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I wasn’t expecting to spend one of my precious winter break days filling in at the diner, working alongside my mom, but here we are. I won’t complain about a little extra cash, though. When she mentioned that they’d be short-staffed today, there was no hiding how frazzled she was, so I volunteered to fill in. I’ve known Harry, the owner, practically all my life, so over the years, I’ve taken a shift here or there.

Another thing I wasn’t expecting today? To see Bertie walk into the diner.

She sports a light pink beanie with some sort of fluffy thing on top that bobs as she walks. Her cheeks are a deeper shade of pink from the chilly temperature, and her coat—yet another shade of pink—is thick and fluffy.

She stands just inside the door, scanning the dining room for a moment, before she heads toward an empty booth in my mom’s section.

Mom immediately steps that way, ready to greet her, but I stop her with a hand on her wrist. “I’ve got this one.”

“Oh?” She arches a brow and studies me.

“It’s not like that,” I warn her, before she can create an elaborate narrative in her head filled with marriage and babies for me and the pretty blonde.

Bertie has her eyes on the menu, so she doesn’t notice me approach.

“Are you stalking me?”

She jumps, and when she finds me standing with a pad at the ready, her eyes light in surprise. “What? No. I didn’t know you worked here. I…” She surveys me, then glances around the diner. “Wow, it really does seem like I’m stalking you. I can go.”

She starts to slide out of the booth, but I shake my head and keep my position close to the table so she can’t escape.

“I’m just messing with you, B. And no, technically, I don’t work here, but they’re short-staffed and needed the help. What can I get you to drink?”

“Diet Coke, please.”

“You got it.” I tap my pen against the pad. “Do you need another minute with the menu?”

She nods, so I give her a smile and leave her to peruse the options while I get her drink.

She watches me as I walk away. Her attention is palpable, even if I can’t see her. As I’m scooping ice into a red plastic cup, my mom comes up beside me.

“She’s pretty,” she singsongs, bumping her elbow playfully into my arm, making the ice clack against the cup.

“She is,” I agree. “But again, it’s not like that.”

She laughs. “Then why is she looking at you like she wants to take a bite?”

Heat creeps up my neck and cheeks as I fill the cup with Diet Coke.

Mom giggles beside me. “Do you like her, Lukie? Ask her out.”

If only the floor would open up and swallow me whole right about now.

I was a shy kid, and while I’ve certainly grown out of it a bit, I do still have my moments, like this one, where it feels my skin is on fire and the desperation to flee is strong.

“I have asked her out,” I whisper. “She doesn’t want to date right now. She ended a serious relationship not too long ago.”

She frowns. “But you like her.”

“Yes,” I confirm, even though I’m not sure it was a question.

“And she looks like she’s interested in you,” she muses.

“Mom,” I beg. “Please, stay out of it. We’re friends.”

She puts her hands up in surrender. “Okay. I’ll keep quiet.”

Even though I don’t want to . Those words hang between us, but I ignore them and head back over to Bertie’s table.

“Did you decide yet?”

Nodding, she sticks the menu back in the holder at the other end of the table. “I’ll take a cheeseburger—no tomato—and fries, please.”

“You got it.”

I turn to leave so I can enter her order into the system, but her soft “hey, Luke?” has me swinging back around to face her.

“Thank you again,” she says, peering up at me through her lashes. “For hanging out with me the other day.”

“Bertie, you’ve got to stop thanking me for stuff like that. We’re friends. Friends hang out.”

“Right.” She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, lowering her head. “Friends.”

The sadness in her tone puzzles me. She’s the one who doesn’t want to be more than that.

She doesn’t stop me this time as I turn and walk away to put the order in.

“We’re slowing down a bit,” my mom says after Bertie’s order is in the system and I’ve refilled another patron’s water. “Why don’t you take a break and sit with your friend?”

“Mom,” I groan at her meddling.

“What?” She blinks innocently. “She looks lonely.”

I look back in Bertie’s direction. Dammit. I can’t deny that she’s right. She does look lonely, and from what she said the other night, there’s a good chance she is.

“Fine,” I agree. “But I’m telling her you’re meddling.”

She laughs as she saunters to one of her tables. “Tell her whatever you want, sweetie.”

Grumbling, I put in a discounted order for myself. Now that I’m thinking about a break, I’m ravenous. I’ve been here since the breakfast rush. How my mom does this day in and day out baffles me. It’ll be the best day of my life when I can afford to retire her.

While I wait for our orders, I take care of my tables, ensuring everyone has what they need, and when our meals are up, I carry them both over to Bertie’s table.

She frowns in confusion as I slide in across from her.

“Just so you know”—I point at my plate—“this wasn’t my idea. My mom is meddling.”

Brow furrowed, she peers around the diner. “Your mom is here?”

“Yeah, she works here.”

“Ah.” She nods. “Now I see why you’re here working.”

I shrug. “They needed the help.”

She points a fry at me. “But you really did it for your mom, didn’t you?”

As I unroll my silverware from my napkin, I duck my head and mutter a “yes.”

She shakes her head, a smile curling her lips. “You’re making it really hard, you know?” A flush stains her creamy skin as soon as the words are out, but she doesn’t look away.

I press my lips together, my heart rate picking up a little. “What am I making hard?”

The blush deepens. “Not to change my mind about the whole dating thing.” She stuffs a fry into her mouth like it’ll keep any more words at bay.

I chuckle, amused. “I promise you, I’m not expecting you to change your mind.”

“No, I know that,” she says quickly, like she’s worried she’s offended me. “I only meant… you’re a really great guy, and it’s obviously not an act. I can’t see you ever being one of those guys who tries to do that. A true good guy doesn’t feel the need and?—”

“Take a breath.” I angle over the table and make sure she’s looking at me. “Just so you know, it’s okay to have feelings for someone and not act on them. You know how I feel about you, and I won’t pressure you for more. I don’t want you to think that I’m hanging out with you to try to get you to change your mind either.”

