Page 89 of All That Glitters

“Little flower, don’t cry,” Rose says, and comes over to my side of the bed to pull me into a hug. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just so grateful for you,” I say into her shoulder. I feel Jameson place his hand on my back. “Thank you for loving me all these years.”

Rose pulls back and holds my tear-soaked face in her hands. She’s crying now, too, which makes me feel less alone.

“I’ll always love you.” She smiles through her tears. “You’re easy to love, sweetheart. Don’t let anyone make you feel any different.”

I press my lips together to hold in a sob.

“Now.” She wipes my tears away for me, the action so motherly it makes my chest ache. “Stop this crying and eat your food before it gets cold.”

I laugh at the gentle command. Jameson pulls me into his side and kisses the top of my head. We dig into our food, and Stan brings up the last NHL game he watched. I think he felt awkward with all the crying. I’m grateful for the subject change.

A little while after we finish eating, the doctor comes in. I grab Jameson’s hand and grip it tightly, hoping that whatever the doctor is about to say doesn’t bring the tears back.

Chapter forty-two

Cheers

Jameson Sinclair

Marigold frowns at my leg propped up next to her in the booth.

“Goldie, I’m fine,” I insist with a laugh. “Quit worrying.”

In the two weeks since my injury, Marigold has done everything possible to ensure that I’m resting my knee. Thankfully, there was no tear, but there was a significant sprain. The doctor instructed me to follow a rest protocol for a few weeks and complete gentle physical therapy. He seemed to think I would be able to be a part of the later rounds of the playoffs if the Thrashers make it that far and Coach Rhodes decides to let me play.

“I feel like we should have gotten everything to-go so you wouldn’t be in this cramped booth,” she says, her face lined with concern.

“This is too important for a to-go order. Plus, how can we pester Amos if we eat somewhere else?”

That gets her to smile, which in turn makes me smile, too. We drove to Kimmy’s Diner today to celebrate a special occasion: Marigold’s last day at the paper. Charlie was shocked when she came into his office two weeks ago to give him notice of her leaving. I thought Marigold might change her mind when he told her she was one of the best reporters to walk into the newsroom. But she stayed true to what she wanted most, and I’m proud of her for that.

“He might not even be our server,” Marigold says as she cranes her neck to look around the slightly dilapidated diner. Everything is clean, but nothing is new. The cracked booth with a chipped table that we’re occupying is proof of that. As is the jukebox that only plays three Johnny Cash songs on repeat nearby.

“In all our years coming here, he’s always served this section. And I think even if we sat somewhere else, he’d serve us. He likes us.”

Marigold shakes her head and laughs. “He does not.”

Amos walks over at that moment, his wrinkled face set in a firm scowl.

“Doesn’t that look like a man happy to see us?” I ask her with a smirk.

She presses her lips together to stifle a laugh. Amos stops at the end of our booth and pulls out his small yellow notepad and pencil.

“Long time no see, Amos,” I say.

He dips his chin. “I thought you two wouldn’t come back after graduation.”

I give Marigold a look that says see?

“We’ve been busy, but today is a special occasion,” Marigold tells him, making my smile grow. It makes me beyond happy to see her choosing what she wants, not what she feels like she has to do.

“Coke floats, then?” Amos grumbles.

Marigold’s face lights up and she nods.

“Plus two burgers and a pancake with lots of whipped cream!” she adds.