Maya's POV
We found a diner two streets from the brownstone.
The same kind as the one in Brooklyn weeks ago. Laminated menus, automatic coffee and a booth by the window. Aria sat beside Luca without being directed to and studied the menu with the focus of someone who had opinions.
"Pancakes," she said.
"Done," I said.
"With the strawberries on top not mixed in."
"I'll tell them."
"And orange juice but not the kind with the bits."
"I know your orange juice preferences."
She looked at me over the menu. "Just make sure."
I ordered. The waiter left. Luca had coffee and I had coffee and Aria had the orange juice without bits, and she inspected it carefully before drinking.
The diner moved around us. A couple by the counter. Two men in work clothes. A woman with a laptop. Ordinary Thu
