Page 74 of Doughn't Let Me Go

Me, clad in business attire because I didn’t get the chance to change. Her, looking like she’s waiting to meet the band backstage.

It’s ridiculous, and I probably look like I’m trying to pick her up or something.

I wish.

I barely resist letting my eyes fall to her ass as she slips into the booth on one side.

When I slide in opposite her, she lets out a loud sigh and stretches her legs out under the table, resting her feet on the seat beside me, careful not to let us touch.

“There.NowI can relax.”

I watch as she closes her eyes, settling in, letting the sounds of the restaurant wash over her.

Her arms are crossed over her chest, and I notice she does this a lot. I wonder if it’s her way of shielding herself against life.

We haven’t talked about her past much, but I know she didn’t have it easy. It almost seems like she’s always waiting for the other shoe to drop, and that’s a damn sad way to live life.

Her full lips are relaxed, not pinched or twisted together in a scowl.

Next to seeing her smile, this is how I like her most.

Serene.

“Is this our other thing?”

I watch her lips ask the question.

God, I want to kiss them.

“My eyes are up here.”

I chuckle, pulling my gaze up. “Other thing?”

“You know, coffee in the mornings, and then this—the staring.”

I tip my head, amused. “You were staring first.”

“True. Only because I couldn’t figure out what a guy dressed like you was doing in a place like this.”

I let my fingers play with the label on the beer bottle. “It’s all Foster’s fault. He couldn’t shut up about this place when we were in Cali together, always rambling on about how it was the best pizza he’d ever have. And he’s right, the pizza is damn good, but I think the real reason he loved it was because of Wren.”

She smiles wistfully. “Their story is so sweet. Childhood friends, him pining after her for years while she was too blind to notice. Then one day,bam!It comes crashing down around her.” Her lips pull wider. “It’s so sweet I could shit.”

I sputter, the beer I just took a drink of dribbling down my chin. “Oh fuck.” I wipe at it with the back of my hand. “Jesus, Dory.”

She bats her lashes innocently. “What?”

“Who the hell taught you that saying?”

“I picked it up from my favorite ex-stepfather.”

“Favorite? That implies there was more than one, right?”

“Correct.” She says it so matter-of-factly, like everyone has a bunch ofex-stepfathers. “My mom, uh, she’s big into rushing into marriage and then driving men away. It’s kind of her specialty.”

I wince. “Sorry.”

She waves a hand. “It’s fine. I had a lot of time to adjust to it since it happened my entire life. You just get used to the rotating husbands. She even married one guy twice. Poor bastard didn’t learn his lesson the first time.”

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