Page 25 of Finding You
He laughed. “That sounds sexual.”
I pinned him with a sharp look. “Focus. I’ll draw something up for you to review. Do you know of anyone in town who is a notary?”
“We are not having our fake relationship contract notarized, killer.”
12
ASTRID
“Trust me.This is the fastest and most painless way to announce our relationship to the world,” Declan declared as we walked down the street.
“Can’t we just post on social media?”
“I don’t have social media. I hate that shit.”
I did not understand that at all. Stalking people on social media was one of my favorite pastimes. I never posted anything about myself, but I loved to troll Instagram and Facebook to get a glimpse of the lives of some of my old friends. And okay, a lot of my former enemies as well. There is a lot of ugliness at an all-girls boarding school. Sometimes, hate scrolling through someone’s boring-ass life was very satisfying.
Declan pulled me into a shiny and retro-looking restaurant. The sign above the door read “Jackie’s Diner & Newsstand” in one of those neon 1960s-style signs. It was charming and a bit kitschy.
Inside was a gleaming chrome countertop and also bright red vinyl booths. A gorgeous juke box in the corner was playing some Sinatra, and it felt as though I had stepped into a time machine. We grabbed a booth, and Declan handed me a menu. I wasn’t crazy about the early morning field trip but I was really hungry.
“This place is great,” I told Declan.
“It’s been here for generations. It used to be a newsstand with a lunch counter back in the day, but they converted the whole space into a restaurant. My parents ate here as kids. Things have changed a bit, but Jackie and Joe have done a really good job of maintaining the spirit of the place.”
Within seconds of my ass hitting the seat, a smiling older lady rushed right over to our table with a coffeepot in one hand. She wore a baby-blue frilly apron and had a massive helmet of silver hair and frosted pink lipstick. She had a pair of rhinestone glasses hanging from a jeweled chain around her neck. Her whole look screamed “loving grandma” while her face yelled “don’t cross me.” I liked her immediately.
“Declan Quinn. It’s been ages.”
“Hi, Jackie. It’s great to see you.”
“And who is this lovely girl?” She put the coffeepot down and placed her glasses on her nose.
“Jackie, this is my girlfriend, Astrid.”
She grabbed the tabletop to settle herself. “As I live and breathe, Declan Quinn. I never expected those words to come out of your mouth.”
She leaned back toward the kitchen. “Joe. Joe. Get your ass out here. You need to meet Declan’s girlfriend. She is real!”
Joe came ambling out of the kitchen to say hello. He was a kind-looking man, probably in his seventies, who wore a Mr. Rogers-style cardigan over his apron.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, miss. Now blink twice if this brute over here is holding you hostage.”
Jackie hit Joe square in the chest with a menu. “Joe, don’t make jokes. She is his girlfriend.” She overenunciated the word, and I questioned if Joe was hard of hearing or if she was just used to him trying to ignore her.
He smiled again. “I am glad you are both here. You look hungry. Jackie, let’s give the lovebirds a minute so they can order.” He dragged his wife away while she continued to stare at me.
Declan leaned in closer and clasped my hand. “Sorry about that. Jackie and Joe are the backbone of the Havenport gossip scene. They are plugged in with everyone, especially the senior citizens. They are going to spread the news far and wide.”
I felt mildly uncomfortable. I was not used to this kind of attention from anyone, not even my parents. People seemed to really care about Declan, and by some extension, me. It was unsettling.
“The food here is fantastic, by the way. What do you feel like?”
I opened the laminated menu and was overwhelmed by pages and pages of choices. Who knew there were so many options for breakfast? I know I shouldn’t admit this out loud, but I really loved it when restaurants put photos of the food in their menus. It just helped me visualize the deliciousness. And right now I was staring at a massive pile of pancakes.
I flipped through trying to decide what to choose. Western omelette? Avocado toast? Steel-cut oatmeal with berries and cream? It was too much.
Most of the time I didn’t eat breakfast. There just wasn’t time, and it was easier to grab a protein bar at my desk. I couldn’t remember the last time I had pancakes. They were calling to me.
