Wesley’s soft laughter draws my attention across the table. He plucks the bottle of vinegar from my limp fingers and sprinkles some over his fries before reaching for the ketchup.

  “What do you think that was about?” I ask, plucking the piece of lettuce from my bun and sliding it onto Wesley’s burger. He lifts both pieces of lettuce and points at the glistening, ruby red slice of tomato underneath. I stab it with my fork and stack it on top of my tomato. This is how it’s always been—I like lettuce, but not on burgers or sandwiches, and Wesley doesn’t like tomatoes on burgers because he says they make the bun soggy. The whole exchange is over in a matter of seconds, with neither of us saying a word.

  I look up as I lift the burger to my mouth. Wesley is watching me with an unreadable smile. “What?”

  He shakes his head and lifts his own burger, taking a big bite. He chews for what seems like forever and then finally swallows. “I just love how we fall back into our old rhythms, no matter how much time we’ve spent apart.” He sets down his burger and wipes his fingers on a napkin. “As for Bea, I think she’s happiest when all her ducklings return to the nest.”

  “Can’t disagree with that. When Stella moved back, Bea had Horatio make her a special cake. She even offered to let Stella have the apartment over the diner and a job here if she wanted it until she found something else.”

  “Stella told me. She joked about taking the apartment if she overstayed her welcome at your place.”

  “That would never happen. Having her back in Bellevue feels like a dream come true, and I love living with her. I already know I’ll be sad when she finds a place of her own and moves out.”

  “Maybe you can switch one McGrath sibling for the other and I’ll take over her room when she moves out.”

  “You, living back in Bellevue? Don’t tease me, Wesley.” I laugh as I say it, assuming he’s joking. He doesn’t laugh with me, though, and that tiny, indecipherable smile is twitching away at the corners of his mouth again.

  In a completely uncharacteristic move, I decide to let it drop. Wesley has been evading certain topics and making cryptic comments all evening. Something is clearly up, but if I know Wesley as well as I think as I do—as well as I have since birth—he’ll tell me when he’s ready. And if he doesn’t, we both know I’m not above hounding him until he gives in. Or calling in his little sister as reinforcement.

  Instead, I focus on my burger. I wasn’t kidding when I said I hadn’t had one since the last time Wesley and I ate here together. If Wesley’s blissed-out expression is any indication, he’s having a moment too.

  It doesn’t take long for us to slip back into casual conversation. Bea comes to check on us several times, with that same wistful expression gracing her features. When we finish eating, Wesley excuses himself to use the bathroom and I sit back in the booth, glancing around and blinking as if I’m coming out of a deep, dream-filled sleep. There are only a few people left in the diner; an elderly couple across the room is sharing a giant slice of cheesecake, and a teen a few tables over is chewing on the straw of her milkshake while staring at the phone in her hand.

  I’m about to pull out my own phone to see if I’ve missed anything when a flash of green catches my eye. My gaze locks with a guy I went on a date with a month or so ago, and I cringe inwardly when he pivots to approach the table.

  “Hey, Evelyn,” he says, wrapping an impossibly long, bright green scarf around his neck multiple times.

  “Hey, Bart.” I hope my voice sounds less surprised—and confused—than I feel, considering the one date we had wasn’t what any human being would ever consider a success.

  “You didn’t see me come in earlier, but I got up to leave right after your date went to the bathroom, so I thought I’d say hi.” The words come out in a rush and he punctuates them with a little wave followed by a wince. “Wow, that was awkward. And this is awkward. I’m sorry.”

  I can’t help but chuckle at his honesty. Even though our date wasn’t great, I remember finding his self-deprecating nature charming. “It’s fine. I’m glad you came to say hi.”

  His face relaxes into a more natural smile. “Good. I went on one more date after ours and then deleted the app. I was fooling myself to think I was ready to start dating again so soon after my last relationship ended. I’m glad you kept at it, though. You and your date look really comfortable and happy together.”

