“Let’s go,” he says, heading down the street without another word.
I jog after him and he slows down so I can catch up.
“Where are we headed?” I ask.
“Pizza shop okay?” he asks me.
“That would be perfect,” I tell him, my mouth already watering at the thought.
“I thought you New Yorkers were snobby about your pizza,” he says warily.
“Urban legend,” I say dismissively.
That makes him chuckle again, and I’m struck once more by the idea that his grumpy ways are just a disguise.
I like him like this, relaxed and smiling. I wonder if this is how he is at home, and I’m struck by a feeling I can’t quite place that makes me just a little sad that I’m not involved in that part of his life.
“Here we are,” he says when we reach the pizza place.
It’s hung with lights and garlands, and it has a sign that saysSlice of Heaven. I have to smile at that.
“What?” he asks.
“So many shops here have angel-themed names,” I point out.
“We’ve got town pride,” he retorts. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing,” I say. “Except that I guess I’ve got to think up a bookshop name with an angel reference.”
“You’ll come up with something good,” he says, pushing open the door to the pizza shop and gesturing for me to go in. “I have faith in you.”
I step inside and instantly my senses are reeling with delight. It’s deliciously warm in here from the pizza ovens, and the scent practically has my eyes rolling back in my head—a savory embrace of garlic, yeast, and whatever magical spices make pepperoni so decadent when it’s on top of pizza.
“I’ll just grab us a large,” Roan says, unaware that I’m practically having a religious experience here. “Pepperoni okay?”
“Very okay,” I tell him.
“Hey, Roan,” the guy behind the counter says with a smile.
“Gabe,” Roan says, nodding.
“What can I get you?” Gabe asks.
“Large pepperoni to go,” Roan says. “And two Cokes.”
“Coming right up,” Gabe says, winking at me as he rips the order off his pad and heads to the ovens.
Roan frowns.
Is he… jealous? Does he not like Gabe winking at me?
No, I’m being ridiculous. Of course that’s not it.
Gabe is back a moment later with two paper cups. He fills them with ice and soda and then hands them to Roan.
“We can sit while we wait,” Roan says to me, pointing to a booth.
I take the side that looks out the windows onto the town. There’s a small TV in the corner that’s showing the local news and weather. Unsurprisingly, they’re calling for more snow.
