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TWENTY-THREE

MICKEY

I hadn’t hovered by the living room window in this house since I was a kid, spending the night with my grandparents and waiting for Grandpa to bring me a slice of pie from the diner. I loved our maple custard pie, but it didn’t taste as good as Amos.

A car approached, but as it drove by, I saw it wasn’t Amos’s sedan. I continued pacing as a giddiness swelled within me at whatever surprise he had planned for us.

After Bo’s unexpected visit, I’d convinced myself that I would only get time with Amos in a festival capacity until he moved back to Boston and became part of my highlight reel for the year.

More like starred in it. Initially, I’d been pretty pissed at Bo for basically asking us to stop seeing each other or whatever we were doing.

Then the reasonable voice reared its annoying head and pointed out that he was only expressing a realistic concern for his two friends.

He was right, anyway. Amos would be moving away soon, and it would hurt like hell when he did.

I’d gone and let myself get attached to the one person I shouldn’t.

The rumble of another engine had me eagerly looking out the window once more. Amos pulled into the driveway and parked behind my car. There was something about the sight of his car in the driveway instead of the street that made me yearn for something more with him.

Before Amos had a chance to get out, I was already out my front door and locking it.

I bounded down the wet steps as safely as I could while rain fell around me.

I slid into the passenger seat, and before saying anything, I leaned across the console and kissed him.

He initiated tonight, now it’s my turn to make an effort.

A slow smile spread over Amos’s face. “Now this is the energy everyone should bring to a date.”

“Is that what this is? A date?”

Amos searched my eyes before nodding. “I want it to be. That okay with you?”

“More than. I know things are murky, at best, but right now I know that I want to spend time with you, however I can get it.”

His smile grew. “Me too.” Then he reached into the back seat and handed me a navy gift bag with white tissue paper.

“What’s this?”

“A gift for our date.”

Eagerly, I yanked the tissue paper out to reveal two books.

“One is a memoir from an upstate New York cheese maker who started out casually making cheese in his kitchen and grew it into a thriving business selling around his region and community. The other is a debut fantasy novel by an author in Burlington. It had good reviews.”

“This is incredibly thoughtful. Thank you,” I said with deep sincerity. I wasn’t sure if this was his version of gifting a date flowers or if it had something to do with his plans for the evening.

“You’re welcome. Excited for our adventure?” Amos’s voice was full of anticipation as he backed out of my driveway.

“I am. You going to tell me what we’re doing?”

“Nope,” he said happily.

I laughed. “All right.”

“About Tuesday?—”

“Can we talk about?—”

He briefly took his eyes off the road to smile at me. “You go first.”

I took a moment to gather my thoughts. “I was hoping we could talk about what Bo said. I don’t know about you, but to me, things have felt off, I guess, since then.”

Amos blew out a breath. “Me too. I want to be pissed at him, but I can’t.” He turned onto a road heading away from Maplewood. A night out in another town where we didn’t have to worry about prying eyes or nosy bloggers? Yes, please.

“Same. From a business perspective, I’m thrilled about the attention on Red’s, and I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize it.

I haven’t seen my dad this happy about something in years.

” We’d never had a lot of financial wiggle room at the diner, and I suspected Dad’s finances were the same.

My parents had never been great about hiding their financial issues, so as a kid, I’d taken on that burden too.

Especially when they had to pay off Matty’s medical bills after he passed.

“But I’m just so tired of putting the diner before everything else. ” Before my own happiness.

The lunch I’d scarfed down between customers hours ago soured in my stomach. I felt like the world’s shittiest son for admitting that aloud, but I was so damn grateful to Amos for giving me space to do it. He wouldn’t judge me for it.

“You might as well be reading my mind.” His grip tightened on the steering wheel. “It’s not fair.” Amos glanced at me quickly before making a turn toward Montpelier. “There’s something special here, right?”

