Page 59 of The Suit

“No, who was he?”

“He was before our time. He taught Constitutional Law before Professor Reedie, and retired early to become a judge in a local town about an hour north of Boston. He’s why I became a lawyer. The first time I saw him preside, I knew that’s what I wanted to do.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that. How did he feel that you never managed to beat me in Reedie’s class?” I grinned. “In fairness though, my dad did used to make us all recite the constitution since the minute we could talk, so you really didn’t stand a chance.”

Something flashed behind her eyes, but I didn’t have time to register it properly before Pierre arrived with two pizzas – one cheese, one unidentifiable – and another bottle of wine.

“MademoiselleBeulah, I ‘ope you enjoy.” He placed it down on the low table between us, her face of joy a direct correlation to mine of disgust as I got a whiff of the truffle he’d covered it with. “Truffle and burrata, with artichoke and fresh chili from the garden. I collected the truffle from the dealer this morning.”

She leaned forward to sniff it. “Amazing, I can’t wait to try it,”

His smile was so simpering it had me briefly wondering whether he’d ever been paid a compliment for his culinary skills before remembering my mother thought he was God reincarnated. He barely glanced at me as he placed my pizza down, which was fine because I was starving and didn’t want to waste time chatting about toppings.

Cheese saved time.

I took a massive bite, the mozzarella pulling out on a long string causing my mouth to water excessively as I sucked it in. It might have beenjustcheese, but he still made the best cheese pizza I’d ever had.

“Thanks, P.” I took another bite, “Fuck, this is good. You can make whatever fancy food you like, but this is your best work.”

He let out an indignant huff that basically said he couldn’t give a shit about my opinion, then turned back to Beulah, filling up her glass. “Let me know if you need anything else,”

As he walked off, Beulah leaned across the table and before I could stop her snatched up a slice of my pizza.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” I asked, watching as she nibbled on the end of the slice. I wasn’t sure whether to be offended or turned on.

“Just wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”

“And?”

She threw the rest of it down on the board, “Meh, it’s okay. Bit basic.”

“I’ll pretend you didn’t just say that,” I picked up the rest of her slice, lifting it up, “Shhhh don’t listen to her. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about,”

I stuffed the remainder of it in my mouth, and she let out horrified giggle that rippled across my heart.

“Want to try mine?”

“Not if you’re talking about pizza, I don’t.”

Her cheeks pinked and it had nothing to do with the flames flickering nearby. She took a slice of her own pizza, which had me wishing Pierre had stuck around to see her reaction as she ate it.

“Like it?”

“I do, very much.”

I poured out the glass of wine which Pierre had overlooked while he’d been too captivated with Beulah, and sat back watching as she continued eating.

“Never thought you’d be a picky eater.”

“I’m not. I like all those ingredients, just not on a pizza.”

She smiled, reaching for another slice. Her shoulders had dropped slightly as she’d relaxed into the simplicity of the evening, the t-shirt she’d pulled round her knees almost growing another size now it wasn’t constrained by her stiffness.

“So how does this measure up to Chicago pizza? It must be a staple part of your diet over there?”

She rubbed her fingers clean with the cloth napkin Pierre had placed in her lap, and picked her wine back up. “I don’t remember the last time I ate pizza, if I’m honest.”

“Well you came to stay on a good night then,” I smiled, but it had only served to add to my new fascination with her and put more questions in my head, and this time I wasn’t under a constraint. “What would you normally be doing now if you were in Chicago? What do you do for fun?”

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