Page 13 of Madness

I try my best to just freaking focus on the orders in front of me. What am I doing? I barely know the guy. But after last night's conversation, I can't help but feel like maybe, just maybe, there's a connection there.

"Order up for table six!" Jen's voice cuts through my thoughts.

I grab the plates, forcing a smile as I deliver them to a family of four. The little boy at the table reminds me of Roman, and I feel a pang of guilt. I should be home with him, not here hoping for a glimpse of some rockstar who probably doesn't even remember my name.

Roman's fever finally broke, but the doctor confirmed another ear infection. Third one this year. The antibiotics are going to stretch our budget even thinner, and with Shannon's bombshell about when she’s moving to Seattle, I’m running out of time to get my life straightened out.

"Three weeks," she'd said over coffee, not quite meeting my eyes. "The show starts filming in three weeks. I have to go, Lauren."

I'd nodded, trying to be supportive, but inside, I was panicking. How am I going to manage rent on my own? Childcare? School? It's all too much.

The bell jingles again, and I look up, hope rising despite myself. But it's just another regular, sliding into his usual stool at the counter.

No Dakota.

It's stupid to be disappointed. He probably said he'd come back just to be polite. Why would he actually want to spend time in some run-down diner when he could be anywhere else?

"Earth to Lauren," Jen says, waving a hand in front of my face. "You okay? You seem distracted."

I force a laugh, hoping it doesn't sound as hollow as it feels. "Yeah, just tired. Roman's been sick."

Jen nods sympathetically. "Poor little guy. Hope he feels better soon."

As she walks away, I can't help but wonder what Dakota's doing right now. Is he at some fancy Hollywood party? In the recording studio? Or maybe he's just at home, having completely forgotten about the waitress he talked to last night. Or, better yet, he’s out with some hot model or something. That’s probably more likely.

The night wears on, and the weight in my chest grows heavier with each passing hour. By closing time, I'm full of disappointment and self-directed anger. How could I be so naive? To think that someone like him would be interested in someone like me?

As I wipe down the last table, I make a decision. No more daydreaming about rockstars. I need to focus on what's real. Roman. Finding a way to make ends meet without Shannon. Nursing school. Improving our future. That's what matters.

Not some guy who couldn't even be bothered to show up.

The last customer finally leaves, and I flip the sign to "Closed" with a sigh of relief. My feet ache, and I only want to get home to Roman. As I gather my things and head out the back door, I'm already planning tomorrow's budget in my head. Maybe if I cut back on?—

I freeze mid-step. There's a figure leaning against my car, illuminated by the dim parking lot lights. My heart races, fear and adrenaline coursing through me until I recognize the silhouette.

Dakota.

He looks up as I approach, and even in the poor lighting, I can see he's a mess. His hair is disheveled, dark circles under his eyes, and his clothes look slept in. But his eyes are clear, alert.

"Lauren," he says, straightening up. His tall frame casts a long shadow. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

I approach cautiously, my earlier disappointment warring with concern and a hint of anger. "What are you doing here?"

He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture that seems more nervous than rockstar cool. "I... I wanted to apologize for not coming in earlier. I didn't want to bother you while you were working, but I really wanted to see you."

I cross my arms, trying to ignore the flutter in my chest at his words. "So, you decided to lurk in the parking lot instead?"

He winces. "Yeah, I realize now how creepy that sounds. I'm sorry. I just... I wondered if we could talk for a while? If you're not too tired, that is."

I should say no. I should get in my car and drive home to my son. But something in Dakota's eyes, a vulnerability I hadn't seen before, makes me hesitate.

"Talk about what?" I ask, softer this time.

He shrugs, looking almost shy. "Anything. Everything. I just... I had a rough night, and talking to you yesterday, it helped. More than you know."

I study him for a moment, weighing my options. Finally, I sigh. "There's a 24-hour diner a few blocks from here. We can grab a coffee if you want."

Relief washes over his face. "Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks."

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