“I know, I know,” she chants, hiding her mouth behind her hand while she chews. “I just meant… I like you as more than a friend and it’s just… really confusing for me.”

Fuck, that makes me happy. Even though I won’t push her for more, it feels good to know that I’m not the only one who feels the attraction between us. I tamp down on the joy that overwhelms me, though. The last thing I want to do is get overly excited and scare her off.

“I was with Tommy for a long time,” she goes on. “Our relationship was filled with very high highs and very low lows. I loved him a lot, but after a while, I realized it wasn’t a sustainable kind of love. If we’d ended up engaged, married, it would’ve never lasted. When a connection is right, it shouldn’t be that rocky. Eventually, I’d had enough.”

“What happened?” It’s none of my business, but my curiosity has gotten the best of me. “What was the turning point?”

She frowns, looking apprehensive.

If she doesn’t want to talk about it, I won’t push it. I consider telling her to forget I asked, but before I can, she takes a deep breath and straightens in the booth.

“He asked me to go to a party. I really didn’t want to go, but I agreed. To keep the peace.” She lowers her head, focused on her plate for a moment, then locks her eyes with mine again. “I showed up late and found him flirting with another girl. He did that a lot. When I annoyed him. To punish me or something, I guess. That time, I just… I’d had enough. I marched up to him and told him that I was done. But the next morning…” She shook her head. “He was texting me like nothing had changed. Like he was sure I’d be over it. I guess I can’t blame him for thinking that since I took him back so many times. But I meant it.”

My chest tightens at the hint of pain in her voice. “Good for you. You deserve better, and I’m sure that wasn’t easy.”

“It wasn’t.” She bites her lip, her gaze averted. “It sounds so pathetic, but I think because of my parents, I learned not to expect much from relationships.”

“It’s not pathetic,” I insist. God damn, this girl’s upbringing really was shitty. It’s really true what they say. Money isn’t everything.

It hurts, knowing she’s never been loved properly. Not by her parents and not by doucheface Tommy. Bertie deserved better from all of them.

“I hope…” I inhale deeply and let the breath out slowly, gathering myself. “I hope that when you’re ready to open your heart up again, you find someone capable of loving you the way you deserve.”

She tugs on the ends of her hair, head lowered. “Thank you.”

Straightening, I pick up my burger. Only then do I realize how much time has passed. Shit. I have about five minutes left in my break.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“I have to get back to work in a few minutes.” I take a giant bite of my burger, determined to finish it before I’m out of time. I won’t have another break until the shift I’m covering ends.

“Oh,” she breathes. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have been so chatty.”

Frowning, I lean in closer, burger still in hand. “Don’t ever be sorry for talking to me. I love it.”

We eat in silence for the next couple of minutes. I’m wiping my hands on a napkin, getting ready to get up and get back to work, when my mom appears at the side of the table.

My heart lurches as I look up at her. Oh no .

“Hi.” She smiles at Bertie. “I’m Luke’s mom. Jocelyn.”

“I’m Bertie. It’s nice to meet you.” She extends a hand and smiles.

Mom slides her palm against Bertie’s, head tilted in interest. “That’s an unusual name.”

“It’s short for Beatrice.”

“You didn’t want to go by Bea?”

I shoot my mom a look, silently willing her to stop interrogating Bertie. I’m sure she can feel the death glare, but she ignores me.

Bertie shrugs. “I’ve gone by Bertie since I was a little girl. I’ve never thought about changing it.”

“I like it. It suits you,” my mom says, her smile warm. “I thought I’d pop over and see if you have plans for Christmas Eve. Are you spending it with family or…?”

I’m fairly certain my ears are bright red based on how hot they feel.

Bertie’s shoulders slump. “No, I’m alone for the holiday this year.”

My mom’s reaction is the opposite. Her whole face lights up like this is good news. “You should spend it with us, then. Come over for Christmas Eve dinner. You can even stay the night if you want. No one should be alone on Christmas.”

With my hands covering my face, I hang my head. Is my mother seriously playing wingman right now?

Bertie smiles. “That would be lovely. Luke asked me, but I hadn’t had the chance to tell him yes yet.”

My mom’s smile only grows. “That’s my Luke. Such a good boy.”

“Mom.” I stifle a groan. “You make me sound like a dog, not your son.”

She ignores me, her body turned so it’s facing Bertie only. “I look forward to having you. Is there any particular dish or dessert you enjoy?”

Cheeks pink, Bertie shakes her head. “Whatever you make will be lovely.”

“All right.” My mom nods, the gears turning in her head. “I’ll see you then. It was good to meet you, Bertie.”

“You, too.”

My mom heads back to the counter with an extra pep in her step. Dammit. I’ll never hear the end of this.

“Your mom is nice,” Bertie says, smiling at her back.

She means it, too. There isn’t even a trace of sarcasm in her tone.

“She is. I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s fine.” She waves off my concern. “I really was going to take you up on your offer.”

“You were?” I straighten, surprised.

She nods. “Yeah, I’ve been working up the courage to text you. It feels a little pathetic to beg to spend the holiday with a family that isn’t mine.”

“It’s not pathetic, and besides, I asked you, remember?” I eye the time and groan. “I’ve got to get back to work.”

“Okay. Thanks for sitting with me.”

With a nod, I gather up my plate and drink to take to the back.

As I pass her, my mom bumps her hip into mine. “You’re welcome,” she singsongs, shooting a triumphant smile my way.

If, by some miracle, this turns into something, she’ll never let me live it down.