.
“All right, all right.” Liam clapped his hands together, still managing to spill a little coffee onto his apron in the process. “Before we all get back to pretending we don’t have real jobs, someone’s got something to say.”
He gestured toward me and Mom.
I blinked. “We’re doing that now?”
“Yes,” Liam whispered, nudging me. “We rehearsed this like six times.”
I cleared my throat, suddenly aware of the room full of eyes, and reached for the folded flyer behind the register.
“Thanks, everyone, for being here this morning,” I started. “Whether you came to paint, pour coffee, or steal a free muffin, we’re grateful.”
A few chuckles rose from the crowd.
“This mural is more than just a painting. It’s a reflection of the history of Mason’s Diner, of what it’s meant to our family and this city. And now, we finally get to invite everyone back inside for good.”
Mom stepped up beside us, beaming. “So, with that, we’re thrilled to announce that the diner will officially reopen on December tenth.”
The room erupted in cheers and applause. Macey whooped. Britney gave a tight-lipped nod of approval. Even Noah fist-pumped from the corner.
Liam rang the little silver bell on the counter like we’d just declared world peace.
I glanced at Kira. Her eyes were glassy, but she was grinning.
“You didn’t tell me.” She playfully shoved my chest.
“It’s called a surprise.” I grabbed her hands with my own.
The crowd slowly broke apart, pulled away by conversations, half-finished coffee, and the promise of muffins.
My mom busied herself organizing napkins that didn’t need organizing.
Liam cornered Britney to show her the “before” pictures of the diner on his phone.
And finally, finally, it was just Kira and me near the mural.
“Hey,” I said softly.
She turned to me with a tired smile. “Hey.”
“Can we talk now?”
“Yeah, of course.”
I led her to the little booth in the far corner. The morning light was slanting through the blinds just right, catching the flecks of paint on her jeans and the curve of her cheekbone.
We slid in across from each other, but it didn’t feel like enough. So I stood, came around to her side, and sat beside her instead. She didn’t flinch. Just leaned into me like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“I just wanted to make sure I didn’t make you uncomfortable last night,” I said, voice low.
The question had plagued me all night. The sexting between us seemed to go well—great, really—but I knew Kira’s boundaries weren’t always obvious from the outside. A small part of me questioned if she’d gone along with it just because she thought I wanted it.
“Uncomfortable?” She scrunched her forehead, confused. “Not at all. I’d say it was a good night, actually.”
I let out a sigh of relief. “Okay. It’s just…you once told me it takes you three business days to decide if you want to hold someone’s hand,” I said, half teasing, half serious. “And now it feels like we’re skipping past that to everything else.”
Kira’s thigh brushed mine.
“It’s different with you, Landon. I hope you know that.” She placed a hand on my knee and squeezed. “It’s hard to explain to someone whose brain works a little differently, but I love you and want to be with you. In every way.”
Her words hit me like sunlight—steady and warm, filling in cracks I didn’t know were still there.
For years, I’d carried guilt about leaving her, guilt that bled into every attempt to get close again.
But now, with her looking at me like I wasn’t just forgiven, but wanted, I felt something settle. Something whole.
“I love you too.” My voice came out rougher than I expected. “And I’m not in a rush, Kira. I want what you want, at your pace. Always.”
She smiled and canted her head. “Well, my pace is looking a lot faster these days.”
“Oh yeah?”
She leaned in until her lips brushed the corner of my mouth. “Definitely.”
I caught her chin gently and kissed her slowly. It would have been easy to stay here all day if Liam hadn’t cleared his throat from behind us.
“Mom wants a group picture,” he said. “You guys look too happy.”
“Is that such a bad thing?” I climbed out of the booth.
He looked a lot older than eighteen when he answered, “I’m not sure yet.”