Page 26 of A Pizza My Heart

She laughs mockingly. “Just here? At least twenty-five.”

“Where else do you work?”

“Oh!” She jerks forward, waving the fry that’s pinched between her fingers. “I almost forgot you were gone for forever so you don’t know. I have my own salon.”

“What? You do?”

She nods. “I converted my shed to a salon.”

“Back up.” I hold out my hand. “A shed? What shed?”

Her mouth drops open. “Did Winston not tell youanythingover the years?”

“Apparently not,” I snap, annoyed.

Well, to be fair, not only did Winston and I not talk often while I was gone—which is entirely my fault—the last person I asked about when we did chat was Wren. I couldn’t bring myself to ask him about her. I didn’t want the reminder of what I left behind.

“Yep. I’ve been renting that house off Western.”

“The little blue one?”

“That one.”

I grin at her. “I told you so.”

Her cheeks tint an adorable shade of pink. “Braggart.”

Wren used to talk about that house all the time. It was exactly everything she ever wanted, she’d say, which I always had to laugh at because she had no idea what the inside looked like. She just liked it because it perfectly matched the color of her eyes.

“Mr. Carlton will never sell it to me. He’s old and grouchy and I’m pretty sure he hates me because I always confuse him by changing my hair color.”

“He likes that you keep him on his toes.”

“He hates me. It’ll never happen.”

“Not if you keep being negative it won’t. Power of positive thinking, Birdie.”

“I’m positive your ‘power of positive thinking’ bit is annoying. Does that count?”

Looks like I was right all along.

I’m just pissed I wasn’t here to see it happen.

Pushing away the sting, I beam her way. “I’m proud of you. I always knew you’d do it. Pow—”

“—er of positive thinking.” She waves her hand. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Guess you had enough good juju for both of us.”

“You’re welcome.” I take a sip of my beer, my second for the night. Wren notices, and not just because she was my waitress.

She tips her head toward my bottle. “That’s new for you.”

“The drinking?” She nods. “Yeah, it’s a habit I picked up during the divorce. They sure as shit don’t warn you when you get married how stressful a divorce will be. Or how expensive.”

The reality of my mistake settles in again and I try to push it away, not wanting to dwell on the past. Well, it’s technically my present too, but whatever.

“Anyway, this”—I shake the bottle—“is nothing. It got pretty…dark for a few months there. I was lucky enough that my friend Porter out in Cali recognized what was up and stepped in before shit got too bad.”

“I don’t know this Porter character, but I like him already.”

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