EIGHTEEN

They ended up at a retro diner not far from Daniel’s penthouse. Word had it that the chef had resigned from a five star Michelin restaurant in New York to realize his childhood dream. The place was tiny though, big enough for only eight patrons at a time and patrons usually had to book a month in advance to secure a reservation.

But the owner of Mike’s Diner was an old friend of Daniel’s and the cheerful man welcomed the trio and baby Timmy with open arms.

“Come! Come! Take a seat!” the bald chef in a black tank top ushered them in through the neon green swing doors and into a brightly lit eatery where a jukebox played to the groovy sound of music.

“Leanne! Three double patties and chocolate milkshakes! Let’s fatten these kids up!”

Baby Timmy started to cry and Daniel shot the chef a murderous look before storming over to the jukebox and yanking off the wires.

The thing was too bloody loud! From the corner of his eyes, he saw Jane quickly fish