“I screwed up the time.”
“Uh-huh. If that’s true, then why not reschedule?” My eyes narrow. “Did you ghost her?”
“It’s kind of a long story.”
“I have time. I’m on break.”
He sighs. “I forgot we agreed to meet up and went to my buddy’s birthday thing instead, and there was this bottle waitress?—”
“You stood up your date to hook up with someone else?” My jaw nearly hits the floor mats.
“No. Nothing like that. There were some photos taken that didn’t look good. That’s it. Never saw the waitress—or Ada—again. She sent me a few fuming texts I didn’t know how to respond to, so I didn’t. And that was that.”
“That’s it?” I ask, waiting for the final blow.
“That’s it.”
“Wow. I was hoping for something a little more exciting. If you’re going to get dragged across the internet, you might as well make it count.” I eye him up and down before turning to face the dashboard again, ignoring the sympathy that’s sprung up. “You have a stain on your shirt, by the way.”
There’s a long silence as his eyes dip to his chest, then rise again. Only the GPS squawks at him to take a turn in a few hundred feet.
Finally, he asks, “Has anyone ever told you that you’re kind of mean?”
“Has anyone told you that maybe you’re too sensitive?”
He rolls his eyes as he pulls into a parking spot. “Stay here, I already ordered.”
“Ordered? How do you even know what I like?”
“Be right back.” He presses the lock button on the door and bolts from the car and into some little deli I’ve never even heard of.
For a split second, I wonder if what I said to him was too harsh. However, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that men who aren’t gentle with women’s emotions don’t deserve gentle treatment. If the big oaf can’t handle getting a little crap, then maybe he shouldn’t be dishing it out.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
DECKER
“Mr. Decker!Your order’s here. Two sandwiches today, huh?” Niko yells from behind the counter, craning his thick neck in an attempt to look out the glass front door. “Got someone special waitin’ for ya? Who is it today?”
I ignore the insinuation and grab the two paper bags from his hands. “Nah, one’s for Princess.”
“Which princess, huh?”
“You know which one.”
“Surely you don’t mean apopprincess.” An ornery smile unfurls below his bushy mustache.
My jaw goes slack, but I quickly recover. “Niko, you know you can’t believe everything the internet says. Half of it’s lies. Take it from me.”
He laughs as he rips down some little papers hanging behind the counter. “Sure, sure. You just never know with you, huh, boss?”
Shaking my head, I can’t help but smile at his antics. I’ve been coming here for years. He practically has my order memorized. It’s not a restaurant I see Lena liking, but I had a craving today. Beyond that, I kind of want to see how Miss Pop Princess reacts to a couple of greasy deli sandwiches. I don’tknow why I’m denying this very real, not-real relationship right now. That was the whole point. It was our agreement. Pull this thing off, get everyone to believe that it’s the real deal. It’s one thing to fool strangers online or for five seconds at a restaurant, it’s a totally different thing to lie about it to someone’s face that I’ve known for years.
I throw a chunk of cash in his tip jar—extra today, mostly to make myself feel better about the lies, but he deserves a bonus anyway. Maybe he’ll use it to finally spruce this place up. “The only Princess for me has four legs, you know that.”
“That I do, boss! That I do!” He waves as I back out the glass door, the little bell ringing overhead as I exit.
Lena jumps when I throw my car door open, her phone dropping into her lap.
