“Sure. Right here.” We stopped in front of Motorino.
“Didn’t know they had a place up here. I go to the one by me in the East Village.” I opened the door. “I’ll grab a table.”
“What kind of pie do you want?” Bailey waited on the short line. “And what do you want to drink?”
“I’m pretty easy—pepperoni, sausage, mushrooms. I’m fine with any or all of it. And water’s good.”
“I’m a sausage man myself.” Bailey winked. Corny as his joke was, my lips twitched, and I sat, admiring his ass as he placed the order. He returned to the table with two waters. “Here. It’ll be a little while.” He clasped his hands around the bottle. “How was business today? Lots of people?”
Small talk was one of my least favorite things to do, but considering I’d asked him for help with Inktastic, he had that right. Bailey waited, face expectant, as if he were interested in me and what I had to say.
“Funnily enough, yeah.” Instead of brushing him off, I thought about my answer. “I told Jodi about your suggestions, and at lunch she ran out and bought one of those folding boards, you know? She made a new-client-special sign and put it outside the shop.”
“Great idea.”
Encouraged, I nodded. “I thought so. I got a mom who came after brunch with her girlfriends and a few tourists stopping by who wanted a memento of their trip to the city. So thanks.”
“My pleasure.” He chugged some water. “What’s this month’s most popular design?”
I grinned. “Believe it or not, it’sMomwritten inside a heart. Corny, huh?”
The twinkle in his blue eyes died, and I wondered why. “Yeah. Really corny.”
“I spoke to Jodi about setting up a social media profile, and she said she could do it, no problem.”
Bailey brightened. “That’s great. Between that and some local advertising, I bet you’ll turn your problems around.”
“Yeah. I hope so.”
He turned silent, and I didn’t push. The counter guy called out, “Bailey. Sausage pie.” He didn’t jump up, so I decided to leave him be and get the pizza myself.
Back at the table, he gave me a halfhearted smile. “Sorry.”
“No problem. Let’s eat.”
I ate my slice with short, quick bites, chewing and swallowing without tasting much. The second went down the same while Bailey still worked on his first. I picked up my third, and Bailey put a hand over mine.
“Hey, chill out. We have all night.”
My instinct was to snap at him to mind his own fucking business. But remembering the therapy Grady and I had taken together when we’d first met and the tools it had given me to deal with hurt and abandonment, I curbed my anger. “Yeah. Sure.”
He didn’t know—how could he? A foster child couldn’t be certain they would have a hot meal or a bed to sleep in every night. Life was lived on a wing and a prayer. I’d learned to take what I wanted as soon as it was in front of me, otherwise someone else would. But I sat and drank my water, watching Bailey catch up.
“I’m full. You still gonna eat that?” He tipped his head toward my plate, and I realized I hadn’t eaten the third slice. And didn’t want to. Maybe Bailey was right, and I should slow down and taste my food. I liked watching him eat. The way his tongue licked his lips, picking up stray crumbs and a bit of sauce. Howhis eyelids fluttered with appreciation of how good the pizza tasted.
I raised a brow and returned the slice to the pie tray. “No. Not now. Maybe later.”
“Much later.” His grin sent a throb of desire through me. “After.” He rose to his feet. “I’ll get a box to take it home with us.”
Home.Funny how that word had never had meaning to me until I met Carlos. And then it was all taken away, and I knew it wasn’t meant for someone like me.
“Keston?”
Bailey waited, and I gathered up the plates and dumped them into the trash.
“Let’s go.”
We walked out, Bailey holding the box, and somehow my arm ended up around his shoulders. The street was even more crowded now, and a guy decked out in designer logos blocked us from moving forward. Before we could step past him, he kissed Bailey.