“Absolutely,” I said sincerely. “That’s why I’m feeling so resentful. Instead of having the challenge of figuring our shit out like anyone else, it’s like we have the weight of the town and our families’ livelihoods on our shoulders. No pressure.”

Amos squeezed my leg before returning his hand to the steering wheel.

“Let’s take it one day at a time and worry about things as they come.

We don’t need to know the future, but I like spending time with you, and I want to keep doing it.

Even if that means leaving town for dates or spending our time at your place. ”

“That works for me.” There was one more thought niggling in my mind.

“What about Bo and what he said about us? I understand why he’s concerned, but…

” I’d given it a lot of thought, and if any of my other friends had gotten together, I’d have probably said the same thing to them.

But for all Bo knew, his words could’ve killed whatever was germinating between Amos and me, like tromping through a field of wildflowers just bursting through the topsoil in early spring.

“But he shouldn’t have said anything. Not in that moment, anyway.

He was as caught off guard as us, and I know he’s coming from a place of valid concern.

That said, there are no guarantees. We’re mature enough to try not to hurt each other, no matter what happens.

And look at us communicating like adults. ” He grinned. “Bo would be proud.”

As I laughed, I relaxed into the seat, feeling so much lighter having gotten that conversation out of the way. Now we could have a great first date.

Our conversation seamlessly shifted into lighter topics like our favorite towns to visit in the area and our first big driving adventures when we’d gotten our licenses. I enjoyed filling in the gaps in my patchy knowledge of Amos from over the years.

Best of all, we didn’t talk about the diners the rest of the drive, and hopefully not again for the rest of the night. I wanted to be on a date with the cute and thoughtful guy I was falling hard for, without the rest of the baggage crowding us.

We crossed over the Winooski River and passed by the Vermont State House with its gold dome and a lit Christmas tree in front of the stately white pillars.

Amos turned onto Main Street, where most buildings were federal style in shades of beige and terra cotta with either painted or brick exteriors.

The rain had eased up, but the droplets the windshield wipers couldn’t reach gave a bokeh effect to the warm-white lights hanging from leafless trees and shop windows.

“Score!” Amos turned on his blinker—traffic politeness was as sexy as being kind to servers—and waited for an SUV to finish reversing out of a spot in front of a popular wine bar I’d visited a time or two.

I’d been so distracted by the charming garland and wine-themed ornaments hanging in the windows that I hadn’t noticed the sign near the entrance that read Silent Book Club: Tonight at 7!

“Silent book club?” I gave him a questioning look.

He reached into the back seat and retrieved a book from one of my favorite high fantasy series. “Ever been to one?”

“What is it?”

“Everyone brings a book and reads. No talking.”

“That’s why you bought me books.” This man is so thoughtful. I needed to figure out how not to mess things up so he would stick around.

“I know you like reading, and I took a guess that you might enjoy getting to do that among like-minded introverts, plus a token extrovert.” He grinned. “I’m sure you get tired of talking all day at work.”

I’d never felt so understood. Leaning in, I pressed a soft kiss to Amos’s lips. “Thank you for seeing me.”

“Hopefully the books I picked up aren’t shit.”

Laughing, I practically floated from the car, and as soon as we met in front of it, I grabbed his hand because this was a date, dammit, and we weren’t in Maplewood.

“From what I read in the reviews, this place has a strong cheese selection. Lots of local stuff on their charcuterie boards. Could be a good place for some networking.” He winked.

I chuckled. Amos was an idea machine. One minute, he was problem-solving logistics for delivering meals to those who couldn’t attend the Christmas Eve Community Dinner in person, and the next, he was hilariously spitballing menu ideas for a restaurant that only served pickles or dropping brilliant nuggets of how I could get Mystic Rind out in the community.

It was one of the many things I adored about him.

The wine bar door swung open and two laughing women exited. It took my brain a moment to process the familiar figure.

“Mom?” Amos and I asked in unison.

