Despite my triple-digit high-speed run to the diner, the door was locked when we arrived. By my watch, we were a few minutes early. Abby, as excited as a kid on Christmas day, pounded on the door as if she was trying to knock it down.

“He’s in the back,” she said. “He always cleans the kitchen last.”

George peered over the ledge of the pass-through opening. After recognizing us, he shook his head and turned away. A moment later, he burst through the swinging doors and into the dining area.

With his arms swinging at his sides and his head held high, he marched to the front door and removed the keys from his pocket.

After fumbling with the lock for a moment, he pushed the door open just wide enough to fit his head in the crack. He glared at Abby. “What in the name of fuck is going on?” He shifted his eyes to me and grinned. “Evening, Porter.”

I gave a nod. “George.”

Abby tossed her hands high in the air. “We’re in love.”

He glanced at each of us and then fixed his eyes on Abby. “You two have been drooling over each other since the first day you brought him in here. I’m not dirtying up my kitchen to celebrate something that I’ve been knowing for the last month or so.”

“Stop being so grumpy,” she said. “I’m excited.”

“I’m excited, too.” He grinned a cheesy tooth-revealing grin. “See?”

She put her hands on her hips. “We saw Luke Westham at the Mission Valley Theater. He grabbed my arm and called Porter an asshole. Porter knocked him out cold.”

He looked at me and arched one of his oversized eyebrows. “The creepy running back for the Chargers?”

“That’s the one,” I said.

“I’d planned on kicking that dip-shit’s ass myself, but he never cashed in the free lunch vouchers I sent him on Facebook.” He pushed the door open. “Well, hell’s bells, get your asses in here. That’s cause for celebration.”

Abby walked past him and turned around. “You sent him lunch vouchers?”

“Four or five times after that last series of emails he sent you. Told him he was a random winner. Offered all you can eat pancakes and ham for free. Son-of-a-bitch never showed up. Figured Lawson and I would tune him up if he did.”

I laughed. “Which one’s Lawson?”

“Tall kid with the scar on his face.”

That would have been a fight worth seeing. Lawson was at least six-feet-six, and weighed two fifty, easily. His hands came to rest right beside his knees, which would have given him a six-inch reach on the football player.

I chuckled. “You could have sold tickets to that fight.”

“If they would have sold tickets to yours, there’d be a bunch of people wanting refunds,” Abby said with a laugh.

“Why’s that?” George asked.

“He hit him five times in two seconds, and then Luke fell in a pile,” Abby said. “It was over before it started.”

George offered his hand. “Good work, Porter.”

I shook his hand. “He got what he deserved.”

“So.” He looked at Abby. “What’ll it be?”

“To celebrate the fight?”

He smiled a genuine smile. “Wasn’t falling in love item number two on the list?”

“It was.”

“Technically, we’re closed,” he said. “As long as no money changes hands, we can have a glass of champagne.”

“You’ve got champagne?” Abby asked excitedly.

“Got a couple of bottles in the back for such an occasion,” he said.

Abby looked at me.

I shrugged. “I’ve never been in love with anyone. It’s a pretty big deal for me.”

“Big deal for me, too,” George said, shifting his eyes from Abby to me as he spoke. “Be right back.”

In a few minutes, we were seated in Abby’s favorite booth, right next to the kitchen. Each of us had a ruby red plastic tumbler filled with champagne. George raised his over the center of the table.

“Raise your glass for these two lost souls, for they’ve finally found their fate. May this toast keep them as one, ‘till they reunite at heaven’s gate.”

We clanked our glasses together and took a drink.

Abby lowered her glass. “I like that. Where’d it come from?”

“I made it up,” George said.

“Just now?” she asked.

“Just now.”

I liked what he said, short of the heaven’s gate thing. Nonetheless, I offered a smile and a nod. “That was nice.”

“I’m about two percent Irish, according to that ancestry DNA thing,” he said. “The Irish always give witty toasts. I thought I’d make something up. Rolled off the tongue pretty easily.”

“I liked it,” Abby said.

“I hope this lasts forever,” George said. “If anyone deserves it, it’s the two of you.”

Forever ended when either of our clocks stopped ticking. Although we were the same age, my forever and Abby’s forever weren’t the same. Since meeting Abby, I’d avoided questions about my condition, all but lying to her – and to myself – about the cancer that ate away at my chance of having a meaningful forever with her.

Admitting that I loved her opened a floodgate of emotion, and of possibilities. I could see my future with her, and I liked what I saw. It was time for me to cast my insecurities aside, become a responsible lover, and seek treatment for my cancer. I owed it to her, and to myself, to take care of my health the best that I was able.

I took a silent sip of what remained of my champagne, hoping my decision wasn’t made too late.