“The paperwork should be final in the next few days and then I’ll search for a decently priced house in the area, maybe a rental.”
I can’t imagine what his idea of “decently priced” is. Most of the houses in the Bay are easily hundreds of thousands. I almost open my mouth to mention we’re missing a roommate. Grant could surely make the rent each month and I wouldn’t have to worry he’d sleep with Drew. But Grant would never want to live in a turn-of-the-century house with a leaky faucet, squeaky steps, and outdated heating system. For a moment shame weighs on me, but then I remember how much I love the arches, original woodwork, and our huge front porch.
It’s not that Grant Moore is too good for our house, but we’re too good for him. He’ll probably end up in a modern, bland, featureless place. It will have smooth walls and straight floors, and it’ll lack character.
“Well I hope you’re able to find a place up to your standards soon.”
“Yeah me too, but let’s talk about much more important topics. Why you weren’t at brunch yesterday.”
“It’s personal,” I’m quick to retort. Who the hell is he to question where I am or am not?
Grant slows his steps and glances at me from the corner of his eye. “Aspen said you were sick.”
I must come up with new stack of excuses. “Women problems.” That should shut him up and stop the twenty questions I expect he’ll start any second.
“Oh…” His eyebrows shoot up and he becomes interested in the architecture of the surrounding buildings.
We turn the corner and my sympathy overcomes my annoyance, so I pick up the conversation again. “How was Aspen?” I’m sure she’s the same as she was when I saw her on Saturday, but it’s something to talk about that isn’t me.
“Good. I think she and Simone are both getting antsy waiting for a ring now that Marissa is married. And who in their right mind would have ever guessed Ryland would be the first of our group to tie the knot, huh?”
I’ve only ever seen Ryland while he’s been with Marissa, but apparently before they met the media portrayed the soccer superstar as a big playboy. Even if he says it was never true.
Aspen and Finn were the first to get together, merging the two groups of friends. Aspen calls it a turbulent time, but frankly I don’t get how anyone could date Finnegan McRyan and not figure out he’s a video game gazillionaire. He has a driver for fuck’s sake. That’s not a normal thing even for the wealthy. For as nice as Aspen has proven herself, she’s a bit naïve and overly trusting at times. I mean she befriended me. It’s obvious she grew up in a nice house with a family that cared for her, but it left her lacking street smarts.
Simone, the tall blonde is just perky. She swears I’m crazy and her life wasn’t special, but I can’t get the image of Simone as a sweet and peppy cheerleader out of my head. She met Trey on vacation and after more ups and downs than a Six Flags roller coaster, they somehow settled together. Trey is your typical tall dark-haired brooding hottie and Simone puts up with him.
Grant holds the door to Giorgio’s pizzeria open and I’m saved from having to answer. I like Marissa and Ryland married. It works.
“So what pizzadoyou want?” Grant asks not stepping up to the counter even though there isn’t a line.
I walk past him not needing time to check out a menu. Giorgio’s is literally around the block. We eat here often. I’ve had the menu memorized for years. “Personal pepperoni and extra cheese. Two cups of ranch on the side, please, Samantha,” I order referencing our cashier by her first name. What? I’ve already admitted I eat here often. It would be rude not to learn their names.
“I thought you didn’t eat meat?”
Samantha narrows her eyes in question. She probably knows my order by heart as well. “Shut up,” I say to Grant. And when he doesn’t call me on it, I let a smile slip over my features. There’s no way Drew would have let me get away with any of this and I love the fact Grant takes my attitude in stride.
Not that I want him to put up with me. If anything I hope the attitude puts him off and he’ll give up after this venture. At least, that’s what I mean to think.
“I’ll have the same so make it a medium,” he orders turning to me. “Drink?”
“Oh, Clare always gets a Cherry Coke,” Samantha says. I scowl even though the fact I’m a regular is obvious now. “Have a seat and I’ll bring it right out to you.”
I pull on Grant’s sleeve leading him to my favorite table in the far back corner. The red cheap vinyl crinkles as I slide across it.
“I hope this place is okay with you. It’s not your normal dinner venue.”
Grant pulls three or four napkins from the dispenser at the end of the table. “I wish you’d stop doing that.”
“What?”
“You act like I’m a rich, pretentious asshole.” He passes a few napkins my way.
His comment catches me off guard. That’s not what I’ve been doing, is it? “I’m not. I’m just saying you normally eat at better places.”
“I like pizza. Who doesn’t? And my family may have money, but it doesn’t mean I do. I go to work every day like everybody else.”
Nothing bothers me more than when rich people act like they’re no different from the rest of us. “Yeah but one day somebody’s gonna die and leave you a whole lot of money. And most of us don’t go to work running multimillion-dollar companies that share a last name.”
