Miller's Diner looked exactly as Ayana remembered—red vinyl booths, checkered floors, the smell of coffee and bacon grease that had probably seeped into the walls over forty years. Sara was already there, waving from a corner booth, her baby carrier beside her on the seat.
"Ana!" Sara stood for a hug, and Ayana was struck by how different her childhood friend looked. Softer around the edges, tired in the way new mothers were, but genuinely happy. "God, look at you. Boston made you gorgeous."
"You look amazing too." Ayana slid into the booth, peeking at the sleeping baby. "She's beautiful, Sara."
"Thanks. She's also the reason I haven't slept more than three hours straight in two months, but I love her anyway." Sara signaled the waitress. "Coffee? Or are you too fancy for diner coffee now?"
"Never too fancy for Miller's."
They ordered—coffee, pancakes, the comfortable ritual of old friends falling back into rhythm. But Sara's eyes were assessing, curious in a way that made Ayana nervous.
"So," Sara said once the waitress left. "Boston. Tell me everything. Career, apartment, dating life. I want details."
Ayana deflected with practiced ease, talking about her degree, her volunteer work, the city's energy. But Sara kept circling back to relationships, men, whether Ayana had anyone special waiting back in Massachusetts.
"Not in Boston, no."
Sara's eyebrow rose. "But somewhere else?"
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to. Ana, I've known you since we were six. I can read you." Sara leaned forward. "There's someone. Someone here in Millbrook. Someone you're not telling your parents about."
Ayana's heart hammered. "Sara—"
"It's okay. I'm not judging. Hell, I'm intrigued." Sara grinned. "Come on. Give me something. Is he married? Too young? A bad boy your father would hate?"
All of the above, in a way.
"It's complicated," Ayana said finally.
"Complicated how?" Sara studied her face, and Ayana watched realization dawn in her friend's eyes. "Oh my God. It's someone important, isn't it? Someone connected to your family or the church. That's why you can't tell them."
"Sara, please—"
"I won't tell anyone. I swear." Sara reached across the table, squeezed her hand. "But Ana, be careful. This town people here don't forgive easily. If you're involved with someone inappropriate, when it comes out and it always comes out they'll eat you alive."
"I know. But I can't—" Ayana stopped, emotion choking her words. "I can't not love him, Sara. Even knowing what it'll cost."
Sara's expression softened. "Then he must be pretty special."
"He is. He's brilliant and broken and trying so hard to be good that he's forgotten how to live. And I know it's selfish, but I want to be the one who reminds him."
"That's not selfish. That's beautiful." Sara paused. "Does he love you back?"
"Yes."
"Then maybe it's worth the cost. Maybe—" Sara stopped, her gaze caught on something over Ayana's shoulder. Her expression changed, and she became knowing. "Oh. Oh."
"What?"
"Nelson Ward just walked in. And the way he's looking at you—" Sara's eyes went wide. "Ana. Please tell me it's not—"
Ayana didn't answer. Didn't need to. Her face said everything.
"Holy shit," Sara breathed. "Nelson Ward. Your father's best friend. The community centre director. The man who hasn't looked at a woman in twenty years."
"Sara—"
"No, wait. This actually makes sense. The way you've been glowing. The way you've been volunteering at the centre. God, Ana." Sara looked torn between awe and concern. "This is either the most romantic or the most dangerous thing you've ever done."
"Both," Ayana admitted quietly.
Nelson had spotted them. He approached slowly, his expression carefully neutral, but Ayana could read the tension in his shoulders, the concern in his eyes.
"Morning," he said, nodding to them both. "Sara, good to see you. How's little Emma?"
"Thriving, thanks for asking." Sara's voice was knowing, assessing. "You look good, Nelson. More... alive than usual."
Something flickered in his eyes. "Just excited about the centre's expansion plans."
"I'm sure that's it." Sara's smile was too knowing. "Well, I should get Emma home for her nap. Ana, we should do this again soon. Maybe next time you can tell me more about what's been keeping you so... occupied."
She left with a meaningful look, leaving Ayana alone with Nelson in a diner full of Sunday morning regulars.
"She knows," Ayana said quietly.
"I gathered." Nelson slid into the booth Sara had vacated, keeping a careful distance. To anyone watching, they were just two people having coffee. But under the table, his knee pressed against hers. "Is she trustworthy?"
"Yes. She won't tell anyone."
"Good. Because Ayana—" He stopped, lowered his voice. "Raven pulled me aside after church. Started asking questions about you. About how much time we're spending together at the centre. She's digging."
Ayana's stomach twisted. "What did you tell her?"
"That you're a talented volunteer, that I'm mentoring you professionally, that your father asked me to help guide your career path." His eyes were dark, worried. "But she didn't believe me. I could see it in her face."
"What do we do?"
"We're more careful. No more disappearing at the same time at events. No more office meetings with the door closed. We—" He stopped, jaw clenching. "We might need to cool things off. Just until the scrutiny dies down."
"No." The word came out sharper than intended. "I'm not doing that. I'm not pretending you mean nothing to me just because people are nosy."
"Ayana, if we're caught—"
"Then we're caught. But I'm not spending the next three months pretending. I'm not giving Raven or anyone else that kind of power over us."
He stared at her, something fierce and grateful and terrified in his expression. "You're so brave it scares me."
"Then be brave with me." She reached across the table, let her fingers brush his for just a moment. Anyone watching would think it was accidental. "Tonight. Eight o'clock. Your place. We make a plan—a real one. About when and how we tell my father. About the job at the centre. About everything."
"Okay." His fingers tightened around hers briefly before pulling away. "But after tonight, we need to be more disciplined. There is no contact at the centre unless it's genuinely work-related. There is no texting during the day. Nothing that gives Raven ammunition."
"Agreed." It hurt to say it, but he was right. "One more question—the financial corruption you found. Are you going to expose it?"
His expression darkened. "I have to. Dr. Hayes has been pushing me, and he's right. Thomas Garrett's been embezzling for at least two years. Thousands of dollars meant for kids. If I stay silent, I'm complicit."
"When?"
"I'm meeting with the board chair on Tuesday. Presenting evidence. It's going to explode, Ayana. Garrett's a church elder, a respected businessman. When the truth comes out, people will take sides. The centre might lose donors. It'll be ugly."
"But it's the right thing to do."
"Yes." He smiled grimly. "Though between exposing corruption and our relationship, we're about to make a lot of enemies."
"Then we'll face them together."
His eyes softened. "How did I get so lucky?"
"You didn't. You just finally stopped punishing yourself long enough to accept something good."
He wanted to kiss her—she could see it in his eyes. But they were in public, in a diner where everyone knew everyone. So instead, he just looked at her like she was everything.
"Tonight," he said quietly. "Eight o'clock."
"I'll be there."
He left first, stopping to chat with a few regulars on his way out, playing the role of community pillar perfectly. Ayana watched him go, already counting the hours until she could be in his arms again.
Her phone buzzed. Sara: Girl. GIRL. Call me later. I need details. Also—be careful. I mean it. That man's in deep, but so is your dad's trust. This is going to get messy.
Ayana typed back:
I know. But he's worth it.
Sara: I hope so. For both your sakes.
Ayana finished her coffee alone, watching Millbrook wake up around her—the town that had raised her, suffocated her, and now threatened to destroy the first real love she'd ever known.
But she wasn't backing down. Not now. Not ever.
Even if it costs her everything.