Page 62 of A Simple Regret

She nods. “Yes.” She pulls her keys out of her purse and adds, “Let’s go.”

I take Theo over to the side with his car seat and open the door. While I get him situated and listen to him tell me all about his day at daycare, Maren starts her vehicle to warm the engine.

“Do you want to drive?” she asks, climbing from the driver’s seat.

“You can.”

Once the buckles are secured, I stand up and shut the door. When I turn, Maren seems shocked. “What?” I ask, confused.

“You never used to let me drive,” she replies, making me laugh.

“I was a dumb kid once too, Shortcake,” I say. “It’s your vehicle. You can drive.”

She flashes a small smile and climbs behind the wheel. “All right.”

When I reach the passenger side and buckle myself into the seat, we head out. “Still thinking you want the diner?”

She nods, a little twinkle lighting her eyes. “Yeah. I’ve been dreaming about a strawberry shortcake all day,” she replies, and even though it’s dark out, I don’t miss the faint blush creeping across her cheeks.

“Then that’s what you’ll have,” I reply.

“I pwaydid with the trucks, Cam!”

“You did?” I ask, twisting in the seat so I can catch sight of Theo. “I used to love playing with trucks too. They were my favorite, and now I play with them for a living.”

He seems confused.

“I fix cars and trucks when they break down,” I state, telling the three-year-old.

“I hewp?”

“You want to help me fix something?”

He nods eagerly.

“All right. Maybe this weekend you can come over for a little bit and help me work on my truck, like you did with your mom’s vehicle. Sound good?”

“Yep!”

We pull into the parking lot of the diner and park.

“Cheese,” Theo bellows, kicking his feet in anticipation of whatever he’s going to have for dinner.

“Hang on, little dude,” I tell him, climbing from the passenger seat and moving to his door. The moment the buckles are released, he practically leaps from the seat and into my arms.

I close his door and turn my attention to the woman beside me. “Ready?”

She nods, looking ahead at the diner we’re about to enter. “Yes.”

I don’t move, but I do take her hand. “You’re probably going to be recognized. They’ll probably talk.”

Her attention turns toward me. “Because we’re together?”

I nod.

With a quick second glance at the diner’s front entrance, she replies, “I’m okay with that if you are.”

“I’m fine,” I assure her. “But they’ll definitely talk.”