Page 59 of The Accidental Honeymoon

"Can you believe this place?" Jay says, his eyes sparkling with genuine delight. It's infectious, that sparkle. Dangerous.

"It's amazing,” I say with an exaggerated shrug. “I’m not living out my dreams right now or anything."

“Noted.” Jay’s expression is one of amusement. “Shall we?”

A woman in a Waffle House apron greets us and hands us a sample waffle on a paper plate. "Enjoy, y'all!"

We walk around the diner. There are informational displays scattered about, and small clusters of museum visitors talking to employees.

I grab the waffle from Jay’s hand and tear off a chuck. Ipop it into my mouth, mmming as the buttery, carby flavor hits my taste buds. "So good," I moan, offering Jay the plate. "You have to try it."

He takes the smallest piece of waffle imaginable and pops it in his mouth. He nods. “It’s good.”

“That’s all you have to say?” I ask. “Good lord.”

“We’ve been through this. I’m just not a big dessert-for-breakfast fan.”

“You’re crazy. This is not just breakfast.”

I focus on the exhibits: old menus, vintage uniforms, a timeline of Waffle House milestones. It's charming, in a low-rent kind of way. Like a yard sale curated by someone's grandmother.

One display catches my eye: a laminated list of "short order slang." I read it aloud, testing the words on my tongue. "Scattered, smothered, and covered. Top it. Wind the clock.” I arch a brow at Jay. “Do I sound cool?”

“The coolest,” he assures me. "You thinking of a career change?"

"Just getting into character," I say. I clear my throat and adopt my best short-order cook voice. " I'll take a Wind the Clock with a Double Bubble, lasso the hog, and, uh, Chicken in the Coop, on the fly!" I throw in a dramatic flourish, waving an imaginary spatula.

He laughs, the sound warm and rich. "You're ridiculous."

"You love it," I say, smirking. For some reason, my cheeks flush. I’m having too much fun vibing with my fake husband.

Before I can dig deeper into this roleplay, a woman in a Waffle House apron approaches us with a clipboard. "Y'all want to try your hand at makin' a waffle? We got a station set up in theback."

“I defer to the Waffle House fan girl. What do you think?” Jay asks me, but I’m already rushing to follow the woman. Jay pulls out his phone and starts filming. I shoot him a sour look. He’s always after content, even when I am genuinely having a moment over here.

The station is a small kitchenette with a waffle iron and a griddle. The woman hands us each an apron and gives us a quick rundown on how to pour the batter in the griddle and close it, flipping the whole thing in the process.

Jay ties his apron with a flourish, but fumbles making the first waffle.

“Whoa!” I step in, gently touching his hand to correct him. “You need more batter.”

With my help, he pours the second waffle with more success. He catches my eye and grins. I stick my tongue out at him. He grabs me by the waist and hauls me against his body. “If this is what it takes to make you playful, I’ll get a waffle maker at home,” he promises. “I love seeing your devilish side.”

I blush scarlet when I realize that he’s filming this. He dips me back and ravishes me with a kiss that goes on too long. By the end, I’m breathing hard. “You’re a beast,” I tell him.

“Only for you,” he says. “I’m well-behaved for every other girl in the world.”

I enjoy clinging to his chest for another moment before reluctantly letting go. Today, I’m excited. And Jay is only amplifying my good mood.

We’ve always had chemistry but today is like we have achieved nuclear fission.

We make a decent-looking waffle and cut it in half. I haphazardly drizzle my half with syrup, and a little spillsonto my hand. Before I can reach for a napkin, Jay takes my hand in his.

The world slows. Our eyes lock. I see something raw and unguarded in his eyes. He lifts my hand. For a heart-stopping moment I think he's going to kiss it.

Instead, he pops my fingers into his mouth, his eyes never leaving mine.

A soft sigh leaves me, unbidden. I knowjustwhat Jay can do with that mouth of his.

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