When I woke the next morning, Grayson grumbled and tightened his grip around my waist. We had fallen asleep in our jeans, and I shifted, uncomfortable from the roughness of them. The sun was still soft from the window, and I hoped that meant I hadn’t overslept too much to open the diner on time.

Slowly, I tried to slip out of bed without him realizing. But the second I had both feet on the floor, he shot up, his face panicked. When he saw that it was just me, he relaxed, his smile warm. The left side of his face was a bit pink from having it pressed against my back all night, his eyes bright blue as he rubbed the sleep from them. He yawned, stretching upward, and I couldn’t help but gawk at the movement in his body, and at his abdominal muscles as they flexed.

He ran a hand through his already ridiculously high hair. It didn’t help any, and I loved it all the more.

“Early,” he said, his voice low and scratchy. I would rather he perpetually be waking up, so his voice would always have that thick gravel in it. It made small shivers run up my spine and my chest squeeze. “Too early.”

“Yes,” I agreed, leaning a knee on the bed to push him gently, watching him bounce a little as he fell back on the pillows. His answering laugh was bright and full, surprise coloring his face and his mouth too busy smiling to prepare for the kiss I pressed to the side of it. “But I have work.”

He groaned, lower lip slipping out in a bit of a pout. “Too early.”

“Good argument,” I teased, standing up again. I popped my back as I stretched and yawned delicately. “But the diner opens early, you know.”

He huffed, and I bit back a laugh as I stepped into the bathroom to do a quick finger brushing and wash my face. He was adorably petulant in the mornings, I mused. Briefly, I realized how surreal it was that I knew something like that about Grayson Sparling.

I shook my head and grabbed my previously discarded shirt, throwing it on. It was wrinkled after a night on the floor, but it was still relatively clean, and I didn’t really want to stop by my house to change. I considered bringing a few pieces of clothing over to his room, if he didn’t mind since it’d make things a bit easier—but I stopped short, remembering that we had less than a week until he was set to leave.

I swallowed heavily and took a moment to school my expression before turning back to him. Surprisingly, he was already standing and buttoning his jeans.

“Go back to sleep,” I told him.

He shook his head. “Nah, I’ll head in with you, if that’s okay.” I raised an eyebrow. “I have to meet Chris in a bit anyway. Might as well do it over the best breakfast in the world.”

He kissed my cheek, grabbing a shirt from his closet and slipping it over his head. This one was a deep blue, and I kept looking at him as I pulled my shoes on, sneaking glances to see the way his eyes contrasted against the sea blue shirt.

It was brilliant, and I bit the inside of my cheek to muffle my smile.

He headed into the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash up quickly.

“Ready!” he declared, throwing himself into the chair next to me. The hotel room was more of a suite and was much too large. I liked it anyway.

“Me, too.” I finished the tie on my shoe and slipped my jacket on quickly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a beanie, shoving it over his head. It was orange and horrible, but he still looked good wearing it. I smoothed a curl that slipped out the front.

“Oh, hold on.” He darted back into his closet, coming out with a gray beanie. He grinned and carefully put it on my head, tugging it low on my forehead and on top of my ears. He took a step back, tapping a finger to his lips. He nodded, appraisingly, before grinning. “I approve.”

My cheeks warmed. “I don’t remember asking.”

“Hmm.” He slid his arm through mine, wiggling his eyebrows. “I suppose you didn’t.”

We laughed, and he locked the door behind us as we left the hotel room. By the time we entered the lobby, Grayson had taken a step away from me, leaving a respectable distance between us as if we hadn’t spent the night in the same bed, even though I was wearing the same clothes I wore the day before and fresh bruises marring my neck.

I snuck a glance at Grayson, who seemed to be doing the same thing. We both quickly averted our eyes. Oh well, I thought. It didn’t matter if he wanted to pretend like we were something else. He had his reasons.

The street was busier than it had been the night before, so I didn’t try to step closer to him, even if my body trembled a little with the effort. I just wanted to feel the heat radiating off of his side, hear his breath. I only had six days left with him. I wanted each one to count.

My mind recoiled from the thought, glancing up at him. He turned at my scrutiny, offering me a half smile as he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. His head was ducked low, avoiding contact with the people who passed him on the streets, as if each day he was closer to the deadline he was more likely to get recognized and ruin the little bubble that we lived in. I wasn’t sure if that was true, but I worried nevertheless. I knew that his worry was born of something genuine, even if I wasn’t sure where it came from.