  “Oh…” I consider correcting him, but it doesn’t make any difference if he thinks Wesley and I are together. “Thanks, Bart.”

  He glances up as Wesley slowly approaches the table. “Anyway, take care, Evelyn. Maybe I’ll see you around.” He nods at me, then does the same in Wesley’s direction as he passes him on his way to the door.

  “Who was that?” Wesley asks as he slides back into his seat.

  I let out a small, involuntary groan. “Okay, don’t make fun of me, but Hollie and I joined a dating site a couple months ago.”

  Wesley is quiet for a minute, as if he’s processing this tidbit of information. Finally, he asks, “Why would I make fun of you for that? Plenty of people use dating apps these days.”

  “I know, I know. I just…didn’t want to be one of them? You hear as many horror stories as you do success stories, and I always thought…hoped…”

  “Thought-slash-hoped what?”

  I sigh, deciding to say it quickly and get it over with. “I always thought I’d be married by now, or at least on my way. Hollie and Louisa feel that way too, probably because of societal expectations, blah blah.” I wave a hand around and Wesley presses his lips together to hold back a smile, although he nods to show he understands. “I thought at the very least, I’d like to meet someone the old-fashioned way, but it just wasn’t happening. Or, to be fair, I was meeting guys, mostly through my mother’s matchmaking attempts, but none of them were the right fit for me.”

  Wesley picks up his glass and swirls it around, making the remnants of ice clink against the sides. “And why do you think that is?”

  Because the right guy is already taken and lives three hours away. Oh, and he sees me as a little sister rather than someone he could fall in love with.

  I pick up my own glass and down the last few mouthfuls of pop. “I feel weird saying this, like I’m conceited or something, but it seems as if guys are often intimidated once they find out how successful I am. Things will be going great, they seem interested and engaged, and then as soon as they learn what I do for a living—bam—they get this look. Like they can’t fathom being with someone who might be more successful than they are or who’s confident and owns who she is.”

  I recognize Wesley’s scrunched-nose expression: he’s affronted on my behalf. “Well.” He clears his throat and leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “This is going to sound trite, but it’s their loss. You’re strong and smart and self-assured. I’ve always loved that about you, you know. How you know your own mind and what you want, and you never back down.”

  Wesley’s sincerity and the conviction in his voice make a lump of emotion form in my throat. He’s mostly right about me never backing down, although I can think of one glaring example where he’s wrong. I backed down all those years ago when it came to my feelings for him. More accurately, I chickened out, telling myself it was easier to keep my feelings to myself and not upset the balance of our friendship.

  I swallow hard and hope my tone sounds light when I say, “Wanna hang around Bellevue for a while and be my personal cheerleader?”

  “I’ll always be your cheerleader, Ev. Always.” A moment of silence passes and then he drops his arms and leans against the table. “So, what was the deal with Mr. Green Scarf?”

  “Oh, Bart? He was…nice.”

  Wesley’s eyebrows shoot up. “Nice? Wow, kiss of death.”

  I snort. “We met for coffee and he was polite and friendly, even kind of funny, but he spent most of the date talking about himself. He also kept mentioning his ex-girlfriend, so I don’t think he was ready to date anyway, which he actually admitted to me just now. At the end of the night, we shook hands and that was it.”

  Wesley nods slowly. “Any other dates lined up?”

  I lean forward, prompting Wesley to do the same. “Don’t tell Hollie, but I put my account on hold a few weeks ago.”

  Something akin to relief flashes over Wesley’s face, but it’s there and gone so quickly I’m sure I imagined it. “What about Hollie, has she had any dating success stories?”

  “She hasn’t been on any dates at all yet,” I tell him. “She’s been chatting with a couple of guys, and there’s one she really likes, but their schedules haven’t lined up or something. I think she’s just being cautious, not that I blame her.”

  “That’s smart. And you? Are you going to go back to searching the old-fashioned way?”

