Page 66 of Getting Over You

“Gigi. No,” I say. “You’re here for sad-slash-happy ice cream. Not EJ’s bullshit.”

“In fairness,” she says, placing a hand on the curve of her hip, “it’s not just EJ’s bullshit. We’re all benefiting from beer and food. Community bullshit.”

“Community bullshit,” I repeat.

“Come on,” Gigi says, pushing me aside so she can get to the front of the cart. “I’m helping.”

“Gigi.”

“Cade.”

I know I’m not winning. Not with her. “Fine,” I say. “I’m texting you the list.”

“Belinda’s with me,” she says as she begins to peruse the hot dogs. “I didn’t know Rory was vegan.”

“I don’t think EJ knows for sure, either,” I tell her. “What’s the occasion?”

“Belinda asked me what I do with my other family, so I told her my mom gets me ice cream, thinks ice cream is a cure-all. Now I’m here, because Belinda is trying to be Mother of the Year. We’re going home to watchThe Bachelor.”

“Really?”

Gigi nods once. “I found vegan hotdogs. I didn’t know that was a thing.” She holds up a package.

“How can hot dogs go plant-based?” I ask.

“You’d be surprised,” Gigi says, walking along the meat fridge, looking at steaks. “Black bean burgers are pretty good.”

“Black bean burgers? Do I have to buy those, too?”

“You should,” Gigi says, turning to look at me with a coy expression, “for Rory.”

She’s got a point.

“You haven’t told me why you’re getting ice cream,” I remind her.

“Why are you doing the shopping when I offered to do it?”

“Now who’s asking questions so they can deflect, princess?” I challenge as we round the corner to the freezer section. Belinda is standing in front of a cooler of pints, her hand on her hip just like Gigi does.

“How do you decide?” she asks. “There’s so many.”

“I usually stick to anything chocolate in store-bought,” Gigi tells her. “I’m a bit more adventurous at a parlor.”

I love that she’s so passionate about ice cream, that the passion is part of her unwavering makeup, in the same way she’s insistent on the simplicity of black coffee. In the way she insists on loving people, even if they have nothing to give back.

“Try something with a sweet and salty combo,” I tell Belinda. She turns to look at me, and her gaze travels up, down, back up again. “That’s my go-to. Hitsallthe right spots.”

Gigi flushes, her lips thinning. “I think black bean burgers are in the next aisle over,” she says quickly. “Let me grab those. For Rory.” And then she’s walking with purpose to more vegetable-meats, like she’s got an unwavering passion for them, too.

“I’ll get this because you highly recommended it,” Belinda says. She reaches into the freezer, grabbing a pint of Everything But The. “Little bit of everything, huh?”

I stuff my hands into the pockets of my jeans. “You got it.”

“You know.” Her gaze flicks to me, her eyes turning into slivers. “Gigi likes you. And she’s done with whatever other guy she was seeing. Now’s your chance.”

Gigi’s done with artist guy? “No shit,” I say. Then, recovering. “Sorry. No way.”

“I’m getting black bean and chickpea,” Gigi says as she floats back over. “That way, she has options.”

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