Page 46 of With a Cherry On Top

I also can’t invite her over, though. Can I? It’d be unprofessional, and I’ve already crossed more lines than I care to admit.

Fuck me, I know which of the two arguments feels weaker in my mind.

“You should come over.”

Her eyes lift. “What?”

“Come over,” I repeat. “Sadie would love to have company.”

At that, the corner of her mouth twitches into a tired half smile. Maybe it’s because we both know Sadie won’t enjoy her company as much as I will. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll give you a ride back home.”

“Oh, well.” She gathers up her things. “As long as I get aride.”

She can’t help herself, can she?

“Sweetheart,” I say as I join Sadie’s side. “Charlotte is a friend of Daddy’s from work.”

“Like Auntie Amelie?”

“Yes, and she’s coming over to eat pizza. All right?”

She nods frantically. “Yes!

I hold the door open as Sadie asks her about her clothes, her favorite animal, and more I miss because all I can see is Charlotte stepping past me.

There’s no way this ends well. But right now, I’m not sure I care.

“Aren’t you going to eat?”Sadie asks, watching Charlotte as she stares at the pizzas laid out before us.

Her lips part slightly. “Uh . . .”

“You said you liked pepperoni,” Sadie insists, pointing at the untouched pizza.

Charlotte narrows her eyes playfully. “Yousaid you’d try it, and you’re eating cheese pizza.”

“I’ll try it after!”

“Sadie,” I say gently, cutting in before Charlotte can retort. “We don’t insist when people don’t feel like eating. They might have allergies or dietary restrictions or...” I trail off as she watches me with a puzzled expression. I reach out and tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s impolite, love.”

“Sorry, Charlotte.”

“That’s okay.” Charlotte hesitates for a moment, then inhales as if gathering courage. “Maybe...maybe I’ll have a slice.”

Her gaze lingers on the pepperoni pizza, almost reverently, like it’s something forbidden. But then, I see it—the way her eyes flicker up and away. She’s counting calories. Debating the extra fat, the indulgence, the guilt.

“You know,” I rush out, “meat has wonderful nutritional value.”

Her eyes fill with cautious hope.

“Proteins,” I add. “Cheese . . . it’s mostly fat.”

Charlotte’s lips quirk. “Pepperoni has cheese too.”

“Yeah.” I scramble for something better. “But if you’re going to eat junk food, you might as well get some nutrients out of it.”

She remains tense, and I know it’s because Beatrice’s obsession has settled so deeply in her mind that she can’t even enjoy a slice of pizza without guilt clawing at her.

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