“Where are we?”
“This is the diner where my dad used to work. The owner said we could help open up today.”
“Who’s the owner?”
“Me,” he shook a set of keys.
“You don’t think the paparazzi are going to show up?”
“I doubt it. We’re technically in the middle of nowhere. Some truckers might ask to take pictures with me but that’s about it.”
I followed him inside the small café. Despite the drab exterior, the inside was bright and cheery. The checkered floor shone underneath yellow halogen lights, bright red bar stools with silver metal legs sat up against the bar, and each of the tables was set with fresh cut flowers.
“Why are you sitting down?” he planted a kiss on my forehead.
“I’m watching you open up the diner.”
“I don’t think so. You’re going to help.”
“You know I don’t—”
“You can always learn,” he slid me a box of syrup dispensers. “We’ll start with the basics. Put one of those on each table and make sure they’re all filled.”
I took my time placing them on the tables, stepping back to examine each one. I was trying my best to avoid any real cook work. The last time I attempted to make breakfast, the fire department came to put it out.
I felt Matt’s arms around my waist. “Why is it taking you so long to set tables?”
“I’m making sure all the syrups are perfectly aligned.”
“You’re so full of it, Melody. Come on, let me show you how to make breakfast.”
I watched him make a batch of blueberry waffles from scratch. He was so meticulous, making use of every fresh blueberry and stirring the beige batter until it was perfect.
I cut strawberries for the pancake toppings, and fried the bacon with little help. I burnt the first and second batch of scrambled eggs and couldn’t get him to stop laughing at me.
I was setting napkins on the bar when an elderly man walked into the diner.
“Matt!” he beamed. “How you been?”
Matt walked over to the man and hugged him. “I’m good Tony, you alright?”
“Better than ever. Business is good. Your dad would be really proud…How come I didn’t get a wedding invite? My wife is beginning to think you don’t love us anymore.”
“I’ll get you one,” he laughed. “Tony, I want you to meet someone. This is my friend, Melody Carter. Melody, this was my dad’s best friend and the current manager of the place, Tony.”
“Are you the Melody Carter from The New York Appeal?” Tony’s eyes lit up.
“Yes,” I shook his hand. “That’s me.”
“You’re a lot younger than I thought! A lot younger! My wife loves your stuff!”
“Thank you sir.”
“My AM staff should be getting in any minute. You kids staying for the morning rush?”
“Sure,” Matt winked at me.
For two hours we took orders, made coffee, and helped the staff however they needed us. Most of the truckers were unaware of who Matt was, but the few that did recognize him simply asked him to autograph their napkins—after he took their order.
When things slowed down, we headed back to the car. Before I could ask where we were going next, he leaned over and kissed me.
“Ready to go to the beach?” he asked. “There’s a private one twenty miles over the bridge.”
It didn’t seem real. Everything in my life was like a dream. Matt was going out of his way to spend time with me, and I was relishing every second.
I was falling for him. Hard.
For the first time in my career, I was ahead of all my assignments and wasn’t waiting until the last minute to complete my writing pieces. I wanted to make sure I couldn’t use “work” as an excuse. I wanted to be with Matt as much as possible.
Even though our dates were a bit unconventional and he had to make major preparations for each one—driving a different car to and from, involving his security detail, wearing different clothes—he made each one special.
Chapter 22
Matt
No one else had ever made me feel this way. No one. Ever.
I wasn’t sure if it was the beginning stages of love, infatuation, or both. Melody Carter was all I could think about.
The closer the wedding came, the guiltier I felt. I knew Melody was slowly accepting the terms of my engagement to Selena, but I felt bad about not being able to walk away from it all.
Last Saturday, while we were at a secluded beach, she asked me to explain why I couldn’t walk away. I wanted to tell her that Selena had threatened to ruin my career with a domestic abuse claim, but I knew she wouldn’t buy that. So I just told her the truth about the contract—that Selena and I would need to stay married for seventy two days past the wedding. I told her that I didn’t want our relationship to change and that I would do anything to prove it to her.