I wondered if it had happened before. If he had gone somewhere and gotten close to someone else before the paparazzi ruined it. I wondered if it was his childhood or just his adult life as a movie star that had him worried so fiercely about his privacy. I guessed I could understand. I was only a diner owner, but I could barely talk to anymore without tripping over my feet. I couldn’t imagine what I would do if I knew that everyone was watching me while I tripped, hoping to catch me doing so.

We turned the corner, nearing the diner. I hoped it wasn’t too busy today. Grayson sometimes stayed if things were a little slow.

“What’s the meeting with Chris about?” I asked, pulling the keys out of my pocket.

He lifted a shoulder, shrugging. “It’s Chris. It could be anything from my mom sending an email, to the whole world knowing about you, to me being out of Hollywood so long my career is over.”

I froze, stuttering to a stop so suddenly that Grayson kept walking a good few feet before he noticed and turned around frowning. “Is that true?” I demanded. “Are you really at risk of losing your career?”

His shoulders straightened, his body stiffening. His face pinched for a moment before relaxing, a smile tugging at his lips as he schooled his expression to something placating. “Of course not,” he said. “It’s fine.”

My limbs felt heavy, but I forced myself to walk anyway. The cold air felt good on my suddenly burning face. “Are you sure?”

He nodded, starting to move again when I caught up with him. We were only a block away from the diner now.

“Positive,” he said, nudging me a bit with his shoulder. “I’ll worry about my manager, you worry about feeding me. I’m thinking scrambled eggs and those pancakes today.”

I couldn’t help myself, I smiled. “Okay.”

“With chocolate chips! And blueberries, I think.” He looked away, his expression dreamy as he considered his breakfast choices. “I love breakfast.”

I laughed, watching him lean against the door frame of Kyle’s, face still light. I unlocked the door and pushed it open, gesturing for him to enter before me. “Help me get the chairs down, and I’ll get your breakfast to you even faster, Your Majesty.”

“Anything for you, diner girl.”

We worked in tandem, silently prepping the diner to open. I slipped in the back when the front was presentable, starting to mix the pancake batter. He fumbled with the old radio above the desk, bopping he’d head along to the tune he’d chosen. I smiled up at him, whipping the batter. I turned the grills on to heat, and he turned on all the lights, flipping the sign to open. I was pulling my first tray of bacon out of the oven when the bell rang, signaling the arrival of customers.

“I’m going to go steal my booth,” he said, snagging a piece of bacon from the tray, laughing when I swatted at him. “Can you make my food when Chris gets here? He’ll just have the same.”

I nodded absently, wrapping the batter up and putting it in the fridge. He placed a quick kiss on my cheek and bounded out of the back room, greeting the people who had seated themselves. I knew he was going to stake his claim on the corner booth with the messed up top. I considered telling him about my own feeling toward the booth, explaining the significance of both it and him being drawn to it. But instead, I shook the thought away and grabbed my order pad. I wasn’t going to bother him with stories about me from before. Besides, I kind of liked seeing him be drawn to the same things I was. It made this whole thing seem less impossible.

The diner was packed, and by the time Alana came in, I was nearly sweating from exertion. I’d made more food than I thought I ever had while by myself, and it didn’t help to see him staring at me from the corner, stretched back with his arms crossed and his legs kicked up on the seat opposite of him. I could feel his eyes trail me every step I took. Any look I tried to shoot him was met with an answering smirk that made me stumble. After spilling three cups of coffee, I tried very hard not to notice him anymore.

The bell rang, and both Alana and I tensed. We were nearly at capacity. I fantasized briefly about shutting the whole place down.

The man who entered was short and had a piercing stare, his gaze sweeping across the room in an accusatory fashion. I bristled from the sneer he wore. His eyes landed, his face softening a bit, and I followed his gaze to see Grayson grinning, waving at the man.

Oh. I nearly rolled her eyes at myself. Of course, this was Chris. I had already met the man, kind of. I decided if I was less busy today I would have recognized him instantly. I delivered the plates I had in my hands, refilling a few drinks before darting into the back to start Grayson’s order. I hoped that Chris actually didn’t mind having what Grayson was having; blueberry chocolate pancakes were a bit much, even if Grayson’s lips tasted extra nice afterward. But Grayson had said to do this, and I wasn’t about to interrupt a meeting with a guy who didn’t even want me to exist to confirm his breakfast order.

I added the chips and the berries, making four large circles on the griddle. I decided to add some sausage to the order, even though Grayson hadn’t asked for it. My sausage turned out really good today and would pair nicely with the eggs I was scrambling, in case Chris didn’t like the pancakes.

As I waited for them to brown and started on another order that Alana handed me, I couldn’t help but think back to all those weeks ago, when I stood nearly exactly here doing nearly the exact same thing.

