I should really stop acting like I was scared of my own shadow. I was the one who decided to strike out on her own. And that included not being scared of a phone call. Which meant I picked up my phone like the brave and independent woman I thought myself to be, sighing in relief when I saw it was my friend Quinn.
“Hey, Freya,” she greeted, her bubbly personality shining through her voice.
“Hey, what’s up?”
I put my bags on the kitchen table and started putting everything in my cupboards and fridge.
“Can we meet an hour later tonight?” she asked, the question not a surprise at all. She was either always late or made last-minute changes. But I didn’t mind since she was the most loyal and honest friend I’d ever had. She was also theonlyfriend I’d ever had.
“Want to meet at Deliziosa instead of the community center?”
We had a standing dinner date ever since we first met at a knitting group two years ago. I thought knitting would make a great hobby, but the one and only class I took still gave me nightmares. There was so much wool and so many ways to get wrapped up and never find your way out.
Quinn was in the same group and about as interested in knitting as I was. We’d skipped every class after that but still met every Thursday to hang out, our connection instant.
“That might be better. I’m still knee deep in tomato sauce and cheese,” Quinn said, sounding distracted as usual.
Quinn’s family owned an Italian restaurant called Deliziosa that was famous for its pizza. She had worked there since she was old enough to carry a plate and would one day take over from her parents.
The restaurant wasn’t only popular in our little town. People came from as far as San Francisco to eat there. They were usually booked out months in advance. Lucky for me, I knew the owner and could just walk in whenever I felt like pizza. Which was a lot.
“I’ll hang out with Paola until you’re done.”
I adored her mom, who had taken me under her wing ever since Quinn first introduced us. She filled a void I didn’t realize was there until I met her.
“She’ll love that.”
It would also mean pizza for dinner, something I wasn’t opposed to in the least.
“See you soon,” I said, and we hung up.
I had about two hours before I had to leave and used the time to put the rest of my groceries away and clean the house.
After a quick check in the mirror to make sure my long hair that now had bright pink tips—thanks to a drunk hair dyeing incident—was somewhat tamed, I stepped out of my apartment.
Washington was freezing in winter, and Ferguson was next to the water, dialing the temperature down to one level above trying to kill you. Though it was only the end of fall, it was already pretty chilly outside. But it was only a short walk to the restaurant, and I was wrapped in enough layers to not let the cold wind get to me.
“I’m almost done,” Quinn greeted me when I stuck my head through the door that led to the kitchen and waved at her. “Make yourself comfortable. Your pizza is almost done.”
“You’re the best,” I answered, unwinding my scarf from around my neck.
She grinned at me from behind the counter, where she had at least ten pizzas in various stages of completion. “I know.”
I dragged a bar stool from the hallway out into the restaurant and in front of the long wooden bar before planting my ass on it.
The place was as packed as ever. I realized early on that if I didn’t want to eat standing up, I had to get creative. So I found the ugliest bar stool known to mankind at one of the garage sales Quinn dragged me to every weekend. Since nobody would touch it in fear of catching an unpronounceable disease, I now always had a chair. The only rule was that I wasn’t allowed to leave it in the restaurant when I wasn’t there.
It really was that ugly, its neon green seat peppered with bright pink pigs smoking cigarettes. But it was surprisingly comfortable, and I had no shame when it came to getting a seat.
I was busy worshipping my fourth slice of pizza when Quinn appeared next to me. “Where’s Mom?”
“Mateo said she had to run out to get red wine because there was an issue with the order.”
Quinn groaned. “Not again. I swear the new guy is useless. Not once has he gotten any of our wine orders right.”
“I didn’t know you had someone new start.”
“He’s a third cousin twice removed. And Dad is a sucker for family, so he just hired him without asking for references or experience.”
