“You leave my team out of this,” she says, sitting down next to me. “So, fellas,” she starts, leaning over me, “looks like we’re working together!”
“I asked Valentina to be my personal assistant,” I explain after Alfie and Ryan exchange glances, and then I look at my sister.
“This sounds like an apple crisp moment,” Janice adds from the other side of the bar. “Your grandma just made them this afternoon!”
My grandparents on my mother’s side bought the diner in the nineties after the bank foreclosed on the previous owners. It was originally just supposed to be a passion project for my grandmother and her sister, but in the first few years, they went from being open just for breakfast to it being the only twenty-four-hour diner in Colwood. My grandfather even quit his job as a mechanic. Instead of turning wrenches, he started flipping eggs and pancakes.
Before long, he became just as much as a familiar face to everyone that came to Betsy’s Diner as my grandma. There’s always someone in here that recognizes him. It’s the place families go on Sunday mornings after church. College students, like the ones sitting in the booths behind us, take advantage of the free Wi-Fi and bottomless coffee. Local sports teams come in for celebration sundaes after winning championships.
The menu is always changing, my grandfather constantly asking me and my siblings for the latest food crazes. While the staple comfort foods will never leave the menu, avocado toast and the option to have almond or soy milk with those bottomless cups of coffee are the newest options. Bacon cheeseburgers, frappes, baked mac and cheese, and my grandma’s apple crisp are always available to order though, no matter the going trend.
After beating ovarian cancer and a mini stroke, Grandma stopped working so many hours at the diner. Instead, sending apple crisp and other assorted desserts in with my grandfather every night when he’d go in.
Luckily, over the years, they’ve found an amazing crew that has stuck with them through all the changes. Janice and her daughter have been serving here ever since the grand opening. Her husband Jack has been a cook from the beginning too. During the day, there are a few cooks and additional waitresses that work as well. Most nights though, it’s just like tonight—with my papa, Jack, and Janice running the show.
Once the bowls full of warm apple crisp and heaping scoops of vanilla ice cream have been placed in front of us, my grandfather says goodbye. Making his way down the line, he makes sure to hug each of us—even Ryan and Alfie, who have (at some point) stopped calling him “Bob” and joined in calling him “Papa.”
After eating as much as I can, I push the bowl away. I check my phone, sighing when I see it’s almost two o’clock in the morning. I have to be up, showered, and out the door by nine o’clock to pick Lina up for her soccer game. Thankfully, she’s playing at the home field tomorrow, and not until ten o’clock.
“I don’t mean to be a party pooper, but I do have to get up in five hours,” I say. Then I turn to my best friend. “Any chance you wanna take me home, neighbor?”
“Yeah, of course,” Archer says, wiping his face before placing his napkin on the countertop.
“What time is Lina’s game?” Luca asks as Ryan asks Janice for the check.
Valentina, my brothers, Archer, and I glance at one another knowingly. We’ve never paid a dime to eat here. Even if we showed up with friends, like we did tonight, my grandparents wouldn’t hear of it.
“Don’t be silly, hon,” Janice says, waving us off as she walks around the bar with a full pot of coffee. “Bob would be furious if I rang y’all up.”
While my sister is assuring Ryan and Alfie that this is typical, I start to say goodbye to my brothers. Not without escaping a noogie from Giovanni though, leading me to punch him in the thigh.
“Can’t take you two anywhere,” Luca jokes from behind Giovanni. After pulling me into a quick hug, he tells me he’ll see me in the morning.
Neither one of my brothers have ever missed one of Lina’s soccer games. Rain, shine, freezing or scorching temperatures, it doesn’t matter. They’re there—cheering louder than anyone else on the sidelines.
“I’ll be passing the Colwood Village Inn,” Giovanni starts, when he makes his way over to where Alfie and Ryan are standing. “I can give you guys a lift back, if you want?”
“Brilliant!” Alfie exclaims, taking his jacket from the empty barstool next to him. “Thanks, mate!”
We all say goodbye to Janice, but instead of making his way to the door like everyone else, Ryan pulls a bill from his wallet and places it between our empty cups. I quickly do a double take to make sure my eyes aren’t deceiving me.
Without needing the recognition or acknowledgment, Ryan West just left a hundred-dollar tip on the counter.
When he realizes I’ve caught him, he puts his finger up to his mouth, asking for my silence. Pressing my index finger and thumb together, I run them over my lips, implying that my lips are sealed.
So far, in the less-than-twenty-four-hour span I’ve known him, he’s called me out when I was late, managed to single-handedly save me from losing my shit in the middle of a Boston night club, won over my siblings and best friend while eating cheeseburgers and milkshakes at my grandfather’s diner, and is about to make Janice’s night with a hundred-dollar tip that he didn’t want credit for.
Who are you, Ryan West?
13
Ryan
Loud banging outside of my suite rips me right away from the warm beaches I was dreaming about. I don’t know what’s more disappointing, leaving the ocean or a sun-kissed Carina.
When I swing the door open, I’m greeted by the chipper smile of my younger brother.
“Mornin’,” he says, handing me a Styrofoam cup before pushing his way into the room. “I knew your lazy arse would still be sleeping. It’s after eleven. You told Carina you would be on set today if she wanted to bring her daughter by. I figured you’d want to shower and make yourself pretty.”
“Good call.” I laugh, no longer irritated by him barging into the room. Once I take a sip from the hot cup, I notice the dark, robust blend is the best cup of coffee I’ve had since I came to the states two years ago. I check the plain, white cup before asking, “Where did you get this?”
“Roasted and Toasted,” he answers. “I texted your lady and asked her where one would get the best cuppa in town.”
“My lady?” I question, knowing bloody well he means Carina. The twinge of jealousy that pings knowing he’s talked to her today is an unwelcome—and very unwanted—feeling.
“Don’t be daft, mate.” He laughs, pulling out one of the chairs tucked into the small table in the kitchen area. “You know I’m talking about Carina.”
“She is not my lady,” I tell him, which only makes him laugh harder.
Wanker.
“Coulda bloody fooled me.” A wicked grin spreads across his face. “How were those cheesy chips last night, bruv?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, bugger off, Alfie,” I say, placing my coffee on the table next to him. “I assume by your unwelcome presence that you’re going to the set too?”