Page 32 of A Pizza My Heart

“At six fifteen,” she starts again, clearing her throat, “you mentioned your divorce.”

“So?” I shrug. “Lots of people are divorced.”

“True, but not all people then go on a five-minute spiel about how ready they are to date again after said failed marriage.”

“Being ready to date is a bad thing?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “Not at all. But you sounded…too eager.”

I frown, picking up on what she’s really trying to say. “You mean desperate.”

“Exactly.”

I toss her observation around in my head. The more I think about it, the more right I think she is. Ididcome across a little…enthusiastic. It probably didn’t seem genuine, probably came off more as if I was trying to convince myselfandher that I’m ready to date again, which isn’t the case at all.

I’m happy to have my ex out of my life. I’m happy to have myself back. Do Ineedto be dating someone? No, but do Iwantto date someone? Sure. Nobody wants to be alone.

And after having such a horrible experience with Layla, I’m just trying to find the right somebody to spend my time with.

Someone who makes me laugh, who will laugh with me.

Somebody who makes me feel good and worthy and all the things I haven’t felt in a long damn time.

A person who will let me beme.

Like Wren.

“Your silence indicates you think I’m right—which I am—so let’s move on to the next strike.”

“Jeez. How many strikes do I have?”

“How much time do you have?”

I drop my head into my hands with a groan. Scrubbing at my eyes, I say, “Just lay it on me.”

“You didn’t flub up again until six forty, so there was a solid twenty minutes of you not being a moron. Good job there, Foster.”

Wren reaches into her apron then slides a Tootsie Pop my way.

I stare down at the candy, unable to help the smile that crosses my lips. “Really, Wren?”

“What? I think a reward system can help you remember to stay on track on your next first date.”

“Next first date? You don’t think I’ll go out with Brooke again?”

“Oh, not a chance in hell.” She laughs, exaggerating just how good my “joke” was. “Gosh, Foster, I forgot how funny you are.”

I glare at her, and she smashes her lips together, trying to hold in what is now real laughter.

“Right, right.” She clears her throat, shaking her head and pushing her shoulders back, trying to look serious and professional, like she’s a real dating coach or some crap. “So, at six forty you brought up your dog.” Wren lifts her hand when I open my mouth. “Hang on, I’m getting there, but first I just want to say that you even having a dog is something we’re going to need to discuss later because when in the hell did you get a dog, huh?”

“About two years ago. He’s my best friend.”

“Does Winston know?” she whispers conspiratorially, looking around to make sure we’re not overheard.

I lean into her, dropping my voice low. “Considering Mike is more than likely curled up on his couch right now, I think he knows.”

Her nose wrinkles and I already know I’m going to catch hell for something I just said, though I don’t know which thing it will be.

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