We started coming to this part for the hidden gems.

“Days I’ll never forget,” he says, pulling along the street before parallel parking the Wrangler.

I go to grab the door handle, but he places his hand on my leg to stop me, and an electric current ignites up my leg.

“Wait.” He ushers out of the Jeep and rounds the front of the car.

“You didn’t have to,” I say after he’s opened my door.

When I climb out, his hand touches the small of my back, and the contentment of us can’t be denied. Our best friend connection has turned to a lovers one. It would crush me if we became one of those couples who turned to burned-out ashes after we ignited the flame and blaze.

“Come on.” He ignores my comment, enveloping my hand in his, and he leads me down the street.

Even though I’m positive on where he’s taking me, I remain quiet, not wanting to ruin the surprise he might have in store for me.

Five minutes later, my assumption stands corrected. We are standing outside of Heaven’s Corner Diner, the first gem he ever took me to. The difference is, the white sign above the restaurant is gone, leaving nothing but old brick. I glance into the restaurant and find waitresses shuffling from table to table. I guess Gus, the owner, must have finally decided to retire after forty years. On one of our visits here, Todd and I learned that Heaven’s Corner had been passed down for decades throughout his family. Gus’s face showed his disappointment that he didn’t have a son who would take over the reins one day.

“You want your usual?” Todd leans in, diverting me from my thoughts.

I smile at how happy Todd appears right now. “Spinach omelet? Too bad you’re not the one making it.”

My hand rests on the cold metal handle, and his lies on top of mine. He takes over opening the door, and the smell of grease transports me right back to late nights when Todd would drag Tati and me here.

The waitress comes over, disregarding me as she talks directly to Todd. I’m used to this behavior. It’s a typical occurrence when I’m in his company.

Leading me over, he pats a stool at the bar and walks back over to the waitress. She glances my way and nods. She disappears through the swinging doors, and Gus emerges.

“Hey, you two.” He wipes his hands on his stained apron.

“Gus,” I say.

He saunters past the counter. “How are you, Lia?”

“I’m good.”

The smell of bacon lingers on his stained apron.

“Go ahead,” he says to Todd.

Todd quickly slides behind the counter. Right before he pushes the doors open, he glances my way and winks.

“You’re letting Todd back there?” I ask.

Todd has asked to cook many times, and Gus has constantly denied him, saying Todd wouldn’t be allowed back there unless he was retiring.

“You’re retiring.” My lips slump down.

He shakes his head. “It’s a good thing. Me and the Mrs. are going down to Florida until we die.”

I slap his arm. “Don’t say that.”

He laughs. “I’m kidding—about the dying thing.”

“So, are you closing the doors?”

“Heaven’s Corner will be closed, but someone bought it. They are turning it into some hoity-toity bistro.” He pretends to be drinking tea with his pinkie up in the air.

“I’ll miss it, but I’m happy for you.”

The waitresses circle around us, and I realize I’m standing in the way now.

“I’d love for you and Tatiana to come to the closing party. It’ll be here on November fifth.”

“We’d love to, and I know Tati won’t miss it.”

“Great. I have to go. Sit. I hear Todd’s making you one heck of a spinach omelet back there.” He winks and disappears through the swinging doors.

I sit on the stool and catch glimpses of Todd through the small opening to the kitchen.

After a few minutes, I decide to check Facebook and kill some time. A few friends have messaged me, saying good luck on my show, and someone attached the ABC morning show link, showing an ad that their segment will air this Friday. Not wanting to see myself on camera, I ignore it.

I spot Todd’s small profile pic of his selfie at the gym. Clicking on his page, I notice he’s taken off his employment info at CHOPs. His page isn’t filled with how much he bench-pressed or pictures of him half-naked in front of a mirror anymore. Instead, they’re my art photos. Under each one, he tells people to come to the show tomorrow night.

My heart flicks to life when I find he posted heartfelt reasons he loves each picture.

I scroll down and then my thumb stops when the waitress pours me a cup of coffee. I peer up at her and thank her before she coyly smiles and rushes over to another patron. I continue admiring Todd’s handiwork on getting people to agree to come to the gallery.

The last post I find is my centerpiece photo of him. I enlarge it because I don’t think I could ever get enough of it. I search for his comments on the side. Not seeing his first one, I read the women’s.

They range from ‘Aww’ to ‘No’ to ‘Me?’

Not really understanding what these women are referring to, I read his caption to the photo.

The words scroll past my eyes for my brain to process, and my whole body numbs. I doubt I could move a finger if I tried. There, on his Facebook page, Todd has declared his feelings.

When I found the woman I’m meant to love.

Swallowing to hydrate my dry throat, I faintly hear the metal doors rub together, and a shadow outlines the counter in front of me.

“Noodle,” Todd says softly, placing the dishes in front of me.

Slowly, I raise my head and find his blue eyes. It’s one of those ding, ding, ding moments in my life, the one where everything feels right, as though all the balls are in my hands after finishing a juggling tournament. The problem is, usually, someone smashes into me, they fly back out of my hands within five minutes, and then I’m left scrambling once again to keep everything from falling.

My eyes dart to the plate in front of me, and I quickly tuck my phone away into my back pocket. “It . . . it looks delicious,” I stutter out, trying to calm my body heat down.

If he hasn’t noticed my pink cheeks, he would have to be blind because the intense heat currently traveling down toward my neck tells me that I most likely match the tomato in my omelet.

“You okay?”

I nod, grabbing my ice water to not only cool me down, but to also keep my mouth occupied before I climb over this countertop and grant my lips their wish to devour his.

“They let me make the omelet for you.”

He points down, and I nod again, confirming I see it. The straw rests in my mouth while the condensation of the cup wets my palm. He takes the cup from my hand and places it on the counter. My teeth instantly bite down on my bottom lip.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

I shake my head this time, trying to compose myself.

Sliding through the opening, he takes the stool next to me and swivels himself around to face me before turning my own round seat his way. His legs rest on either side of my own, and his hands find my hips, slightly pulling me toward him. His touch is like an electric shock, no matter where or even if clothing is a barrier. A sharp twinge excites me.

“I have something to tell you,” he says.

My stomach twists.

“I bought the diner,” he reveals.

My eyes bulge. “You did?”

The smile that’s glowing in his eyes and flooding his whole face quickly becomes contagious.

“That’s wonderful.” I’m happy that Todd bought it, but at the same time, I fear he should be somewhere more . . . elite.

“I know it’s not CHOPs, or any other restaurant that lines downtown. There won’t be reservations booked for two months in advance, and celebrities won’t be rumored to eat here—yet. But it will be mine. I’ll run it how I want.”

He swivels me around, and I giggle.

“I think it’s great, Todd.”