  I wrinkle my nose. “I think I’ll stop searching, period, at least for a while.” I push my glass away and pick up a napkin to wipe the condensation from my hands. With Wesley’s gaze steady on mine, something possesses me to add, “Or who knows, maybe whatever guy my mom tries to set me up with at my birthday party this year will finally be a winner.”

  Wesley stares at me for a few beats before his lips move in what I think is supposed to be a smile. “Mama Hathaway is still doing that, huh?”

  “Does the sun still rise in the east?” I ask, drawing a more genuine smile from him. Not wanting to talk about my pathetic excuse for a love life, I say, “I guess we’d better flag down Bea and get the check.”

  “Oh, I already paid,” Wesley says casually, avoiding my gaze as he puts on his jacket.

  “Wesley!”

  He slides out of the booth and offers me a hand. “I wanted to avoid the awkward back and forth of who got to pay, so I made an executive decision.”

  A laugh tumbles out of me as his warm fingers close around mine and I climb from the booth. “That’s really sweet, thank you.”

  “My pleasure. I should be thanking you. This is the most enjoyable evening I’ve had in quite awhile.”

  Before I can question that, Bea rushes over to say good night to us. She envelopes Wesley in a tight hug, making him promise to come back soon. She hugs me next and then ushers us toward the exit.

  There’s a chill in the air when Wesley and I step outside. Without a word, we both turn to the left and saunter down the sidewalk, silently admiring the autumn decorations lining the street and adorning the fronts of shops. I’ve just pulled my jean jacket around me tighter when Wesley slings his arm across my back, drawing me closer to him. I’m sure he’s completely clueless to the fact his grin and the way he rubs my arm for warmth are sending my brain into a tailspin.

  “Where are you parked?” he asks.

  “Down by the copy place. You?”

  He hooks a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the opposite direction. “Near the market.”

  I come to an abrupt stop, causing him to do the same since his arm is still around me. “Have you been away from Bellevue so long you’ve forgotten your directions? You’re going to have to backtrack to get to your car if you go this way.”

  He shrugs, tightening his arm around me and gently urging me to start walking again. “You’re worth backtracking for.”

  I consider telling him he doesn’t have to walk me to my car, but I keep my mouth closed and lean into him instead. If Wesley is only here for a few days, I want to spend every possible second with him. Even if it means having to stitch my heart back together when he leaves again. I’ve done it before; in fact, I don’t think the tiny tear his absence created has ever truly healed.

  At my car, Wesley releases me and reaches inside his jacket, producing a CD in a shiny red jewel case. He opens his mouth to speak, but I sputter out a laugh before he can get any words out. “Wow. Haven’t seen one of those in a few years.”

  “Tell me you still have a CD player,” he says, tapping the case against his palm.

  “Of course I do! There’s no way I’d ever part with my CD collection, especially since half of them were given to me by you. And at least half of those are CDs just like that one…which I assume is for me?”

  Without a word, he holds it out and I pluck it from his fingers. ‘For Buttercup on her thirty-fifth birthday, with love from Wesley’ is written in neat block letters on the front of the case.

  “You can expect a few more of those leading up to your birthday,” Wesley says, tucking his hands into his jacket pockets and rocking back and forth on his heels. “I contemplated doing a hit song from every year of your life, but decided to make a mix of old favorites and some songs that make me think of you.”

  Despite the levity of his words, there’s something in the earnestness of his expression that makes my throat tighten. I try to cover it by saying, “If memory serves, thirty-five songs wouldn’t fit on one CD anyway.”

  He smirks. “I wasn’t going to mention that, but since you brought it up…”

  I go to shove him, but he catches my hand and uses the momentum of my body to pull me against him. There was a time when I would have playfully fought back and tried to get away. Not tonight, though. Tonight, I sink against his body, wrapping my arms around him as his arms encircle me and hold on tight. I can feel the strong, steady beat of his heart, and it makes me wonder if he can feel the way mine flutters like hummingbird wings.

