Page 28 of Monster Diner

“Cry all you need. Don’t hold back. I’m here,” he murmured against her ear.

That was when the dam broke, and she let go of the ugly cries she’d been holding back since she’d first learned her dad died. Victor didn’t once rush her or ask her if she was finished. He held her until her crying had faded to small hiccups, then nothing at all. She scrubbed away her tears.

In the quiet that followed, she felt compelled to confess, “I know why he left me his half of the diner. We used to be close, Frank and I. I used to tell him I’d take over the family business. I loved it in high school. I forgot how much. But then things started going sour between him and Mom. Dad just sort of shut me out, and it was either stay with the emotionally distant parent, or leave everything behind to follow Mom. I chose Mom.”

“I understand,” Victor said.

“That’s what Frank said too. But I was convinced he resented me after. Maybe he just felt guilty. He sent cards on my birthday and holidays. But that was it. Our conversations got shorter and shorter. I felt like he stopped caring, so I did too.”

“That must have been hard.”

“It was.” She choked on the words. “I didn’t realize that he actually gave a shit until I came back and saw all this evidence that he felt differently. I feel awful for thinking he didn’t care.”

“You were trying to survive too. It can’t have been easy. He understood. He loved you unconditionally.”

“Were you close with him?”

“Very. I’d say he was like a father to me, but that’d make us siblings and that’s… weird given what we did last night.”

She laughed. “Yeah, don’t say that…” She squeezed her thighs together, trying to ignore the way her pussy clenched at the thought of his thick, ridged dick thrusting into her. Last night had been incredible. But it had to have been a onetime occurrence, or she’d risk getting too attached. She was already more invested than she should be.

“He was my mentor. I didn’t have an easy childhood. My creator… he made me to be the perfect son—athlete, valedictorian, and future Harvard Law graduate all rolled into one.” He sighed, his warm breath fanning against the back of her neck and raising the hairs there. She wanted to turn and look at him, to read his expression since she couldn’t feel his emotions. But together in the dark living room, sharing secrets felt more like a confessional and less like deepening intimacy. So she stayed still and let him continue.

“Even though I was made, I still aged and grew like a human. He wanted me to be this emotionless robot, but I am human and I wanted things… A normal life, to hang out with friends, to make my own choices. He didn’t like that. And then, like many teens, I started to rebel. We fought over my small rebellions, my defiance.

“Then the pressure got to be too much for me. I dropped out of high school a month before graduation, got my GED, and told him I wanted to cook for a living. He was livid, as you can imagine, and tore me apart before kicking me out. Frank took me in and gave me a job and a place to stay until I could get back on my feet and rebuild myself—literally.”

She was silent for a beat. “I never knew,” she said. But there were a lot of things she didn’t know about her father apparently. In a small way, it made her resent Victor for getting that version of her father that she never got to meet.

“I wanted you to see that side of him, but he hid it from most everyone. He would never take credit for it, but he and that diner saved me. I found something just for me that I was passionate about, and he nurtured that in a way no one else had. It’s why I put my life savings into buying half the diner. Why I keep fighting for it even now. I know he made mistakes, but he was genuinely a good guy who loved you more than anything, Lizzy. When he did talk, it was about you.”

And as much as she wanted to be angry. She knew he meant it. Victor was kind and sincere.

“I wish he’d shown that side to me more.” She sighed.

“Me too,” Victor said.

“This time of year is especially hard without him. Everywhere I look, I’m reminded of him. He loved Halloween. We always watched cheesy horror movies, a different campy one every night leading up to Halloween. He’d do up the diner in those fake cobwebs and stuff. He loved all that.” She sighed.

“Would it help to watch those movies?” he asked.

She sniffled. “I dunno, maybe?”

“We could do it in a couple days when we’re both off. Stream a couple films, make popcorn. Think of it like a memorial to him.”

That sounded nice. She hadn’t properly mourned her dad since his death. It’d just been this locked box at the back of her mind.

“You don’t have to do all that for me,” she said.

“But I want to. It’ll be your day off, and you’ve helped me a ton. We could do anything you wanted.”

“Even go thrifting?” she asked. Steven hated thrift stores, said they smelled moldy.

“We could definitely go thrifting. Maybe even get a sweet treat from the bakery.”

“You had me at sweet treat,” she said.

“It’s a date.” He grinned.