I wouldn’t have believed that so much could change so quickly if it hadn’t happened to me.

I flipped the pancakes expertly and poured the eggs, adding salt and pepper before a dash of paprika, I slide them alongside the sausage before adding the pancakes.

It looked great. I was a little proud of herself.

“Want me to take those?” Alana asked distractedly, darting toward the sink to drop dishes off.

I waved her off. “They’re for Grayson.”

Alana rolled her eyes, letting out a short laugh, but she smiled as she plated the other order that was finished and took that out instead.

I took a deep breath. Chris hadn’t liked me, but I was determined to change his mind. We only had a few days left and whatever happened, happened. But I wasn’t going to let it be because some manager didn’t like me.

Besides, I thought, heading toward the table, no one can resist my breakfast food.

The two men had their heads ducked, whispering furiously. Grayson’s jaw was tightened, the muscles flexing, and I faltered when I reached their table, afraid to interrupt.

Grayson, though, sensed me coming and his head shot up, his face relaxing as he smiled softly.

“Thank God,” he teased. “I’m starving.”

Chris sat back, crossing his arms. I swallowed hard, bracing myself. Grayson sighed, and I thought I saw him kick Chris under the table.

“Jade,” Chris said through clenched teeth. He rolled his eyes. “I’m Chris. Grayson’s best friend and manager.”

He looked up at me. I quickly set the plates on the table in front of them, wiping my hands on the apron tied around my waist before offering it to Chris.

I cleared my throat. “It’s nice to formally meet you.”

Chris tilted his head, narrowing his eyes at me. I locked the muscles of my body, refusing to fidget as Chris appraised me.

I didn’t blame the manager, not really. He seemed to want what was best for Grayson. We just disagreed on what that was.

After a tense moment, Chris took my hand and shook it. I thought I heard Grayson sigh in relief.

“Well,” I said after dropping Chris’s hand. “Enjoy your food.”

“Can’t you stay?” Grayson asked, hand shooting out to wrap around my wrist. Both Chris and I tracked the movement. My skin burned from the touch, my heart fluttering.

“Sorry,” I murmured. “It’s busy right now.”

Grayson frowned but then seemed to perk up, shrugging. He dropped my hand and picked up his fork. “Later then.”

The breakfast rush eventually died down about an hour later, and Alana left to run errands before she was needed back. I fixed myself a quick coffee and grabbed a muffin, hesitating on my way to sit at an abandoned table near the window. Grayson and Chris were still in the corner booth.

Grayson seemed to sense my hesitation, and his head popped up, hand raising to wave me over. I grinned and went over.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “Mind if I join you for a minute?”

Grayson shook his head quickly. “Please do.”

I sat, offering a quick smile to Chris. He returned it tightly. Great.

I took a sip of coffee, wincing a bit at how hot it was. “So,” I said, clearing my throat delicately and looking between them. “Did you figure out what you needed to?”

Grayson nodded. Chris raised an eyebrow. “Not quite,” he said dryly.

Grayson shot him a look and reached over, pinching a clump of sugar from the muffin and tasting it. “This is really good.”

“Alana,” I explained, taking a bite of the muffin. It was good.

Grayson laughed. “Of course.” He nudged me, silently asking me to get out of the booth. “I’ll be back in a minute. Play nice.”

Chris saluted. I laughed lightly, a little unsure. “Will do.”

I sat back down after Grayson headed off toward the bathroom, lifting my coffee mug to take a sip. Chris watched me with piercing eyes as he swallowed. I blinked, clearing my throat delicately, and starting to feel a bit uneasy from the attention.

Chris propped his chin on his hands, elbows on the table as he narrowed his gaze on me. I sighed and set the mug down.

“What?” And, okay, that wasn’t the politest thing I could say to his—whatever’s best friend. But Chris was just shy of shooting murderous glares at me, and it was my own booth in my diner. The guy could at least pretend when he was around.

Chris smirked. “Ooh, kitten’s got claws.”

I bristled. “I just don’t get what your problem is.”

“Easy,” he replied, sitting up. He put his arms on the back of the booth, stretching. “You are.”

“Me?” Well, I knew that. I didn’t have to sound so surprised. “What did I do?”

He glanced toward the bathrooms, where Grayson had gone to. He turned back to me, shaking his head dismissively. “It’s not about you. You’re just the problem.”

“Oh, so glad you cleared that up.” The sarcasm was a bit much but so was this guy. I could feel my old feisty self surfacing. I was trying, really trying, and I didn’t need some asshole talking riddles.

Chris’s smirk widened. “I like you.”

