Page 67 of Getting Over You

“Smart.” Chickpea burger? What in the ever-loving fuck is a chickpea?

“Come on,” Gigi says, “there’s more to get.”

“I think I can grab variations of beer by myself,” I tell her. “You can go do your ice cream thing.”

She frowns. “You need my help, though.”

I don’t, really. But if she wants to spend time together, I’m not arguing. “There’s nothing left on that list. I think I can handle it.”

Her delicate hand finds its usual place on that hip. “This saysthings to put on buns,” Gigi says. “Do you know what that means? Because I’m not one-hundred percent sure what the hell he means.”

She’s got a point. I have no idea what the fuck that means.

“Alright,” I say behind a sigh. “You got me. Come on.”

She smiles, satisfied. “I’ll meet you at home?” Gigi asks Belinda.

“Take as long as you need,” Belinda tells her. Before we roll our cart away, I catch her wink in my direction.

“I still don’t understand why you took this on yourself,” Gigi says as we meander through nearby aisles. “I told EJ I would do it. In fact, my plan was to get it done tomorrow after work. That way, if you guys needed help cleaning the apartment, we’d have plenty of time to—”

“That right there is why,” I tell her. “I knew you’d spread yourself thin if it meant helping.”

She pouts, the jut in her lip immediately causing a strain on my zipper. “Belinda says I should be thinner, so that works out well, really.”

I frown. “Can you tell me why you were getting ice cream,really?”

“I told you,” she says. “Belinda is trying to be a mom, so we had a weird heart-to-heart thing, and I told her aboutmymom buying me ice cream.”

“What was the heart-to-heart for?” I ask. “Did you get anywhere?”

Gigi shakes her head, purses her lips for a moment, like she’s debating what to say. “I attempted to ask why she’s so… herself. And chickened out. Kinda. It seems like she heard me for once, though, and actually absorbed what I said. It’s like she had no idea telling her daughter men prefer motivated, thin women was a bad thing. We’ll see.”

“Wait. She said that?” My jaw flexes. I clench my hand into a fist at my side, unclench, clench again.

Gigi waves a hand at me, and there those eyes go again. “That’s nothing new, Cade. She was telling me, in fact, thatyouprefer a motivated, thin woman.”

My eyebrows find my hairline in an instant. “That’s not true,” I mumble.What the fuck is Belinda doing?

“So, all the girls you sleep with are unmotivated and objectively curvy?”

“Well.” I sigh, pinch the bridge of my nose. “No.” She frowns. “But for her to act like you aren’t a girl I’d gladly sleep with,” and admittedly do one million other things for if it meant she’d smile at me, “that I’d be attracted to, is… wow.”

“She probably thinksshe’syour type,” Gigi says, flippantly. “Mind of a narcissist, Cade.”

I’ve never met anyone like Belinda Elliott.

Then again, I can’t say I’ve met anyone like her daughter, either.

On July third, I plan a date day with Gigi. It tugged on me, knowing she’s stressed about Belinda, worrying herself with EJ’s community bullshit, and whatever else she’s doing for anyone but herself.

So, I wake up early, and sit in the kitchen, drinking coffee, waiting for Rory to move, at least a little, so I can feel better about waking her up.

She leaps when I shake her, squealing and forcing her body far away, into the corner of the couch.

“Cade!” she exclaims. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“You’re off today,” I say, “right?”

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