When my dad died, Mom and I were left with a mountain of knickknacks and paperwork to deal with. Most everything was thrown away, but we held on to the big stuff. The business went to me. The house went to my mom. And dad’s prized motorcycle, also to me. That bike held more memories of my dad than anything else. More than even the shop, that old Harley Davidson was Henry Tanner.

There were times when I thought about selling it. The money I could get would be enough to get the shop back on track, but I could never go down that road. The idea of parting ways with something so precious to me was heart-wrenching. I would’ve sold everything I owned, including blood and kidneys, before I let myself sell that bike.

My mom never understood my attachment. After Dad died, she’d pushed me to get rid of it.

“You don’t have room,” she said. “Your house is small. You barely have enough room in your garage for your own motorcycle and car. Where will you put it?”

“I can park my car on the street,” I told her.

“Honey,” she said. “There’s no reason to hang on to it for purely sentimental reasons. Your dad would understand if you—”

“No, he wouldn’t,” I said firmly. “Dad left it to me. I’m keeping it. End of story.”

She let the subject drop that day, but she brought it up on and off for weeks after. It wasn’t that she hated the bike or even cared about it at all. She just couldn’t understand how a motorcycle was an important way to remember my father. It wasn’t her fault. Motorcycles had always been our thing. Mine and Dad’s. Mom was kept on the outside, and that, more than anything, fueled her desire to see me part ways with the Harley.

But, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

Ever since I emptied my savings account, I’d been thinking a lot about my dad’s bike. Maybe that was why I decided to take it out for the day. I’d spent all weekend dwelling on my financial problems and endlessly obsessing over my encounter with Declan. Being alone never bothered me, but I couldn’t stand the silence for another second.

I walked Hazel and made sure her water bowl was full before climbing on the Harley and cranking the engine to life. My helmet was tucked away behind me, but I didn’t pull it out. All I wanted was to feel the wind in my hair and the cool ocean breeze whip across my cheeks.

If my mother saw me, she’d be livid. I could still remember the first time my dad put me on the back of his bike.

“What are you doing?” My mom had screamed out of the kitchen window. “Get her off that thing now!”

“She’ll be fine, Pam,” Dad called back. “You worry too much!”

“At least put a helmet on her!”

“We’re just going down the road,” Dad said. “We won’t be gone more than five minutes.”

“I don’t care!”

Twenty years later, I could still hear my mom’s shrill voice as she screamed at my dad. He laughed at her dramatics but obeyed her all the same. He plopped an old helmet on my head and tightened the strap under my chin. When he grinned at me, I knew I was in for something life-changing.

“Hang on tight,” he said.

My tiny, seven-year-old arms wound their way around his waist and gripped as tightly as I could. Dad cranked the engine and then flew out of the driveway.

Looking back, I’m sure he didn’t drive that fast, but at the time, I would have sworn we were flying down the road at two hundred miles per hour. My dad’s laughter was the only thing louder than the wind in my ears.

That first ride was on Dad’s Harley. It was the first motorcycle I ever rode and the first engine I ever worked on. It started my obsession and bonded me permanently to my father.

As I rode down my street and away from town, I let the fresh air wash away all my worries. I stopped thinking about the shop and its impending doom. I let Gamble Realty fade away into nothing. Even Declan and his daughter Mila drifted to the back of my mind.

Bright sunshine beat down on my skin as I flew down road after road. I didn’t know where I was going until I arrived. I rounded a corner and found myself face-to-face with the sparkling blue sea. I drove further down the street, glancing at the sandy beaches as I moved. For the first time in weeks, I felt a genuine smile spread across my face. It had been ages since I’d ridden down here, since I’d let myself simply enjoy a beautiful day.

I drove for a while before I found a parking spot. The beach was too inviting. I couldn’t resist the urge to take off my shoes and feel the sand beneath my feet. I felt like a little kid as I ran toward the water, kicking at the surf and turning my face toward the sun.

Everything about the day felt perfect. I hadn’t felt so connected to my dad since he died. Being there, on the beach after a long ride on the Harley, it was like he was standing right beside me. And when I turned to see The Diner still standing just down the beach, I knew it was a sign from him.

I laughed to myself and hurried forward. The Diner had been around since before I was born. It was a run-down shack right on the beach. It was literally built on top of the sand, which meant it had undergone about a thousand renovations just to keep it standing. Every time I came to this part of the beach, I always expected it to be gone, either torn down or carried away by the weather, but that never happened. It was always right there. Waiting for me.

