Rehashing his truth had Ethic zoned out. He had soaked up love from his trio, sending Lily home early, so that he could spend time with them. After they were all asleep, he had the overwhelming urge to see…her. Alani Lenika Hill. The woman whose life he had changed for the worst. He needed to lay eyes on her. When he walked into the diner it was empty, just like the first time he had patronized it. Alani sat at the bar, curly hair twisted out and big around her tired face. Her bags told him she wasn’t sleeping, and he knew he was the cause. He had stripped her of her peace, and it was something he had to add to his list of things to mourn. “Lenika,” he called.

She looked up in surprise, defensive at first, but at first sight of him, her lips spread into a smile. “Alani to you,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m starving,” he said, and it was true. He was famished from lacking the nutrients a woman provided for a man and he hadn’t realized the famine he had been in until he met her. It took all his will to keep his interactions with her in a friendly place.

“Well, let’s feed you. Cheap, greasy, diner food,” she quipped. She extended both her hands and motioned for the barstool. “Let me serve you, dear Sir.”

Ethic wanted nothing more than for her to serve him. He needed a woman that would do so, lovingly, without feeling like he was oppressive to her independence, because in return he would be subservient too, when necessary. Her words stirred something inside him, but he knew there was no hidden meaning to them. She was just talking about food, so he slid onto the bar stool, accepting the menu she held out for him.

“I don’t recommend the meatloaf. It’s from yesterday,” she whispered.

“I’ll just take the pie. Peach,” he said. She bit her lip, trapping it between her teeth, as she leaned onto the bar, standing directly across from him. He lifted his hand to release her lip with his thumb.

“Don’t do that,” he said, with a wink. She blushed.

“One slice of peach pie coming up,” she announced. She cut him a slice herself and slid it in front of him, placing a fork on the plate as well.

“What are you going to school for?” he asked, as he noticed the books she had been reading before he had interrupted.

“Writing,” she said. “I used to love it, a long time ago. After my daughter died, I sort of picked it back up. It helps me. I want to write a book one day, so I’m taking some creative writing classes.”

“I can’t wait to read it,” Ethic responded.