Chapter 10 - SUNLIGHT THROUGH THE BLINDS
Six months later.
The bell over the door chimed, a bright, cheerful sound that still made me smile. I wiped down the gleaming mahogany counter, enjoying the smell of fresh espresso and roasting bacon.
The new diner was beautiful. Located in a safer, sunnier part of the city, it had big bay windows, plush red booths, and a kitchen that made Marcus weep tears of joy on the first day. Everything was paid for, in full, by a mysterious holding company. I didn't ask questions.
"Delia, table four needs a refill!" Marcus yelled from the pass-through.
"On it!" I grabbed the coffee pot, but stopped dead in my tracks as the front door opened again.
A man in a sharp, perfectly tailored charcoal suit walked in. He looked healthier, the dark circles gone from under his eyes. Beside him was a ten-year-old boy, wearing a neat jacket, looking around the diner with bright, curious eyes.
"Theo," I breathed, setting the coffee pot down.
The boy grinned, letting go of his father's hand and running up to the counter. "Hey, Delia! This place is huge!"
"It's not bad, right?" I laughed, coming around the counter to hug him. He hugged back, no hesitation. The defensive wall he'd carried that first rainy night was completely gone.
Julian approached, slipping his hands into his pockets. He smiled, a warm, genuine expression that transformed his face entirely.
"It suits you," he said, looking around the diner.
"It's a step up from the basement tunnels," I agreed, leaning against the counter. "How have you been, Julian? Really?"
"Good," he said, and for the first time, I believed him. "Things are... changing. I am restructuring the business. Moving into legitimate logistics. It's time to build something that Theo can be proud to inherit, without looking over his shoulder."
"I'm glad." I looked down at Theo. "Are you hungry, kid?"
Theo's eyes lit up. "Do you still make that illegally good grilled cheese?"
"For you? Always." I turned to the pass-through. "Marcus! One special grilled cheese for the VIP!"
I poured a cup of black coffee—no sugar—and slid it across the counter to Julian. He took a sip, closing his eyes in appreciation.
The storm had passed. The city outside was bathed in bright, clear sunlight, streaming through the diner windows and reflecting off the newly polished floors. Julian sat in the booth next to his son, watching him eat with a softness I never would have expected from the man I met in the dark.
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Life had a funny way of rerouting you. One night, I was serving bad coffee in a dying diner, and the next, I was part of a family I never asked for, but would never trade.
I smiled, picked up my rag, and went back to work.
