Page 57 of The Affair
Since my mom had moved out, I’d been living like a frat boy coming off a bender. Greasy food, coffee, and whatever would fit in microwave.
“Well, I have good news, and I have bad news,” he said as he folded up a paper bag. “What do you want first?”
Taking a seat at the kitchen table, I wrapped my arms around my chest and shrugged. “Um, bad news?”
With a quick smile, he replied, “How did I know you’d opt for the bad news first?”
“Because I’m such an optimistic person?”
He laughed. “You are definitely a half-empty sort of girl, aren’t you?”
He wasn’t wrong.
“What is your bad news, Sawyer?” I asked, needing him to get to the point.
Sitting down beside me, he leaned back in the chair, his large body seeming to completely dwarf the wood chair. “I ran into Reed in town.”
“Okay,” I said, not quite getting why this was bad news.
“I ran into him outside the grocery store, driving your car.”
Our eyes met, and suddenly, everything made sense.
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “If he wasn’t a hundred percent convinced we were sleeping together before, I’m pretty sure that just sealed it for him.”
“Did you explain?” I asked, feeling that same rush of panic I’d experienced at the store when Reed showed up.
“He didn’t exactly give me time.”
Taking a deep breath, I let it out, giving it all a second to settle.
“It’s fine,” I finally said. “It doesn’t really matter what he thinks.”
He seemed surprised by my answer and the truth behind my words. “Are you sure? Last time—”
“Last time, he caught me off guard, and I reacted poorly,” I said before adding, “I’m sorry. It was wrong of me. I told you when you started at the store that my past with Reed wouldn’t affect what happened between you and me—and I meant it.”
I swore, in that moment, you could hear a pin drop as I waited for him to react.
“Well, okay then,” he replied, a megawatt smile plastered across his face. “Unfortunately, that’s not all.”
My eyes widened as I prepared for the worst.
“I didn’t get pizza,” he confessed, his face showing his failure. “All three were swamped, it being the World Series and all.”
“Oh,” I replied. “Right.”
Honestly, I’d had no idea. Reed used to care about those sorts of things—sports and teams—and when we split, I hadn’t given any of it a single second of my time.
I counted it as a serious benefit. I hated sports.
“That’s okay,” I finally answered. “I’ve honestly had my fill of pizza this week.”
That wasn’t a lie. Not only were the pizza delivery guy and I on a first-name basis, I was well on my way to single-handedly funding his entire college career.
“Okay, good. Because I thought maybe I could make you something? Nothing fancy, but it will be better than pizza, I can promise that.” His voice was hesitant again, and I was starting to like this shy side of him.
