Page 38 of Good Girl's Guide to Love
Well,thatgets his attention. “Is that why he showed up?”
I quickly shake my head. “No. I didn’t call. But when he appeared, it threw me. At first, I thought that it might be a sign. That if I thought about him, and then all of a sudden he’s back, maybe it was a signal we should work it out.”
“Ainsley, I don’t care if you’re struck by lightning,neverget back with that idiot.”
That makes me laugh. “I know that. Well, now. It was just…I know my mental state going into last night. If he would’ve showed up, and you weren’t there… I don’t know what I would’ve done.”
I watch as Linc’s jaw ticks, which…why is that so attractive? I know last night that he was playing up the protective role when Jonathan was around. But seeing it today? When it’s just us? Oh, sweet baby Jesus…
“Well, then, that settles it,” Linc says, popping up from the couch and holding out his hand. “Yes, Ainsley Mae. I’ll be your fake boyfriend.”
I can’t keep the smile off my face as I stand up quickly—maybe a little too quickly as I wobble, suddenly lightheaded because that breakfast sandwich Linc ordered for me went untouched.
“Whoa,” he says, grabbing my arms just hard enough to steady me. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just need some food.”
“I know the perfect spot,” he says. “Come on, girlfriend. Let’s get a real hangover breakfast.”
“Here we go, Linc. One garbage omelet. And one avocado toast and fruit cup for the lovely lady.”
“Thanks, Mel,” I say, grabbing the bottle of hot sauce as Ainsley stares at my omelet, eyes so big they should be falling out of her head.
“Have you never seen a garbage omelet?”
She shakes her head at Mel’s question, which makes the seventy-plus-year-old Greek man chuckle. “I didn’t think any portion of food could be so big.”
“That’s why it’s a garbage omelet. Just a bunch of things thrown together. Cleans out the fridge. Garbage.”
“That makes sense,” she says, twisting her head to get another angle. “But did you clean out an industrial one?”
“Oh, I like her,” Mel says. “Even if she only ordered toast.”
I immediately open my mouth to apologize—because I really did want to try an omelet but my stomach rebelled at the thought—before Linc put his hand on my forearm to stop me. “Quit giving my girlfriend shit, Mel. She’ll eat what she wants.”
“Girlfriend?” he says. “You’ve been coming into this place every Saturday for six months and not once did you tell me you had a lady! Why’ve you been hiding her? Is it because she only eats toast?”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Toast is just a today thing. I promise when he brings me back next week I’ll try an omelet.”
Mel nods and gives me a wink. “I’ll hold you to it. You two enjoy.”
I laugh as Mel winds through the small dining area of his hole-in-the-wall restaurant back to the kitchen. “He’s a delight.”
“He’s something,” Linc says. “I hope you don’t mind that I told him that you’re my girlfriend. He’s one that I felt safe to try it out on who wouldn’t think I was full of shit, but also at the same time, if he didn’t believe me, he’d call me out.”
I shake my head as I pick up the slice of sourdough piled with bright green mashed avocado. “Not at all.”
“Good. But is it scary how easily it rolled off my tongue?”
“You had practice last night,” I say. “Now it’s just a continuation.”
“True. That, and the looks we got this morning probably helped.”
I’ve never done a walk of shame in my life. I’ve heard about them from Quinn and Stella. Maeve likely did them in her time, but she’s never shared the stories. But since I never slept with any guys in college, there was no shame to be had.
But this morning, as I walked out of Linc’s apartment building wearing the same rolled-up pair of gym shorts and oversized T-shirt he gave me earlier, I had a taste of what my sisters were talking about. Though they were just regretting decisions they made the night before, I was getting stared at by the people in his building and even received a few side-eye glances and whispers as we walked the few blocks to Painter’s Alley and then around the block to this hidden gem of a diner.
Linc was right. He’s a celebrity in the sense that people know who he is, but not enough that paparazzi were waiting outside of his building. But still, it was unsettling knowing that people now know who I am, just by association.
