Page 122 of A Pizza My Heart

To punish me for paying a year’s worth of her rent, she made me continue sleeping on Winston’s couch for six months instead of moving me into her house like I know she desperately wanted to do. I guess that’s the level of petty she was willing to stoop to for me butting my nose into her business.

I don’t regret it for a single second. Seeing my girl breathe easier was worth all the nights I suffered on that lumpy old couch. After six months of pure torture, she finally asked me to move in—and paid my mounting chiropractic bill.

And they say romance is dead.

Though everyone knew we were together—because they have eyes and it’s not like I ever tried to hide my feelings for her—Wren didn’t want to tell anyone we were official for at least six months, “just in case”…whatever that meant. Like I was going to change my mind about loving her or some shit.

When we decided to move in together, she made the announcement. Winston gave us his official blessing, and Simon’s reaction was boring as hell.

“Dad,” Wren started, voice shaking. “We need to tell you something.”

He peeked up over the edge of the paper in his hands then sighed. “You finally got your heads out of your asses and you’re officially dating, moving in together, blah, blah, blah. Congrats, kids. Just remember what I said about romps in the workplace.”

And that was that.

He was more shook up when Wrenactuallyquit Slice to focus on her salon full-time. Mr. Carlton finally relented, and Wren moved forward with buying the house, even let me put a hefty down payment on it. We signed the papers just last month, making everything official. Not only does she have her dream home, her business is thriving, and I couldn’t be prouder of my girl.

I’m lucky, because nothing’s changed with Simon and Winston since Wren and I started dating. They treat me like they always have, like family. It’s nice not having to go through the whole meeting-the-parents-and-siblings rigmarole.

Everyone knows we’re not just boyfriend-girlfriend. We’re so much more than that. Our relationship has changed so much over the last several months, and not just because of all the hot sex we have now.

We’re better friends than we were before, and that’s saying something because we were practically best friends at one point. Now, though, there’s nothing we don’t share. We’re completely open. No secrets, no barriers at all between us, even when we’re not at our spot, the place designated for all that. We’re everything I thought we would be and more, and I’ve never been happier, that’s for damn sure.

The newest addition to our little clan, a chocolate Lab, comes bounding my way, tongue flopping from his mouth.

“Hey, Prison,” I say, picking the pup up and snuggling him into my lap.

“I can’t believe you named our dog Prison.” Wren leans over, placing a kiss on my cheek. “And get him off the couch before I beatyourcheeks.”

“Promises, promises,” I tease, putting the little fluffball back on the floor. He looks up at me with the saddest eyes and I immediately pick him back up, not afraid of Wren’s wrath. “How could wenotname him Prison? It makes all the sense in the world: Prison and Mike, Prison Mike. The creators ofThe Officewould be so fucking proud of us for coming up with this shit.”

“Would they? Or would they think it’s the dumbest thing ever?”

I hold Prison out to her. “Look at this face. Tell him his name is dumb. I dare you.”

She leans in close to the puppy and whispers, “Your name is dumb.” He sneaks his tongue out, licking her face like mad. She shoves him away, wiping away the slobber. “But you’re still cute!”

“Are you ready yet?”

“No! I have to go fix my makeup now.”

She darts off down the hall, but I don’t let her get far, dropping Prison onto the cushions and hopping over the back of the couch to tail her.

“Nope!” I sweep her into my arms, throwing her small body over my shoulder with ease. “No. We are leaving right now.”

“Put me down! I have to look cute for the alien baby!”

“So you admit it—he does look like an alien!”

She grumbles, swatting at my backside.

“I’m not letting you down,” I say. “We’re leaving right this instant.”

I push out the front door, twisting the lock on my way out.

“You’re not even wearing shoes, Foster!” Another smack at me. “I need my purse.”

“No, you don’t. I have money. And spare shoes in my truck.”I think…“We need to get going. We told Drew we’d be there at five thirty and it’s already five twenty-five. We’re late.”

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