“M ay I have please a slice of that delicious looking pie there, Missy ?”

“Apple or cherry ?”

“Oh, apple. Definitely apple .”

I smiled at Mr. Johnston, one of Mae’s oldest customers. I remembered him well. He didn’t tip much but he was a total sweetheart. A lot of the older customers had real manners. He was a true gentleman .

I always got a real smile from Mr. Johnston. And that was worth a dozen tips. I knew he had a limited income. He came in a few times a week as a treat and tipped what he could .

I didn’t mind a bit .

I even gave him extra whipped cream .

“Anything else? Coffee ?”

He hesitated and I could hear him mentally calculating the cost .

“It’s on the house .”

He grinned like a child and I went to get his pie and coffee. I was just writing up his check when I felt it. The air in the room changed. Warmed up. I could feel the electricity zapping around the diner .

My skin got hot. My stomach did a little flip flop. And my cheeks got tingly. I could tell my face was bright red .

Only one person had ever had that effect on me .

And I knew, I absolutely knew that he’d just walked into Mae’s .

Whiskey was here .

I was almost afraid to turn around, to see. But I couldn’t help myself either. Whiskey stood by the door, his eyes boring right into me. They were blazing, giving off so much heat I immediately started sweating .

Not cute girl in a yoga commercial sweating. The guy in the movies who has to deactivate a bomb sweating. Mowing the lawn in July sweating .

He just stared at me for the longest time. He looked like he was in shock. Like he was relieved but real, real mad at the same time .

I realized we were staring at each other like two fools and hustled to check my other tables. By the time I finished, he was sitting at the counter, watching me .

My throat was dry so I took a sip of water. Then I walked over to him, cool as a cucumber. At least I hoped it looked that way, anyhow .

“Can I take your order ?”

He looked at me, not saying a word. I started to fidget under the intensity of his gaze. Finally, he spoke .

“You know what I want .”

“No, I really don’t .”

“Same as usual .”

“Fine. Strawberry shake and fries .”

He gave me a slow nod. He really did look happy to see me. That was just because he didn’t know he’d been busted with those girls !

“This is not the end of this, Rebecca .”

I gave him a stern look but decided not to dignify his comment with an answer. It hurt to see him. Part of me wanted to throw myself into his lap and hold on tight. The other part of me wanted to cry at the thought of him with those club girls. And all the other girls he must have been with since that night .

The other part of me wanted to smack him .

Hard .

Instead I just made his shake. I knew how he liked it. Extra strawberries with two scoops of vanilla. Full fat milk. And a single squirt of chocolate syrup .

I’d never tasted one of his but it smelled freaking delicious .

Personally, I always went right for a double chocolate one. I was powerless against chocolate .

Not lately though. I hardly did anything nice like that for myself anymore. Fun was a foreign concept these days. I didn’t have time for anything except work, sleep, and Eliza .

Of course, she was well worth all the work, stretch marks and sleepless nights. And then some .

I stole a glance at him as I refilled coffees. Our baby really did look like him. And she was just a baby! For the rest of my life I was going to be looking at his handsome face and sparkly blue eyes .

Even if I ran .

So I might as well face up to it. To my feelings. To him .

But not tonight .

I slid the fries to him. He’d barely started on the shake. I frowned. He did look a little gaunt, come to think of it. He’d always been lean, thickly well-defined muscles but not much fat .

Not like, me, Miss Rolly Polly .

Was he sick or something? Or working out more? Or was he… sad? Depressed or something ?

I couldn’t help the little frisson of worry that started in my belly. I hadn’t wanted to see Whiskey at all after what he’d done, but I didn’t want him to get sick or anything .

In fact, it kind of made me feel better knowing he was out there, imperfect as he was. He was a good person deep down, even if he was a dog with women. But so many men were .

It was part of the flawed human condition .

Maybe someday I’d find a man who wanted me and me alone .

“When can we talk ?”

I blinked. I’d been idly cleaning the counter, I realized. Washing the same spot over and over again. Just a few stools down from Whiskey .

Ugh, I hoped he didn’t read into that. I wasn’t trying to get his attention or anything. Even if it looked like I’d been making myself available .

I snapped “not now” without thinking. He looked a bit startled .

“You owe me a conversation, Rebecca .”

Ouch. If only he knew. I owed him so much more than a conversation .

But I was not ready to face him. Definitely not when I was working a double to try and keep Mae’s doors open. Not until I was ready. Prepared to deal with this .

I just hoped he didn’t lie .

I walked away, forcing myself to the stockroom to get started on closing prep. I’d have to refill the napkin holders, salt and pepper shakers and maybe even the ketchup bottles before the night was over .

When I came back, Whiskey was gone. He’d left two twenties, which was way too much money for his food .

I did feel a sense of relief but there was something else, as much as I didn’t want to admit it .

I was a little bit disappointed too .