Page 51 of A Pizza My Heart

I could kiss her right now, and I think she’d let me.

Wren clears her throat and I pull myself from the haze, not noticing I’ve leaned toward her until this moment.

Turtlenecks. Need some sex.

Well, that went well…

I take a step back. “You wanna get this cleaned up or what? You’re running out of sudsy time.”

She makes a face. “Let’s not have you referencing me being in the shower, Foster. You’re like my brother. That’s weird.”

There it is again, the reminder that we grew up together and I shouldn’t have feelings for her because we’re “just too close” or we’re “like family”.

Well, it’s too late. I have feelings—a lotof feelings.

And I’m tired of pushing them away.

Maybe the reason all these dates—hell, my marriage even—didn’t work out is because I was never with the right person.

Maybe…just fucking maybe…that right person is Wren.

If only I could convince her I’m more than just her brother’s best friend.

Slice Seven

Wren

Having Foster in my house is weird in a way I wasn’t expecting.

I mean, having any man in my house is a strange experience, because let’s be honest, it’s been a long,longtime since I brought a man back here.

But there’s something about Foster specifically. Having him in my space feels almost…normal, and that surprises the hell out of me.

When he was staring at my mom’s photo in the hallway, I couldn’t help but want to reach out and hug him. Winston and I aren’t the only ones who lost her; she was practically his mom too.

When our eyes locked together, I could see the sadness settled in his like it was totally at home there, and it broke me just a little more.

My eyes dropped to his lips and, for a split second, I wondered what they’d taste like.

Which is completely insane because it’s Foster.

What is going on with me?

I shake my head and lead us into the bathroom.

Flipping on the light, I reach for the first aid kit I keep beneath my counter. I fought Drew on purchasing it because there was no way I was spending ten dollars on some Band-Aids and scissors when I already had both, but boy am I glad to have it now.

“Here,” I say, handing Foster the box. “I have no clue what is even in here.”

“I can see that. You haven’t even opened it yet.”

“Nope, sure haven’t.” I hop up onto the counter, watching as he rips the packaging off the box, handing it to me to toss in the trash can on the other side of the toilet. “Good thing you’re here to teach me what everything is.”

“It’s not hard to figure out. It’s all labeled.”

“I don’t read.”

“Bull. You’re always reading.”

---