Page 27 of Monster Diner

Given how chaotic her sleep schedule had been, it shouldn’t have been surprising, and yet she had struggled until now to properly sleep in. Maybe exhaustion was overtaking her at last, or maybe it was the way her chest felt lighter. Either way, she practically bounded over to the bathroom to take a steamy shower. When she finished, she went to the kitchen to scrounge up brunch, but when she opened the fridge, she discovered a Tupperware container with a folded-over note and her name written on it.

She took out the Tupperware, set it on the counter, and unfolded the note.

Good morning beautiful, I had to cover at the diner, or I would have been here to greet you. Enjoy your lunch and the rest of your day. See you tonight.

A storm of butterflies swarmed in her stomach. Victor was too good to be true. Charming, an excellent fuck, and caring. Which was exactly why she shouldn’t get too attached. She was falling back into her old habits again. Getting swept up in the anticipation, the excitement of the first blush of romance. It’d been like that with Steven too. He’d been charming on their first date, which he’d organized at the park. He’d brought food that he claimed to make himself. Turned out it was all store-bought, and he’d borrowed the idea from a social media post. It hadn’t been long before he stopped putting in an effort. Right after they moved in together.

Lizzy frowned down at the note and the lunch Victor had prepared for her. This was a fling, a fun-for-the-season entanglement. After Halloween, she’d go live with her mom again, start over on her own. Find another soul-sucking job. Like she wanted. Didn’t she?

Right now, she was loving working at the diner. It was a new and exciting challenge. But how long before the fun wore off, and she started to feel burned out and miserable as she had at every other job?

She sat down and ate her brunch and then decided, rather than mope around the house all day or give into her impulse to go flirt with Victor at the diner in front of their employees, she’d do what she’d set out to do this whole time—take care of herself.

She put on her favorite A-line polka-dot dress, red pumps, and red buckle belt and headed out onto Main Street towards the bookstore at the end of the road. The exterior of the building was brick and dripping with violet flowers, and inside was cozy and cluttered. A table by the entrance had the newest bestsellers, and the shelves were lined with new books and older titles. The bookstore smell hit her with a wave of nostalgia. It’d been years since she’d stepped into a bookstore, and she realized how much she’d missed it.

“Welcome!” the cute violet-haired bookseller behind the counter greeted her. “Let me know if you need help finding anything.”

“Thank you,” Lizzy replied before drifting over to the fantasy section. She’d seen recommendations for romantasy novels often on her social media, and she picked up one with a blue cover and was reading the blurb about the were-dragon and a princess faking their engagement when the bookshop’s tuxedo cat startled her by jumping down from the top of the shelf she was in front of. The shelf shifted a bit, and a book fell with a loud thump.

Lizzy gasped, and the bookshop owner came running.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“I’m okay, the cat surprised me is all.”

“Bramble!” she shouted.

The cat licked its paw and gave Lizzy a smug look.

“It’s really fine,” Lizzy assured her.

The bookstore owner scooped him up, scolding him as she walked away. Lizzy could have sworn she heard him reply. After that brief scare, Lizzy remembered the cat had knocked a book off the shelf. She stooped down to pick it up and froze in place. It was the classic hero with long hair and rippling muscles, his sword thrust towards the sky. Blood of the Gods was Frank’s favorite old-school fantasy novel. She remembered him reading chapters to her nightly in middle school. After she’d moved away, he’d sent her a complete set of the series for her graduation. At the time, the gift had felt selfish, as if he were thrusting his interests on her. Maybe he’d been trying to connect with her in the only way he knew how. Tears pricked at her eyes.

They’d had a good relationship once. She used to proudly declare herself a daddy’s girl. Things shifted when she moved away. She felt as if he had shut her out for betraying him. But maybe she was equally as guilty. She’d sided with her mom and never given him a chance.

She took the book and the romantasy novel to the front counter and checked out. The bookseller wanted to ask her what was wrong. Lizzy’s eyes were red-rimmed. And the other woman’s emotions were swirling with concern and pity. It took everything Lizzy had to keep her composure. As soon as she stepped outside, the tears started to fall. She headed back home, but seeing her childhood home and remembering what her father had left her made her cry harder, rooted to the spot. She wished her dad were here so she could thank him for the books and apologize for not trying harder. For not being there at the end.

She was so wrapped up in her own grief that she didn’t hear Victor approach until he was standing in front of her.

“Lizzy?”

She glanced up at him, tears streaming down her face and snot running from her nose. She hated letting people see her cry. Other people’s feelings could be such a burden, and she didn’t want hers to weigh down on them.

“He died, and I wasn’t even here,” she sobbed.

“No one could have predicted he would die when he did. Let alone Frank. He seemed perfectly healthy.”

“But we never called. He stopped calling me, and I stopped chasing after him. If I hadn’t…”

He pulled her into a tight embrace. His body enveloped her as he rubbed circles into her back with his large hands. The steady rhythm soothed her. She hiccupped and then sniffled.

“Let’s go inside,” he murmured against the top of her head.

He opened the door for her, one broad hand against the small of her back, and led her indoors. Inside, he took her bag of books and started the coffee pot as she stood in the living room, staring off into the middle distance, past Igor, who shuffled back and forth on his perch. She wanted to sink into that numb feeling and escape this crushing grief, but she couldn’t seem to find it. Just depthless grief.

Victor sat on the couch and pulled her into the gap between his legs. Her back was against his chest, and his steady heartbeat an anchor to reality. His arms cocooned her, and she relaxed against him.

“I’m so embarrassed, crying like this in front of you,” she said.