I never knew how The Diner got its name. It was always just “The Diner.” When I was a kid, I asked my dad why they didn’t think of something more creative. His response was the kind of response you never forget.

“Sometimes, things don’t need to be flashy or unique to be special,” he told me. “Simplicity is a lost art form. If you can learn to master it, you’ll be happier than most anyone else.”

I was too young to understand back then, and even now, I had a hard time buying into his little life lesson. That day on the beach, though, I knew exactly what he meant. There was something so beautiful about a simple day. A ride on my favorite motorcycle. A walk on the beach. A splash in the sea. And lunch at an old, run-down diner.

“Welcome!” A familiar voice chimed when I stepped through the front door.

“Hey, lady,” I said with a grin.

Diana turned around with wide eyes. When she saw me, she let out a raspy laugh and hurried around the counter to wrap her arms around me.

“Little girl!” she squealed. “Where the hell have you been?”

“I’ve been around.”

We hugged and then she pulled back to hold me at arm’s length. She looked me over with a maternal twinkle in her eye.

“I haven’t seen you in months,” she said. “Come on in. Sit. Sit.”

Diana ushered me to my usual booth right at the front of the dining area. It was the same booth I’d sat in with my dad a million times before. I could almost sense his ghost sliding in across from me.

Diana sat down with me and sighed. She shook her head slowly, her gray eyes darkening with emotion.

“I’m sorry about your old man,” she said.

I let my eyes fall. It was hard to talk about Dad, even with people like Diana. She’d known both my parents for years. I knew she felt my dad’s absence as strongly as I did.

“How’s your mom?” Diana asked.

“She’s okay.” I looked up and forced myself to hold her sympathetic gaze. “She misses him. We all do.”

“Of course.” Diana sighed. “It’s a damn shame. Your dad was one of the good ones.”

“Thanks.” I smiled and looked away.

Diana, always the perceptive one, got the hint quickly. She cleared her throat and stood up. She smoothed out her apron and plastered a warm smile on her face.

“The usual?” she asked. “Cherry Coke, cheeseburger with fries stuffed inside, and a slice of apple pie with a scoop of chocolate ice cream on top.”

“I’m flattered you remember that.” I laughed. “God, it’s a really disgusting order, isn’t it?”

“It’s one of my favorites,” Diana said. “You’ve been ordering it since you could walk.”

She touched my shoulder gently and then disappeared into the kitchen. While she was gone, I looked around The Diner. It hadn’t changed much. It never really did. The only difference I could see was that they’d finally printed some new menus. I barely noticed, though. I hadn’t used a menu here in years.

Diana brought my soda and then hurried over to take someone else’s order. I watched her while she bustled around the dining area. She never tired. She had to be at least sixty-five by now, and yet, her energy was that of a twenty-year-old.

I ate my lunch in silent reverie. Every time I looked up, I half-expected to see my dad sitting right there. His bright green eyes that he’d passed on to me would be staring at me. His lips would be coated in grease from his burger. And he’d be smiling. He was always smiling.

“So,” Diana said when she made her way back over to my table. “Tell me what’s new with you? Any men in your life these days?”

“No.” I laughed. “Come on, you know I’ve never had time for that.”

“Alexandria,” she said sternly. “Enough of that cynicism. You’re young. You’re gorgeous. There is no reason at all for you to be single.”

“Except that I want to be,” I said.

“Why?” Diana demanded. “Why do you insist on going through life alone?”

“I’m not alone.” I shrugged. “I have my mom and Garret. And my dog, Hazel. I have some old friends and a few loyal customers. Trust me, Diana, I’m never alone.”

“You know what I mean.” Diana sighed. “I’d love to see you find someone. To find love. To get married. To have a couple of babies.”

“Maybe someday,” I said. “But definitely not now.”

Diana shook her head. She smiled at me in an annoyed, loving way. It was a smile I’d grown accustomed to. My mom and Garret both used it when talking about my nonexistent love life. It was as if everyone had suddenly decided it was time for me to get married, and I’d somehow missed the memo.

I said goodbye to Diana and went for another long walk on the beach. I’d meant what I said. I was perfectly happy being single, but for some reason, I couldn’t shake what Diana had said. Even more strange, my thoughts of Declan had returned with a vengeance. I couldn’t seem to shake myself free of him as I walked.

I was happy with my life. I was happy being single, being free from any romantic entanglements. I was proud of myself for staying a virgin, for not falling into bed with the first boy I met like so many other girls. I loved my life.

But if that were true, then why couldn’t I stop thinking about Declan Gamble?