Page 96 of You'll Love it Here

I snort. After a few brands I used to work with shared my original video about Valleyview, influencers started to repost it too. But apparently the real draw wasn’t a local landmark in need of saving, but the photo of young Abu standing with his arms crossed behind the counter of his café. #classicdineryyc had quickly gained traction.

“Now stop holding me in suspense, I’m an old woman and I don’t have much time left,” Irene prods me.

Rolling my eyes, I hand over the envelope. These past two months, I reached out to all my old clients and asked for donations. There were plenty of nos—especially from Bob Wolch types—but I was able to convince a few Canadian-owned businesses that helping a local community was a great look for their brand aesthetic.

I don’t wait for her to open it before blurting, “We have enough!”

Irene forgets the envelope and throws her arms around me, pulling me into her flowery blouse. As she pins me to her chest, I feel wetness against my hair. “You’re the best gamble I’ve made yet,” she murmurs. “Thank you.”

I hug her back. “Thank you for taking a chance on me.”

We’re extracting ourselves from each other’s arms when I hear the door to the diner across the street jingle. I turn my head and see a guy in a backward cap dropping something in the crow trading post he’d set up. And my stomach flips.

He’s in a new blue shirt—matching colors with the sign. He looks well rested. He probably isn’t wiping clean tables these days, now that business is busier. He brushes his hands off on each other then turns around.

That’s when we lock eyes.

The grin falls off his face.

And my chest falls, knowing I’m the one that caused it to. I shouldn’t have come here.

“I should get out of here,” I tell Irene.

Her eyes droop, and she puts a hand on my arm.

Behind me, I hear his voice. “Mona?”

And that’s all it takes. It’s like an instinct. Like a magnet. I turn halfway around. He’s jogging toward us from across the street.

I wave to him. “Hey, Sami. I like the sign.”

“Thanks.”

This whole time I was speaking to Irene, I was sure never to ask about him, never harass her about the residents who might not want me knowing anything about them. Sami hadn’t tried to contact me, and I respected that.

But now, standing in front of him, everything I’ve been holding back rises all at once. I still miss him—so much it aches.

“I’m going to grab a coffee,” Irene says, moving away from us. She gives me, then Sami, a very pointed look. “You two take your time.”

He folds his arms, hands gripping his elbows—a strangely uncertain gesture from the guy who was usually so effortlessly at ease.

“Business looks good,” I say, nodding across the street.

His grin would barely register if you didn’t know him. “Yeah. I got some great business advice a while back from this top marketer who really knew her stuff.” The grin tugs a little wider. “You may appreciate one menu item on the daily special.” He directs his gaze to the sandwich board in the window.

It doesn’t take long scanning the sign before I clock:Sami’s Sammie. He added the kotlet sandwich he made me during that mixer. “That’s amazing!” I smile.

He leans slightly closer and cups his hand over his mouth tomock whisper. I hold still and pretend my heart isn’t rapidly beating at the proximity to him. “It turns out catering to the condo fucks is actually pretty fun. They think basic diner stuff is vintage and that my Persian dishes are fresh. I can do anything, so long as the food is good.”

“That’s way harder than it looks for those of us who aren’t amazing chefs, Sami.” I can’t help my smirk. “But I should let you know, your adviser isn’t a top marketer anymore. In fact, I’m pretty sure she’s not even corporate.”

His eyes run over me. “Yeah, Irene mentioned you’re working for the heritage society now. I wasn’t sure if this was for your job or like a side project.”

So Irene had been updating Sami on me. That kind of explains why he’s giving me the time of day. “It was a side project, but it did help me get my new job. I mean, I’m still doing marketing, but for fundraising for restoration and local initiatives—and I love it.” It’s true, I love strategizing and working with various nonprofits; I love helping older businesses that occupy a part of history and making atruedifference; most of all, I love meeting different people and hearing their stories and memories around a specific street or location. I’d come across this kind of job posting way back when I graduated, but the pay and position weren’t something I’d ever have considered then. But now, it’s perfect. My days involve sitting in on town halls, promoting local businesses, and maintaining the heritage society’s newsletter and social media. I continue, “You might have heard, I’m all about the mom-and-pops these days.”

His smile softens. “I’m happy for you.” Then his eyes cast toward the restaurant window.

“Do you need to get back?” I ask.