A knock at the door had her sucking in a breath.
Beth didn’t turn at first, her hand still gripping the edge of the dresser like a lifeline.
Then a familiar, cheerful voice drifted in from the doorway.
“Hey, I’m going to order some pizza. What should I get for Bryce? I’m guessing he won’t want our usual,” Kim said innocently, unaware that her friend was wrestling with a flood of emotions.
At the sound of Kim’s voice—not the baritone she’d been bracing for—Beth relaxed her grip and turned.
“You’re probably right… but I don’t know what he eats. Wow. Kim—I don’t know. I DON’T KNOW anything about this man! Not even the simple stuff, for crying out loud! I don’t know what he likes on his pizza or if he even likes pizza.” Beth stared at her friend, horrified.
When Kim didn’t respond, her panic kept rolling.
Her words escalated before she could stop them. “Oh my goodness, what if he doesn’t even eat pizza? I love pizza—I eat it several times a week. I’m not giving up my pizza just for him!” Tears began streaming down her face as her frustration and vulnerability burst forth.
“Whoa, girl, slow down. It’s just pizza. I’m sure he eats it. He’s a guy—he probably wants extra meat on his,” Kim coaxed gently, her tone laced with reassurance.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
“Look, there he is now.” Kim shot her a warm smile. “We’ll just ask what he wants and, in the future, when you realize there’s something you don’t know about him—don’t freak out. Just ask. It’s okay not to know everything right now.” Giving Beth a quick hug, Kim left to answer the door.
“Yeah, okay. She’s right. So not a big deal,” Beth muttered, wiping her face with the hem of her shirt and turning back to the dresser as Kim walked away.
“I can’t believe I’m crying over this,” she whispered
“Crying over what?”
Beth jumped as the masculine voice asked her a question. She froze—shoulders stiff, back tense. Eyes closed, mortified.
She turned slowly to find Bryce standing just inside her bedroom doorway. Despite her embarrassment, her heart skipped a beat. Fitted jeans. T-shirt. Ridiculously handsome.
“Going crazy,” she blurted—the first thing that didn’t require lying.
“Hi?” he said, not knowing exactly what was wrong but sensing something was.
“What do you like on your pizza?” she asked flatly, ignoring his greeting.
“Kim already asked. I think she’s ordering now.”
His response infuriated Beth.
“That’s all well and good, but Kim isn’t going to live with us. As your ‘wife’, I should at least know the simple things—like what kind of pizza you eat. In case I ever want to order one for us.” Her tone was sharper than she intended. Bryce’s brows lifted slightly, but he met her serious mood with one of his own.
“Canadian bacon and jalapeños.”
“Oh. You like spicy foods.”
“Spicier the better. What about you?”
“I like jalapeños on nachos, but I’ve never had them on pizza.”
“I’ll share if you want to try a piece,” Bryce teased.
Beth wrinkled her nose and shook her head, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips.
“Not that brave today—my stomach’s still on the fritz.”
Bryce took a moment to scan the room—the open drawers, scattered clothes on the bed, and the half-empty bag lying there—and studied the tension lining her shoulders, the single tear she hadn’t even noticed had escaped. After a long moment, he sighed.
