Walk on By by Stacey Solomon

Author:Stacey Solomon [Solomon, Stacey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance Romantica Fiction
Publisher: Totally Entwined Group Ltd
Published: 2014-10-14T16:00:00+00:00

He took me to a diner on the outskirts. I’d been in an ‘All-American Diner’ in the UK, but it was a poor imitation. We sat in a booth on red leather seats where we could stare out of the window into a car park that gave the impression we were in the middle of nowhere. Like Texas or someplace like that.

This diner was a long metal caravan with rounded top edges and about eighteen wheels. Outside our window stood a red sign on a white post, concreted into the cracked asphalt. A neon yellow light shaped as funky retro writing announced the place was called Teddy’s. It flashed, leaving a ghostly impression when I closed my eyes.

We waited for a server, who sailed over in her red-and-white gingham outfit, and she took a notebook and pencil from the pocket on the front of her white apron. Her hair was tucked under a red baseball cap, and she smiled a wide smile.

“What would you like?” he asked me.

I stared at him, realising I didn’t even know his name. Why hadn’t I asked him?

Because I was too caught up in the prospect of rude coffee, that’s why.

I could have called him Jude—I think he’d have got the joke—but for some reason I didn’t want a nickname for him. I wanted to call him by his proper name.

“You order,” I said, automatically going into Lola mode.

“No, what would you like?” he repeated. “Choose for yourself.”

I wasn’t sure about that. All these kinds of decisions were usually made for me, so having to think about what I wanted threw me a bit. But I was taking more control now, so yes, I’d order what I wanted—and feel great doing it. “One second.”

While he rattled off what he was having, I stared at the menu. Going by what they served in the UK, if I got a burger and chips, that should be enough to fill the hunger gap. I hadn’t eaten before departure. And it was weird, but although we were in a diner, at first I’d expected to see the ridiculous meals from the restaurants Lola visited back home, where you paid one hundred quid for a lobster claw, a strip of iceberg lettuce and a midget cherry tomato.

I had to get my mind to shift from then to now. Nothing in London had to feature in my time here if I didn’t want it to.

“I’ll have a double bacon cheeseburger with chips,” I said.

“No ‘please’?” he asked.

I blushed. “Please. Sorry.” God, had I become rude as my Lola self? How had I not even spotted that I was getting to be like Deborah? I smiled in extra apology at the waitress.

“No problem,” she said. “So you want chips, or did you mean fries? I’m thinking you’re from England, right?”

“Yes. Oh, fries. Please.”

Off she breezed, and I stared out of the window so I didn’t have to look at him—so that he couldn’t see my shame. I was struggling to keep my

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