Page 14 of A Pizza My Heart

“Mysad, olddick, thank you very much.”

She brings her hand to her chest dramatically. “Sosorry. How could I forget?”

“What evenisa sad, old dick?”

“You’re the one who has one—you tell me.” She reaches for the deserted chocolate milk and sucks a healthy amount through the straw before leveling me with those cerulean eyes of hers.

Huh. Her eyes are the same color as my shirt…

“…to tell me.”

I missed everything she just said.

“I missed that. Repeat it.”

She squints at me, wanting to question why I zoned out on her, but obliges my request. “I said, do you have anything else you need to tell me?”

“You changed your hair. Again.”

“Foster…” she warns, lightly teasing but mostly sincerity lacing her voice.

“Fine, fine,” I relent. “Layla and I…we, uh, we got divorced.”

“When?”

“It just became official last month.”

“Does Winston know?”

I reach for my beer, seeking comfort in it once again because I have a feeling Wren isn’t going to be too happy once she learns what I’m about to tell her.

If she doesn’t know about my split from Layla or the divorce that’s been going on for months now, she definitely doesn’t know I’m living with her brother.

“Well, since I’m sort of living on his couch right now, yes, he knows.”

“What?!” she explodes. “Are you kidding me? I am going to kill that turd!”

“I’m going to assume you’re talking about Winston.” A short, dark-haired waitress slides my basket of chicken tenders in front of me. “Well, you’ll have to get in line for that murder. He just called in, leaving me stuck here picking up half his shift.”

She sets Natasha’s salad and side down in front of Wren, and I take note that my childhood friend screwed up my date’s order. Natasha wanted French fries, not onion rings. I have no doubt Wren did this on purpose.

“Which really sucks,” the waitress continues. “Chadwick was coming over tonight and I was planning on wearing my red thong.”

I nearly choke on the beer I just took a sip of.

“What the…”

“I’m just sayin’. I was going to look damn good for my man and now Winston’s completely ruined my night. I can’t wear a red thong when I haven’t shaved my…uh, my legs in a week.”

“Your legs, huh?” Wren says.

“What?” The girl points at me. “I don’t want to traumatize the poor guy and tell him what I’mreallyshaving.”

“He’s picking it up loud and clear,” I say to her then stick my hand out her way. “I’m Foster Marlett, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.”

She doesn’t look the least bit embarrassed by the words spewing from her mouth. Instead, she grasps my hand in the firmest handshake I’ve ever received from a woman and stands straighter. “Drew Woods. You’re way hotter up close.”

“Thank you…I think,” I reply, only a little surprised by her candor.