Murphy would tell me when she was ready. She might have thought it would be easier for me to force it out of her, but that wasn’t my style. Not to mention, I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to be involved in all this.
I still couldn’t wrap my head around the contradictions that made up Murphy Landon. We’d done the push-pull thing for four years, and I thought I’d gotten over it. Yet here I was, pulling into the diner parking lot, about to share one of my favorite places with her.
“Cute,” she said as I opened the door, not exactly the reaction I expected from the prep school princess. Then again, I didn’t think she’d ever eat here.
“This place helped me survive the early days of working.” I pointed toward a booth in the back and she made a beeline for it, sliding into the bench seat facing the door.
Taking a menu from in between the salt-and-pepper shakers, Murphy scanned the page. “What’s good here?”
I realized this might have been a bad idea. “Well, I typically get the Biggie Breakfast, no matter the time of day.”
She nodded, setting her menu down. “Your love of breakfast food is now coming back to me. You never missed it at school.”
“Most important meal of the day. Plus, breakfast for dinner is a real delicacy. We used to have it all the time growing up.”
“I’ve never had it.” Her words came out hushed, but I was pretty sure I heard her right.
“What? Breakfast? Or breakfast for dinner?”
“For dinner.”
“Of course not,” I said glibly. “Not all of us can eat Beef Wellington every night of the week, though.”
Her head dropped at my dig. “Please, I know that’s how the old us worked. I’d say something embarrassing, and you’d call me out on it. Back then, I’d laugh, but I’m not laughing anymore. Now I realize how horrible I was.”
“That’s not what I meant, Murph. Shit, look at me. It was more of a dig at myself, you hear me? I was making fun of where I came from, and how I grew up. If anything, I was slipping into old habits, feeling sorry for myself and making jokes to cover it up. It’s an old defense mechanism, but not directed at you.”
“Let’s just not go there. Okay?” she asked, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “Please don’t go there. The differences, all the poor-boy stuff you used to complain about. Guess what? Now I’m the poor little rich girl. Do you see me throwing that around?”
“No,” I said softly, shame washing over me.
Mildred, my favorite server, came over. “Hey there, Ben. Who is this you have with you?”
She eyed Murphy, and I saw her through Mildred’s eyes. Wavy red hair, beautiful face and skin—almost angelic, and definitely too good for me. Murphy might have been dressed in jean shorts and a tank, but I was certain they were some designer brand.
“I’m Murphy, an old friend of Ben’s.” She looked at Mildred and smiled. “I recently moved to Vermont.”
“Is that so?”
Murphy nodded. “I work at the Busy Bean over in Colebury. Do you know it?”
“I do. Designer coffee, adorable furnishings, attracts all the young folk. We only do the old-fashioned drip here. No frilly stuff. Our pies and cakes are sweet enough, though.” Mildred gave it to Murphy, but I knew she was joking.
“That’s good, since drip is the best kind. Don’t tell anyone I said it, though,” Murphy said, dishing it back.
“Never.” Mildred mimed zipping her mouth closed. “You two need a minute?”
I looked at Murphy and then remembered to ask Mildred, “Any specials?”
“Chef’s salad with bacon instead of ham, and peanut butter and chocolate chip pancakes. Not together, of course.”
“Oh, those sound good. I’ll have the pancakes and a coffee. Milk instead of cream?”
Mildred shook her head. “Only have two percent.”
“This is New England,” Murphy said with a grin. “I figured as much.”
I was used to Murphy being sassy in private, but out in public was a whole new experience. I liked it.
Mildred looked at me. “The biggie?”
I gave her a quick nod, and she was off.
“Looks like you’re going to have breakfast for dinner, finally.” I studied Murphy, trying to figure out where she was on the continuum of being okay with all this to being freaking out.
“It certainly does. My damn sweet tooth gets me into trouble all the time. I’ll need to run an extra mile tomorrow.”
“You look great, Murph. I know you’re not fishing for compliments, but let it stand for the record. You look great.”
“Thanks,” she said, pushing her hair behind her shoulder. “Old habits die hard. Every time I eat something with actual flavor, my mom is sitting on my shoulder. I really need to shake her off. My shoulder, that is.”
“You do.”
“Hey, Mister I Wanted To Be Near My Family.”
“I know. Guilty. But I make my own rules, do my own thing, and I don’t beat myself up for it.”
“I’m doing the same. Making my own rules.”
Conversation shifted into something a little less serious while we waited for our food. I admitted I was happy for football to be over. “It was a means to an end,” I said aloud for the first time.
“You still look like you play,” Murphy said in what I assumed was a weak moment, a blush tinting her cheeks.
“I go to the gym.”
With that, our food arrived, and Murphy dug into her pancakes. Although she only ended up eating half of them, when she was done, she said seriously, “Pancakes for dinner may be the best dinner ever.”
She seemed so sophisticated in high school, and now she was like a little girl experiencing life for the first time.
“Thanks,” she whispered as we walked toward my car after I paid. “That was fun.”
“Come here.” Snagging her hip, I dragged her close.
“I don’t know what happened to the old Murphy,” I said, running my hand down her cheek. “But I liked that Murphy a lot. I was almost
