(Mira)
The next day started like any other. I woke up, got dressed, and went downstairs to start my shift.
Hank was behind the bar when I walked in.
"Morning," he said.
"Morning."
I grabbed my apron and got to work. The lunch shift was busy enough to keep my mind occupied. Orders came in. I served drinks. Cleared tables. Made small talk with the regulars.
But my mind kept going back to last night. To dinner at the Daltons. To Claire's stories about Ridge as a kid. To the way his family had made me feel like I belonged.
And to the ride home. The way Ridge had looked at me when he said I fit in with them.
By six o'clock, I was expecting Ridge to walk through the door. He always came in around six. But six came and went. Then seven.
I tried not to notice. Tried not to think about it.