“Not what I hear.”

Chris tilted his head. “And what is it that you hear?”

He looked interested, genuinely, and I relaxed a bit in my seat, letting my fingers curl around the mug again. “That you wanted Grayson to break up with me.”

“Grayson,” he muttered under his breath. “Christ. Okay. Well, that’s true.”

My eyebrows shot up, jaw falling open a bit. “Oh. Well, yeah.” I hadn’t expected the guy to just come out and admit it.

“But it’s not about you. It’s about Grayson when you’re concerned.” Chris leaned forward, putting his arms on the table, folding his hands together as he spoke, quickly and quietly. “Grayson’s throwing a lot away to be here, you know.”

I frowned. “He has three months off.”

“Had.” Chris corrected.

My stomach flipped unhappily. “What do you mean?”

Chris didn’t reply. His eyes narrowed again, but this time the look was less aggressive and more contemplative. He was measuring me up, and I didn’t have to struggle to sit still. I didn’t know what was going on, not really, but I knew I deserved to know. Chris would see that, too.

And he did, after a moment. Chris nodded sharply, seeming to be satisfied with his evaluation. “Well, diner girl. I’m not supposed to say anything. Grayson,” he said looking at the ceiling briefly before catching my eyes again, “would be furious. But he won’t listen to me. Maybe you will.”

My mouth dried and I struggled to unclench the coffee mug in my hands. My fingers ached a little when I stretched them. I waited.

Chris didn’t need much prompting, it seemed after he made up his mind. “Grayson was supposed to come back a while ago when I first started calling. He had a press circuit that came out of left field for his newest flick, but he refused to come. So I came here to drag him back when the producers threatened to cut him from the sequel. He still didn’t come.”

“He lost a movie because of—” I cut myself off, unable to voice it. I gestured around helplessly.

Chris raised one eyebrow. “Not just that one.”

“What?”

“He’s been auditioning for this movie series for months. Like, literally months and he’d been drooling after the role way before that. It’s not his normal thing, you see,” the frustration in Chris’s voice was heavy and seemed to penetrate into me as well, “it would change everything. He wouldn’t just be some romantic love interest—he’d be the lead to a trilogy adaptation that could open a lot of doors for him.”

“That sounds incredible,” and it really did. I could see how excited Chris was by the premise and knew that Grayson would be, too. He was more than good enough to carry a series on his shoulders, more than ready for roles with bigger stories and better characters. This sounded like his shot at that.

“But he won’t take it,” Chris said bitterly, leaning back again, folding his arms across his chest. “He won’t leave.”

My stomach clenched, and I blinked at the sudden stinging in my eyes. “I—maybe I could talk to him.”

Chris brightened instantly. Apparently, the thought hadn’t occurred to him. His posture straightened and his face erupted in a smile so brilliant, he looked like the kid from Grayson’s stories, not the foe trying to separate us.

“You’ll talk to him?”

“Like hell, she will.”

Grayson stood at the end of the booth. He looked furious; his eyes narrowed on me as his mouth curled in a disgusted frown. “Like hell, you will.”

“Grayson,” My mouth was too dry to talk, my throat too thick to breathe. I stood up quickly, my knees slamming under the table as I scrambled to get out of the booth. I reached for Grayson’s hand, but he recoiled, pulling his arm away.

“Chris,” his voice was smooth, but the edges were sharpened with a greater anger than I had ever heard from him. “You’re going to want to leave now.”

Chris sighed, getting out of the booth slowly. He wasn’t quite amused, but he wasn’t anxious. “The girl has a right to know what you’re doing.”

“It’s my life,” he growled. “It’s my decision.”

“It’s your career,” Chris agreed. He grabbed his jacket and put it on, pulling out his wallet and depositing a few bills on the table. “But it’s her who will deal with your regret. And trust me, you will regret it.”

Grayson’s fists clenched at his sides. He took a step toward him, menacingly, but Chris merely side stepped him and headed toward the door. “I’ll call you later.”

He left, and the diner was quiet. I sank back into the booth, my hands trembling, feeling bewildered. I folded them on the table and stared at them, ignoring Grayson as he slid into the booth across from me, taking Chris’s discarded seat.

“I’m not sorry,” he said after a moment. I glanced up at him to see him watching me, too. His expression was tight.

“I’m not either.”

His lips quirked. “What would you have even been sorry about?”

I shrugged. “Nothing. That’s the point.”

He licked his lips, and I stared at my hands again. Eventually, he elaborated. “It was a good role. But I don’t want it.”

“Why not?”

