Page 29 of Pretty Relentless

This is how conversations go with Julia. She finds offense in everything I say, always kicking back instead of just listening. It was hard talking to her when we were married and hasn’t gotten much better since.

“Ready, Dad,” Annabelle hollers as she joins me by the front door.

“Great. Let’s go eat. I’m starved,” I say, holding up her coat to help her slip it on.

She doesn’t have a bag with her, since we’re just spending a few hours together and not the entire day, but I do notice she has a book. It’s one of the new ones I gave her for Christmas, and by the looks of it, she’s already halfway through.

“Bye, Mom. Love you. Be back soon.”

“Love you too, Belle,” Julia says, bending down and kissing our daughter’s head before we step outside.

The moment we get into my truck, she turns to me and says, “I bet you’re wondering about Mike.”

The right side of my mouth curls up. “A little.”

She rolls her eyes in true eleven-year-old preteen fashion. “Let’s go have pizza and I’ll tell you what I know.”

Smiling, I back out of the driveway, praying this closeness I share with my daughter never changes. She can tell me anything, good or bad, and it’ll never change the way I feel about her.

“Breadsticks?” I ask, heading toward downtown.

“Duh!”

Laughing, I let the awkward encounter with Julia and Mike go and turn my focus on Annabelle. “Let’s do it.”

Chapter Nine

Ava

I park on the main street through downtown Pine Village and climb from my vehicle. My stomach has been growling, and despite having plenty of food in my fridge to eat, I opted to start the new year off with some comfort food. My plan is to grab a small pizza and salad—you know, to offset the calories from the pizza—and dive into this cute rom-com movie I found on my streaming service. This time of year, there are plenty to choose from, most of which all have the same plotline. Small town, opposites attract, Christmasy, snowed-in vibe.

But I don’t care.

I’m here for it.

Most of the businesses in our small downtown are closed today, since it’s the first day of the new year, but everyone knows Movie Queue Pizzeria is open all day. They’re a huge hit for the early twentysomethings who might have drunk a little too much the night before, ringing in the new year.

Speaking of the night before, I’m still flustered about that kiss. Or almost kiss. Whatever you want to call it. Even the peck on the cheek left me reeling, and worse, made me crave more. I thought of nothing else, replaying every interaction we shared yesterday to the point I was obsessing about it well past the point I should have been sleeping. Then, when I finally did drift off, guess who was starring in my dreams?

Yes, him.

He looked so good last night in his jeans and form-hugging Henley. I’ve never cared about muscles, but seeing the outline of Gavin’s through his shirt had my mind picturing momentswhere he was removing said shirt so I could get an up close and personal view. It was another reason my dreams were filled with images of him and me together.

And yes, the shirt removal fantasy was the tip of the iceberg.

I woke up wet, aroused, and desperate for relief.

I had to take care of it myself before I could even get out of bed.

Now, I’m taking advantage of the somewhat decent winter day and getting out of my house for a bit to grab lunch. Of course, lunch will also be dinner, since the pizza for two is big enough to cover multiple meals for me.

I hurry into the pizzeria and stomp my boots on their welcome mat to clean off the snow. The scent of Italian sausage and tangy tomatoes fills the air, and my stomach growls. There are many tables filled in the dining room, but my plan is to order my food to-go and take it home. The reason I don’t just call in my order ahead of time is because I love this place.

Movie Queue Pizzeria is filled with movie memorabilia. Movie posters and still shots, ticket stubs and props. The walls are covered in it, and I swear, every time I look around, I find new stuff I haven’t seen before.

“Good afternoon, Miss Rutledge,” Lanita says. The bubbly, hardworking teenager is a former student of mine, having been in my classroom about seven years ago. She’s a senior in high school this year and plans to attend cosmetology school after graduation.

“Hello, Lanita. Happy New Year.”

---