Mom spun in my direction, eyes wide in surprise, while Mrs. Flynn’s attention dropped to my and Amos’s joined hands. I immediately let go like a kid busted sneaking into the cookie jar, but I regretted it immediately because I wasn’t ashamed of being seen with Amos.

“What are you doing here?” I asked incredulously. Mom lived over in Burlington.

Mom and Mrs. Flynn locked eyes and a look passed between them.

“Let’s find somewhere to talk,” Mom said.

AMOS

I must’ve driven Mickey and myself through a portal into another dimension. That was the most logical explanation for how we’d ended up sitting across from our moms at a café with coffees quickly cooling between us.

The silence was oppressive. I clung to the warmth from Mickey’s thigh against mine and the press of our feet together to get me through.

“Are you going to tell us what’s going on?” Mickey’s tone was sharper than I’d ever heard, with accusation lacing his words.

Could I blame him? I was gobsmacked and, quite frankly, hurt, but Mickey had lived this Sparky’s versus Red’s feud day in, day out, his entire life.

This had to be a new development because there was no way we would’ve been clueless about our moms being friendly.

Though since Mickey’s mom, Carla, had never worked at Red’s, I guessed I hadn’t seen her around the events where Sparky’s and Red’s both had food booths.

“Beth and I have been friends for a long time,” Carla said gently.

“How long?” I asked.

“Years before you were born, sweetheart.” Mom reached over and covered my hand with hers.

Carla glanced at Mom. “We got to talking one day while in a waiting room at the doctor. We were each pregnant with Matty and Sage at the time.”

“Carla was the only person I could confide in about the diner and everything that comes with it,” Mom said.

I shot Mickey a look.

“So you’ve been secret friends for decades?”

Mickey’s wounded tone broke my heart. I wanted to wrap him in a hug.

“Yes,” Carla said plainly. “I don’t expect you to understand, but carrying the town’s expectations can be a burden.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Mickey said harshly, then squeezed his eyes closed. “Sorry.”

“Honey, don’t be. I know this is a lot to take in.”

“Aren’t you tired of it?” I asked.

Both Mom and Carla nodded without hesitation.

“But it’s what we signed on for when we married your dads,” Mom said. “I heard about the rivalry before I even knew your dad’s name when I got to town. It’s bigger than us.”

“Why?” I pressed. “Would it really be so bad if the town knew you were friends and that Mickey and I are”—I glanced at him—“friends too?”

“Maybe not, but it never seemed worth the risk,” Carla said.

“The sneaking around for shopping dates and catching up over wine has always been part of the fun anyway.” Mom knocked her shoulder against Carla’s, who let out a bright laugh in response.

Carla sobered. “We’ve supported each other through the difficult times.” She gave Mickey a meaningful look.

I was glad my mom could be there for Carla during the hardest times, like when Matty died and through her divorce, but this still stung like a betrayal. What else didn’t we know?

He gave me a questioning look. I nodded.

“Thanks for the coffee. I think we’re going to head out.”

Mom looked like she wanted to say more, but she closed her mouth. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” she said.

“Does Sage know?”

She looked pained as she shook her head.

“I won’t say anything to them.”

Mickey and I left the café in silence. Once we reached the street with rain falling around us, I turned to him.

“Still want to go to silent book club?” I asked.

“I’m so grateful for your thoughtfulness with that great date idea. I think I just want to go home and process this.”

“Of course. I totally get it.” I worked to keep the disappointment from my voice. I wasn’t disappointed in him, but that another special night had been ruined by others. It made me feel better that he felt comfortable enough with me to say when he needed space.

“Maybe we can pick up takeout from somewhere on the way home? My fridge is kind of empty, unless you don’t mind ketchup and wilted lettuce for dinner.”

My spirits lifted. “Takeout is a great idea.” He wanted to process the developments with me there? I tried not to get too hopeful, but damn, it was hard.

As we got back into my car and debated dinner options, I realized neither Mom nor Carla had asked us about holding hands. The secrets continue.