He ran a hand through his hair, jaw ticking. “It’s—it’s a big commitment. Time wise. I don’t know that I want to go back there.”

“It’s your home,” I argued.

He shrugged it off. “Technically speaking.”

“It’s your job. You’ve worked your whole life for it.”

“And so I think I know better than you if it’s the right move for me.”

“You’re just scared.”

We both stopped short at my rebuttal. It was true, of course, for the both of us. I supposed that was why we clung so tightly to each other in the first place.

“Maybe.” He didn’t bother trying to convince me that he wasn’t. “But I still know that I don’t want to take that job.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“You’ll just—what? Stay here?” I shot back. “Live in a hotel and sneak around so we can hold hands in empty diners.”

“That’s not fair.” He placed his hand over my folded ones, his fingers squeezing tightly. “You know—there’s a reason. The paparazzi—”

“I know,” I relented. “It’s just. This isn’t a life for you. You don’t have a life here.”

He jutted his jaw out, eyes hardening. “I have you.”

My breath caught in my throat. He did have me. But that wasn’t enough.

“That doesn’t matter,” I argued gently. Grayson shook his head fervently as I spoke. “This, whatever it is, isn’t enough.”

“Don’t say that.” His cheeks were tinged a bit pink now. His eyes were that sky blue again, the one that made me warm from the chest out. “It’s not up to you to decide what’s enough for me.”

I couldn’t take this. I realized then, with a start, that Grayson wouldn’t give up. He didn’t have it in him to stop fighting, didn’t realize he was batting for the wrong team. He was going to throw away this movie deal and probably others, all in a stubborn bout of romanticism he’d eventually regret. Chris knew it; I knew it. Grayson didn’t, but Grayson couldn’t. Everything about him was genuine, from the dimple that sometimes formed in the corner of his mouth to the whispered promises that slipped from his lips when our heads were still on the pillows. He liked sweet foods and couldn’t sweep and thought Todd was funny and he was perfect in the mold of my life. But he was also so much more than this. Me, Kyle’s—this would never be enough. He deserved so much that I couldn’t give him.

But I could give him this. I could give him this shove that Chris couldn’t, that Grayson didn’t realize he needed. Grayson had entered my life and made the time start mattering again. I could make sure he didn’t waste any of his.

I could feel my throat closing with the effort to keep my sobs inside my chest and not rake through my whole body, and the effort infuriated me.

“You’re being ridiculous!”

He glared at me. “I’m not!”

“You are. You’re just being stubborn and—and—pigheaded because you can be.” He didn’t even look a bit swayed. “You’re going to, what? Throw your entire life away so you can watch me work in a diner? You’re a movie star.”

“Oh, right, here it is.” He laughed humorlessly. “Maybe I don’t want to just be a movie star anymore!”

“Then try TV!”

He threw his hands up, gesturing around the still blessedly empty diner. “None of that matters, don’t you get it? I was—it wasn’t real. But this—this is real. You and me and blueberry pancakes, Jade. This is real. Everything else—Hollywood or movie stars or whatever, that’s not anything that matters. This is.”

I blinked rapidly, I pulled my hands from underneath his, wrapping my arms around my stomach, desperately trying to hold onto my resolve. Grayson pulled his own hand back more slowly, taking in a deep, shaking breath. His face was open, vulnerability seeping from his pores.

“Fame isn’t real. It’s like you’ve forgotten that I’m just a regular guy.” He hesitated, swallowing thickly. “Just a regular guy falling in love with the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met.”

I froze. Grayson offered me a wary smile.

I could say it back. I could get out from behind this stupid table that I ruined and pull him to me, kiss him senseless, and tell him that I loved him. I could never side with Chris on anything ever again and encourage Grayson to stay here, hoping that he never realized what he gave up.

I could say it back.

But I didn’t.

My life slowed down when Grayson entered it, allowing each moment to be felt and seen and full. Because of this, I felt each agonizing second as I locked my jaw, my eyes trained on the slit in the table, as I refused to say a word.

If I opened my mouth, I’d beg him to stay. And he deserved to go.

Eventually, the door opened, the bell chiming. We both looked up to see Alana, who stopped when she saw our expressions.

I couldn’t look at him. My eyes burned and breathing was so hard. I stood up and went to the back, slamming the storage door shut behind me. I held my breath as I listened. Don’t go.

Alana’s voice was too low to hear when she spoke, but I heard the door when it opened again and shut. Then no voices.

Grayson was gone.

I sank to the floor, pulling my knees up to my chest as I wrapped my arms around them. My every vein was throbbing, each cell of my body aching as my shoulders shook with the effort to contain the pain inside of me.

Grayson was gone.