Riley's POV
Riley's pulse hammered in her throat as she ducked behind the counter, pretending to busy herself with a stack of menus. Her palms were clammy, and she held her breath as if that could make her invisible. Every nerve screamed at her to look again, to check if her worst nightmare had finally tracked her down.
Slowly, cautiously, she peeked over the counter.
The man was seated at one of the corner booths, his head bent over a menu. Storm-gray eyes. The same broad shoulders. The same elegant posture that spoke of power, of entitlement, of someone born to own the air around him.
Her breath caught. For a terrifying second, she was back at that ballroom, under that chandelier, with his mouth on hers and his words slicing her open.
But then he shifted. His hair was different, not the glossy black that had shimmered under the lights that night, but a chestnut brown, neatly combed. His aura, too, lacked the razor-sharp edge she remembered. Damian had never blended into a room; he had commanded it. This man… this man was simply sitting. Reading. Breathing like everyone else.
Not him.
The relief hit so hard it was dizzying. Riley sagged against the counter, pressing a hand to her chest as if to steady the frantic rhythm of her heart.
"Jesus, Riley," she muttered under her breath. "You're losing it."
Still, her fingers trembled as she grabbed a tray of drinks. Two years, and she was still jumpy. Still seeing his face everywhere. Still afraid. She hated herself for it. Hated that even now, even after building a life without him, he haunted her like a ghost that refused to rest.
Get it together. For Caleb.
She balanced the tray carefully and forced her feet to move. The diner was full of Saturday chatter, families sharing milkshakes, teenagers with fries, an old couple splitting a slice of pie. Ordinary lives. Safe lives. Lives she wished she could wrap herself in.
Her table was by the window. She smiled at the couple waiting there, set the tray down and nearly poured orange juice all over a man's lap.
"Crap!" Riley gasped, jerking the glass back at the last second. A golden drop splashed onto the table, rolling dangerously close to the edge.
The man blinked up at her, startled. His wife gave a scandalized little laugh.
Riley's face flamed. "I am so sorry. I swear I'm not usually this clumsy."
"Don't worry, dear," the woman said kindly, patting Riley's arm. "We've all had those days."
Riley forced a shaky laugh, cleaned the spill with a napkin, and set the drinks down properly this time. She plastered on her professional smile and hurried back to the counter, her heart still sprinting.
From behind, Chloe's voice snorted. "Smooth move, hotshot. If waitressing doesn't work out, maybe you can join the circus as a juggling act."
Riley groaned, slumping onto the stool behind the counter. "I swear, if I keep zoning out like this, Lou's going to fire me."
"He won't," Chloe said, sliding onto the stool beside her. Chloe, with her wild curls and mischievous grin, was the only reason Riley hadn't crumbled in the past two years. She was best friend, roommate, Caleb's honorary aunt, and the glue that held Riley together on the worst days. "You're his best waitress. Besides, the customers love your 'mysterious distracted single-mom' vibe."
"That's not a vibe," Riley muttered, rubbing her temples.
"Sure it is. Men tip you more because they think you're tragic and beautiful."
Riley rolled her eyes, "Wow, I so appreciate that."
"It's fact" Chloe said nonchalantly.
Riley shot her a look, but Chloe just winked.
The laughter helped, but only a little. The truth pressed heavier than the tray she carried earlier. Rent was due in two weeks. Caleb needed new shoes. The diner hours barely stretched enough to cover groceries, let alone the bills stacking on the kitchen counter like silent accusations.
"I'm thinking about getting another job," Riley admitted quietly.
Chloe's teasing smile faded. "Riley, you're already running yourself ragged. Between double shifts and Caleb…when do you plan to sleep?"
"I don't know," Riley whispered, twisting the silver ring on her finger. It wasn't anything special, just a cheap little band she'd bought herself, but sometimes she wore it to feel stronger, as though it anchored her to reality. "But we're drowning, Chloe. If we fall behind on rent again…"
Chloe cut her off gently. "We'll figure it out. We always do. Stop putting the weight of the world on your shoulders."
Riley shook her head. "I have to. Caleb deserves better than this. He deserves more than a tiny apartment with leaky faucets and a mother who can't even promise he'll always have warm milk."
Her throat tightened, but she swallowed it down.
Chloe reached over, squeezing her hand. "You're doing amazing. That boy is happy, Riley. He adores you. And you're not alone, okay? You've got me. We'll get through this together."
Riley's eyes stung. She blinked fast, unwilling to let tears fall in the middle of the diner. "Sometimes I wish I could just…start over. Somewhere new. Somewhere no one knows me."
Chloe's smile tilted sadly. "You mean somewhere he'll never find you."
The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken truths.
Riley didn't answer. She didn't need to. Chloe already knew. She knew the ghost Riley was running from. The one with stormy gray eyes and a voice that could still shatter her if she let it.
A shout from the kitchen broke the moment. Lou barked for Chloe to grab her orders, and Riley slipped off her stool, tying her apron tighter.
She pasted on her smile and went back to the floor, weaving between tables, refilling coffee cups, jotting down orders. For a little while, she lost herself in the rhythm of it, the clatter of plates, the hum of conversation.
But every time she glanced at the corner booth, her chest clenched. The stranger who looked so much like Damian was still there, sipping his coffee, scrolling on his phone, utterly unaware of the chaos he'd stirred in her.
Her shift stretched long into the evening. By the time she clocked out, her feet ached, her hands smelled faintly of grease, and exhaustion hung heavy over her shoulders. Chloe met her at the door, their laughter soft as they walked into the night together.
But Riley couldn't shake the image of that man. Couldn't shake the fear that one day, it wouldn't be a lookalike. One day, it would be him.
And when that happened…there would be no place left to hide.