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They went to Riley’s for breakfast. Rita spotted them as they entered the place, arched an eyebrow at the sight of Diana pressed close to Nick’s side as they waded into the usual breakfast crowd lining up along the counter and swarming near the cashier, and pointed toward the rear of the eatery. With his hand at the small of her back, Nick guided Diana through the throng until he spotted the empty table Rita had indicated.
“It pays to have a friend on the staff,” Diana said as she slid onto the banquette facing Nick. “Weren’t all those people waiting for tables?”
“Some of them,” Nick conceded. “Rita looks out for me.”
“I think she has a crush on you,” Diana said. Her voice had a teasing lilt to it, but her cheeks darkened to a slightly deeper pink.
“Yeah, right.” He shook his head. “Not a chance. She knows me too well.” Just speaking those words reminded him of what Diana didn’t know. Tell her, the angel on his left shoulder whispered. Leave it alone, the devil on his right argued.
Rita arrived at their table with a decanter of steaming coffee in one hand, two mugs in the other, and two laminated menus wedged between her elbow and her ribs. She set the two mugs down, filled them with coffee without waiting to be asked, and handed Nick and Diana the menus. “The blueberry pancakes look really good today,” she said before sauntering away.
“Blueberry pancakes.” Diana’s eyes widened. “I can’t remember the last time I had pancakes.”
“Then order them.”
“It’ll be too much. I’m not used to eating a big breakfast—especially when I didn’t jog.”
“You can jog later,” Nick suggested. He signaled Rita, who hurried back to their table. “Two orders of the blueberry pancakes,” he said. “You sold us. Orange juice?” he asked Diana.
“Can I get a small one?”
“Two small OJ’s,” Nick requested, taking Diana’s menu from her and handing it and his own to Rita. As soon as Rita waltzed away, the angel on his left shoulder started nagging him again. Tell her.
“The last time I had pancakes was over a year ago, at the bridal shower for one of my friends at the Harvard Club,” she said. Her face was bright, her voice bubbly. “They had a buffet, and I made a pig of myself. But, you know, it was a party…” She went on, describing the buffet, describing the décor, describing the gifts her friend had gotten.
The Harvard Club, the devil on his right shoulder whispered. Diana was way out of Nick’s league. Why bare his soul to her? She’d be returning to her friends and her Harvard Club parties before long.
So it went over breakfast, as they feasted on what, Diana admitted, were tastier pancakes than the one she’d consumed at the Harvard Club. She told Nick about what the rest of her day would be like—getting to the house ahead of the movers, sorting the goods into valuable stuff and probable junk, overseeing the packing of the valuable stuff, making sure everything wound up on the truck, handing over a check. Tomorrow she would head to the warehouse, where she’d meet an appraiser and start working through the inventory, once again sorting items. The pieces with no value would be donated to appropriate charities. The pieces with modest value would be priced and sold as quickly as possible. The truly valuable pieces would be inspected and sent to restorers, if necessary. Once those pieces were in pristine condition, they would be photographed for Shomback-Sawyer’s catalog, posted on the firm’s website, and possibly included in an auction.
The process, as she described it sounded interesting. Too interesting for him to interrupt her and launch into a speech about his criminal past.
“I’m talking too much,” she admitted sheepishly, then used her fork and knife to lift half a pancake from her plate and deposit it on his, as if they’d been sharing breakfasts for years. “What’s on tap for you today?”
“The usual,” he said. “I’ve got to prepare a funding report for the town’s budget committee. I have a meeting with one of the nurses at the high school. They’ve got a couple of pregnant girls enrolled, and we’re monitoring things closely to make sure the girls stay in school. The girls don’t want to meet with me personally, but I’m coordinating things with the state’s Department of Health and Human Services. We want to make sure the girls have every support they need to stay in school.”
Diana sighed. “What you do is so important! I feel so petty. Who needs an antique gramophone? Those girls are fighting for their future.”
Nick snorted and shook his head. “Yeah, I’m such a saint.” Tell her.
“After last night, I know you’re no saint,” she teased, her cheeks flushing with color again. He loved the way she could hit him with a bawdy joke, even if she embarrassed herself way more than him.
They finished their breakfast, Nick polishing off the chunk of pancake Diana had passed along to him, and he handed his travel mug to Rita for a fill-up. Diana took out her credit card, but Nick brushed it away and replaced it with his own. If he wasn’t going to come clean with her, the least he could do was pay the bill.
It wasn’t enough. He should come clean. But being with her, bantering with her, gazing into her sparkling hazel eyes and remembering the lush warmth of her body as he’d made love to her… He wasn’t ready to end things yet. And telling her the truth would end things. He knew it would.
He’d let this adventure play out a little longer. He’d keep his mouth shut, and then she’d go home, and she’d never have to know.