  Wesley doesn’t seem in any hurry to pull away, so I hang on, fisting my hands in the back of his jacket. The only other time we hugged for this long was the day he left for university; I tried so hard to keep it together that day, but ended up bursting into tears as Wesley went to get into his car. He held me close as I clung to him and sobbed all over the brand-new University of Ottawa shirt Stella and I bought him when he got his acceptance letter.

  When we eventually release each other, I’m certain I’m not the only one doing so reluctantly. The air between us feels charged, and the street seems to have fallen silent even though I remember hearing people talking and cars passing only a moment ago. A breeze sends a few strands of hair whipping into my face, and Wesley tucks them behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my cheek.

  I’m just about to turn my face into his palm when he drops his hand and stuffs it into his pocket once more. “I’d better let you get home,” he says, taking a step back. “I have some things I need to deal with while I’m in town, but hopefully I can see you again before your party. If not, I’ll see you on Saturday?”

  “Mmhmm.” I’m dazed from our prolonged hug and the way Wesley touched my cheek. I feel like a teenager again, desperate for every little scrap of affection—affection that Wesley always gave freely and easily because we were so close—and then analyzing it to death and hoping it meant something more than it did. “Since Monday is a holiday, I took the rest of the week off as my birthday gift to myself. Call me anytime if you’re free to hang out.”

  “I will.” He brushes a kiss on my cheek before leaning past me to open the driver’s side door. “Drive safe, Ev.”

  Once I’m in my car, I watch Wesley in the rearview mirror until he disappears around the corner. Before starting the engine, I fish around in my purse for my phone to check for missed calls or texts. It’s not there, nor is it in my jacket pockets. I have a sudden vision of it sitting facedown on the table inside the diner. With a grumble, I start the car and drive in the direction of B&H, pulling into the lot and snagging a spot near the front door.

  I’ve just stepped inside when Bea bustles over, pulling my phone from her apron pocket. “Forget something?”

  “You’re a lifesaver, Bea. Thank you.” I take the phone and tuck it in my pocket.

  “No problem, honey. Gotta tell you, it did my heart a lot of good to see you and Wesley together tonight, just like old times.” Her pleased smile takes on a hint of mischief. From the way her eyes gleam, I know what she’s going to say before the words even form on her lips. “Any chance of you two—”

  “No” I say firmly, cutting her off. “Like Wesley said, we’re just really good friends. Always have been, always will be.”

  “Really good friends,” Bea says slowly, nodding her head with exaggerated understanding. “Okay, honey. It’s just…I never looked at my friends the way you two look at each other.”

  Before I can say anything, Horatio calls to Bea from the back. He waves when he sees me, blowing me a kiss I pretend to catch and hold to my chest. I call good night to him and promise Bea I’ll see her soon as she hurries away toward the kitchen.

  Back outside, I pause and close my eyes, breathing in the crisp air and reveling in the way it caresses my warm cheeks. My eyes pop open as something Bea said hits me. I have no trouble believing I might not be able to hide my feelings for Wesley, especially from someone like Bea, who’s known me most of my life. But she said ‘the way you two look at each other’.

  Which begs the question: how does Wesley look at me?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “You were out late last night.”

  At the sound of my voice, Stella blinks at me from across the room where she’s just emerged from her bedroom. She looks adorable and sleep-rumpled, her dark-blond hair with its fading blue streaks a mass of tangled knots, and her Mandalorian pajama pants twisted around her legs.

  She holds up a finger for me to wait as she trudges to the kitchen and pours herself a glass of water and a cup of coffee. She brings both to the living room and sets them on the coffee table before flopping onto the couch across from me.

  She glances at me sleepily as she reaches for the glass of water. Her hand freezes halfway as she takes in the ear buds connected to my ancient Discman. A low laugh starts in her chest and spills from her mouth, making my lips twitch.

  “Where did that come from? And what are you listening to?”

  “I found this in a box in my closet,” I tell her, lifting the shiny silver portable CD player. I don’t add that the box is full of every CD and cassette tape Wesley ever gave to or made for me. “I had an old Walkman in there too. And my very first flip phone.”