Page 12 of Sweeter Than Fiction
“It happens to be one of my five major food groups. I can give you some money if you want. I don’t want to be rude.”
“It’s not rude if I offered,” I explain. “I always order way too much food. Like an ungodly amount of food. I never eat it all.”
“Well, okay. If you say so.”
“How about next time, you answer the door so the delivery guy can stop giving me judging looks.”
He laughs. “Deal.”
Not that I’m betting that there will actually be a next time.
When each of us has our plates full, Don asks, “So, do you want to talk about what happened earlier?”
I debate how much I want to divulge. Typically, I’d just change the subject and divert the attention away from myself. But I’ve almost finished my second glass of wine, so my guard isn’t quite as high as usual. And maybe it wouldn’t hurt to vent to someone.
Especially since Jensn didn’t answer my call when I got home.
Probably fearful I’m going to be mad.
Rightfully so.
Realizing I’ve been quiet for an obscene amount of time, I finally say, “My friend offered to set me up. I reluctantly agreed to go even though I knew it was probably a bad idea. I was right. The date was awful, and the guy should win douche of the century.”
“On behalf of all men, I apologize,” he says between bites. “We really are the worst.”
“This guy was ridiculous. We had nothing in common, and he treated me like crap the whole time. When I refused to let him in my pants, he proceeded to tell me how ugly I was and how no guy would want me.” I pause for a moment. “Now, that I’m saying it out loud, it sounds kind of stupid.”
“Hey, it’s not stupid. That guy sounds like an asshole. No one should talk to you like that.”
Twirling a noodle around my fork, I say, “I think it just caught me off-guard. I haven’t been on a date in a really long time, and I didn’t think it would go quite so badly. I guess you wouldn’t know much about that, though. Most of your dates seem to go pretty well.”
A crease appears on his forehead. “What do you mean?”
“Don, we have very thin walls. I can certainly hear when your evening winds up in a happy ending.”
I swear I see the slightest bit of embarrassment cross his features. “Oh, right. But let me tell you that just because they have happy endings doesn’t mean all those dates were perfect.”
I could ask what he means, but I’ve read enough romance novels to get the picture.
“Ready to watch more Gilmore Girls?” I ask.
“Let the speed talking commence.”
I stop for a brief moment. “Hey, Don.”
“Yeah?”
‘Thanks for coming to check on me.”
His blue eyes meet mine. “You’re welcome.”
As strange as this night has been, right now, I’m just going with it. And with that, I hit play.
Chapter Six
Don
“Come on, Hal. You’re almost two weeks behind schedule,” I tell my foreman. “What the fuck is going on?”
