Page 16 of A Pizza My Heart

Sure, I’ve known the Daniels since I was thirteen, but I don’t feel anything familial when it comes to Wren, and I haven’t for years.

Family isn’t anywhere near the kind of feelings she stirs inside me.

But she’ll never know that. I already tried telling her once, only to have it completely backfire on me.

Friends we shall remain.

“So, Foster, are youbackback?” she asks after a few minutes of silence, still picking at the toppings on her plate.

“I’mbackback,Wren.”

“You’re not just bumming on Winston’s disgusting couch while you lick your wounds?”

“His couchisdisgusting,” I agree. “And his roommate Sullivan is…weird.”

“So weird.” She nods, shoving a bite into her mouth.

“But no,” I continue, “I’m not just bumming around. I’m back.”

“No more running off with beach bunnies?”

Considering I’m homeless, my credit is fucked,andI’m divorced before turning thirty, that’s the last thing she needs to ask about.

“Not in this fucking lifetime.”

I try to keep the sharpness out of my voice, but she catches it, wincing.

“That bad, huh?”

“You don’t even want to know.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

With her? Hell no.

I don’t want to see the pity in her gaze, that same look everyone gives me when I bring up my shitshow sham of a marriage. It’s as embarrassing as it is sad. I’ll pass on that.

“I’d rather not.”

“Noted.”

She gives me a tightlipped smile, not loving my answer—which, to be fair, is an unusual reaction for me when it comes to Wren. We’ve always been good about talking. It was kind of our thing.

When Winston would blaze or munch himself into a weed coma, we’d stay up talking until the wee hours of the morning. I can’t even begin to count the number of times I’ve watched the sun rise with Wren by my side.

Our talks were unfiltered and direct. We didn’t beat around the bush about anything. We talked about everything from life to politics to the future to religion to aliens. You name it, we’ve probably discussed it.

But my divorce isn’t on the table.

Sure, I didn’t marry Layla for the right reasons, and I kind of used her as an excuse to run from my feelings for Wren, but the shit I endured during our marriage…that was real, and I’m still bitter about how things ended. All talking about it will do is piss me off, and I’m sick of being pissed.

I want happy. I want to just start fresh and not be known as the guy with the failed marriage.

“Sorry, Wren. I’m just…not ready. It’s still kind of raw.”

“But not too raw for you to start dating?”

“Damn. Shots fired,” I snark back, though her question is fair.

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