Page 63 of Harper's Holiday Romance
“Both.”
“That’s cheating.”
“What about you?” I asked.
“One hundred per cent waffles. Especially the ones they make at my local diner back home. They’re called the Ultimate Stacker Waffles. It’s three waffles, with a layer of whatever sauce you choose in between each one, and then three toppings.”
“That sounds incredible.”
“I have them every Saturday morning.” Julia grinned. “Well, I used to.”
“Used to?”
“It was a thing we did as a group; then there was the whole best friend cheating with fiancée thing, and Saturday morning brunch was no more.”
“Huh, tricky.”
“Yes, but I’d rather be here with you.”
“You would?”
“Absolutely.” Julia dug her fork into the fruit salad tower and held it across the table for me to try. “Trust me, I don’t know what they do to this fruit, but it’s so nice.”
“Mmm.” The moaning unashamedly continued for another few seconds.
“I love that about America.” I swallowed.
“What?”
“The whole cute diner where everyone meets up with friends for milkshakes and pancakes and calls the owner by his first name because your mum used to date him, and the server is your ex-girlfriend, and your brother flips burgers in the kitchen.”
“I think you’ve been watching too many movies.” Julia laughed.
“It isn’t really like that?” I frowned.
Julia shook her head.
“Don’t ruin this for me,” I pleaded.
“Okay, it can be a little bit like that; it depends how small your town is. I do know the owner of my diner by his first name because he’s my godfather, so I suppose you’re rightin that sense.”
“I knew it!”
“However, my brother does not flip burgers there, and my ex doesn’t serve there... although.” Julia paused to recollect her thoughts. “Come to think of it, my ex before my last ex did work there in high school if that counts?”
“See! It is just like the movies.”
“Fair enough. You don’t have places like that in England?”
“Nope.”
“Seriously?”
“If you went to an out-of-town diner in England, you’d find fifteen lorries in the parking lot. You’d be asked to pee in a bathroom with no toilet seat, eat greasy burgers off tables filthy with dirt, ketchup, and the whole place would smell of gasoline.”
“You paint such a pretty picture.” Julia cringed.
Never again would I use a pit stop for truckers; I would pee in a bottle first.
