Page 49 of Last Slice of Pie

“Didn’t you try to set them up once?” he asks.

“I did. It bombed spectacularly.” I laugh at the memory.

“Seems like it turned out all right to me.” He grins while picking up his wine glass and taking a sip.

“Yeah, sure did.”

Zach and Shelby’s story was one we never saw coming, and it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that threw them together, kicking and screaming.

“What about Meg?” He leans back in this chair, watching me.

I uncross my legs and re-cross them in the other direction.

“Meg is the strongest, kindest, most amazing person. She has zero filter in the things she says, which makes her funny, and she wears high heels while working in the kitchen all day. I always find myself wishing I were a little more like her.”

“I like you just the way you are.” He twirls the stem of the glass between his fingers. His gaze is so focused on me, and heat blooms on my cheeks.

“You’ve met her, right?” Everyone loves Meg. She’s a spitfire, but so positive in everything she does. I’ve never met anyone who lives their best life like she does.

“I have, at the wrap-up party for Zach and Shelby last summer. Poor Jack, his tongue basically rolled out of his mouth when he saw her, and he proceeded to follow her around all night.”

“Meg, she, umm . . . well, I hate to say it because he’s so nice, but Jack really isn’t her type.” I scrunch my nose.

“No? Well, what is then?” His forehead wrinkles. He loves Jack, so I can see how this would make him prickly on behalf of his friend.

“I know it sounds weird, but no one is her type. She’s not interested in anyone, and for reasons that are all her own, but that’s just Meg.”

“Huh.” He thinks about what I’ve just said. “Well, if anyone can wear her down, it’ll be Jack.” He nods as if there’s no other option.

“He would be better off trying to be friends with her instead.”

“Maybe.” He shrugs then changes the subject. “I can’t believe tomorrow is New Year’s Eve.”

“I know. We’re about to move into my favorite time of the year.”

A waitress stops by the table and drops off a tiramisu. My mouth waters at the sight of the sweet dessert.

“You prefer the beginning part of the year over the end? What about the holidays?” He grabs a spoon and leans over the table to scoop some out.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love the holidays, but there’s something fresh, new, and optimistic about January through March. We have the best weather in Florida, and it’s strawberry season.” I take a scoop and lick off the chocolate-dusted mascarpone cheese.

“Strawberries.” He grins. “I should have known there was food involved.”

“I do love strawberries.” I grin back.

“So, what did you do last year for New Year’s Eve?” he asks as I stuff my face unabashedly.

“Nothing. I stayed home and watched the ball drop from my couch. How about you?”

“I went to Billy’s. Missy loves throwing a party, and it’s impossible to have a bad time at one.”

I want to ask if he kissed anyone at midnight, but I’m not sure I could handle the answer. I know the idea of him not ever being with someone else is ridiculous, because that’s not reality, but it still makes me nauseous to think about the possibilities.

“Well, I’m excited to go to Camille’s tomorrow night,” I tell him.

“And I’m excited to show you off.”

Aged Gouda and Thyme Shortbread Cookies