Page 6 of Chasing Infinity

My mind races as I work to piece together why he’s sleeping in his car like a homeless person when his dad still sits as the mayor of this town. I know he’s not best friends with his father after all that happened between the two of them—and given everything he’s done, I can’t say I’m shocked Noah wouldn’t want Declan’s help. But I still would have hoped that Noah would be well enough to find a place to stay that was a tad bit more comfortable than squishing himself into a car.

I stand there gaping at him like a fool for a few moments, pondering it all, before I snap out of it and turn on my heel, walking away as if I saw nothing. It’s none of my business. I haven’t heard a single peep out of the man since we last connected in New York over five years ago. Despite our history, I don’t know what he’s got going on in his life, so if he wants to sleep in his car, that is fine by me.

I still can’t ignore the constriction of my chest as I walk away, and I find myself peeking over my shoulder once more, looking at the old car. Letting out a frustrated sigh, I shake my head to clear it and hurry back into the diner.

It’s not my business.

The front door jingles as I step in, and I wave at Jack as I bound up the stairs to my flat. I hop in the shower and rinse all the sweat off before drying my hair and finding something presentable to wear for the rest of the day.

My diner is open every day of the week, from six to ten. I try to give myself ample time off during the long daily hours, and I have rotating shifts of people who can cover the front for me when I have to run out. Not to mention my business partner-slash-best friend, Grace, is usually here to help take some of the strain off. However, she’s out of town until tomorrow, visiting her family, which means I’ve been working overtime.

I filter through my closet, pursing my lips as I search to find something to wear. My usual attire consists of jeans or leggings and a variety of long-sleeve shirts. I prefer to keep the diner atmosphere comfortable and laid back, and my wardrobe reflects that.

Settling on a red flannel and boot-cut jeans, I change and throw some makeup on to cover up my cheeks which are still rosy red from my run and the steamy shower. As soon as I’m satisfied with my appearance, I head downstairs.

I jump into the middle of madness with the brunt of the morning rush. People circulate in and out of the diner. Some sit for breakfast while others head straight to the counter to pick up a coffee-to-go and a pastry item of their choice.

I step behind the counter and tap Jack on the shoulder. “How’s it going?”

“Just splendid,” he chirps back, using a pair of silver tongs to pick up a blueberry scone and drop it into a paper bag. “Do you want to pour Sadie a cup of coffee to go? This scone is for her.”

“Of course,” I say and set to my task. As soon as Sadie, who runs the florist shop across the town square, heads out the door with her breakfast, I pour myself a cup of coffee and take a sip, leaning the edge of my hip against the counter. I nearly groan when the warmth of the brew hits my stomach, warming me from the inside out. No morning is complete without a good cup of coffee, which is why I’m so grateful for my staff who can make it.

“Jack, you make a mean pot of coffee. What would I do without you?”

My friend looks at me with a dryly amused expression. “Probably go out of business. What kind of diner owner doesn’t know how to make coffee?”

I laugh and take another sip. “It’s not that I don’t know how to. I’m just not very good at it.”

Jack waves me off and mutters under his breath, “Basically, the same thing.” I roll my eyes, still laughing to myself, and pick up some of the slack from the morning rush.

As soon as eight-thirty hits, the craziness starts to calm down—just as it does every morning once the working class has finished their hustle-and-bustle. With a sigh of contentedness, I pour myself another cup of coffee and reach for a muffin when the door flies open, yanking my attention away from my own breakfast.

A loud and boisterous “There’s my girl!” echoes throughout the diner. I look up right as Eli struts in, his arms splayed wide in a grand show. Charlie follows behind him rolling his eyes at our mutual friend’s obnoxious display of his deep appreciation for me.

As much as I try to fight it, a slight smile tugs on the corner of my lips as Eli circles the counter and wraps his arm around my waist. He pulls my body into his and presses a kiss to my hair. “How are you today, gorgeous?”

I wiggle out of Eli’s grip and step further away from him. I see Jack shake his head out of the corner of my eye at the events unfolding—just your average Friday morning around here. “I’m fine. How are you?”

“I’m great!” he exclaims, moving to the right side of the counter and leaning over on his elbows. He’s receiving a few sideways glances from my customers, and I exhale, equally flattered and annoyed that he feels the need to showboat this way. “It’s Friday. I get to see my girl tonight. There’s nothing that could bring my mood down today.”

Charlie and I meet eyes, and I press my lips together. I instantly register that we’re thinking of the same thing—about someone’s return to town—that would very much bring down Eli’s mood. And it’s someone I just so happened to catch passed out in the backseat of his car this morning. I make a split decision to save that topic for a little later, aware that there are more pressing matters to discuss.

“Um, I was actually going to talk to you about that,” I say, rubbing away a few crumbs resting on the counter. “I have a few things I was hoping to get finished tonight since Grace won’t be back until Sunday. Do you think we could move date night to tomorrow?”

Eli has always worn his feelings for me on his sleeve. My stomach clenches when his expression falls at my request. He hits me with those bright blue puppy dog eyes and I want to immediately apologize for hurting his feelings, but I refrain. “Oh, yeah, that’s fine.”

I’m aware it’s probably notfineto him, but frankly, I don’t have time to see him tonight. With Grace being out of town, I have to pick up her back-office duties with the diner—such as payroll, so I can get my employees’ checks to them on time. In my mind, that takes priority over a date night with Eli, where all we’ll do is eat shitty food, fall into bed, and have mediocre sex.

Sue me.

“Thanks for understanding,” I say simply. I rub my hands together and look at my favorite guys, plastering a smile on my face. “Can I get you two anything to eat?”

“I’ll take a ham and cheese omelet with peppers in it,” Eli says, his mood bouncing back like a springboard.

“I’ll just do an everything bagel with cream cheese and a coffee,” Charlie requests. “Thanks, Addie.”

“Oh, a coffee for me too! Thanks, Addie!” Eli chimes in, and I shake my head in amusement as I plug in their orders.

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