Fitch eyed Darren the same way I eyed the pepperoni pie the waiter carried against his hip.
“You can’t still be hungry, sir. You had the Double Triple Threat,” Fitch said.
Darren laughed. “No, I’m full. I’m just keeping the lady company.”
Fitch drew a hand across his brow. “Phew. I was about to get the boys on the phone and tell them we had a tiger loose at Chevy’s.”
The waiter gave out a tiny roar and winked at Darren and then turned to me. “Uh-oh, what’s this? Eating for two, are we? What can I bring you, babe?”
“Oh, I’m not staying. I’d like a large cheese with mushrooms and black olives to go? I… I just needed to sit down,” I said. Fitch looked at my belly and nodded, then eyeballed Darren again and spun around and left.
When had I decided to make it a to-go order?
When Darren Chase had sat down. All six feet three inches, two hundred lean pounds of him.
“I’ll wait with you till your order comes,” Darren said. He smiled and I couldn’t help smiling back.
“So…”
Why couldn’t I stop playing with my phone? My hands were spinning it around on the table like it was a roulette wheel. And was I sweating? Jesus. This was worse than a middle school dance.
“So… hey, thanks for the tip about the library. Tilly is, uh, great. She’s very helpful,” I said. I looked around the arcade in hopes of spotting someone, anyone, I knew, but all I saw was a sea of Abercrombie hoodies, low-rise jeans, and trucker hats, inexplicably on the heads of teenage girls.
I wasn’t yet thirty and trends were passing me by like messengers on bicycles, fast and furious.
Darren said, “Gemma.”
I looked at him and he leaned forward and placed a hand over mine, stilling the spinning phone. “I’m not going to bite. I can leave if you want me to.”
I jerked my hand back and put it in my lap.
And then felt like an asshole.
I said, “No, that’s okay. I’m… it’s been… there was someone in my house last night.”
Tears rolled down my cheeks and I bit my lip. “Damn it, I’m fine. It’s just shaken me up a bit.”
Darren grabbed a handful of napkins from the silver dispenser at the end of the table and handed them to me. I dabbed at my face. Fitch dropped off a pitcher of water and two glasses and I waited for him to leave before speaking.
I was beyond embarrassed and surprised that I had lost it like that.
“I’m sorry, I’m normally a little more composed. It’s been a rough week.”
Darren nodded. “There’s no need to apologize. Is there anything I can do?”
“Not really,” I said. “Unless you can catch Nick Bellington’s killer, solve a thirty-year-old murder mystery, and deliver a baby in, oh, about three months. Preferably vaginally, so she doesn’t miss out on the whole birth canal experience. Apparently that’s very important, and if I have to have a C-section, she could end up going to state school, dropping out halfway through, and doing nails at the Nail Express on Highway Nine.”
“My mom does nails, on South Street. You might have seen her shop-Speedy Salon?”
Oh, shit. I felt my cheeks grow hot.
He grinned. “You should see your face. I’m kidding. Although I went to state school and I ended up fine.”
I blew out my breath. “Jokes are going over my head these days, Darren. I never cared about stuff like this before, but now I have crazy aspirations for the Peanut, like she’s going to go to Harvard and then medical school and then be the first female astronaut on Mars. I guess it’s true, kids will break your heart before they’re even born.”
“The Peanut?”
I nodded. “That’s what we… um, Brody and I, that’s what we call her.”
“And Brody is?”
Baby daddy didn’t sound exactly right. “He’s my partner… my boyfriend?”
Darren started to say something but Fitch arrived with a cardboard box, steam escaping from the side, and a bill. I looked at the box and knew I’d never make it home without tearing into it.
“Would it be all right if I actually ate some of it here?”
I signed the bill and left an extra large tip and when Fitch saw it, he gave an exaggerated sigh and said, “Well, I guess that would be okay. Thanks, doll!”
I opened the box and inhaled the heady air. Darren watched with amusement as I ate two pieces slowly, in silence.
“So, you and Brody, not married?” he asked. He reached over and took a slice of my pizza and folding it in half, took a bite. He took a second bite, and with the third, the slice was gone.
“No, we haven’t done that deed yet. We’re… well, to be honest, I’m still working out some issues. And don’t ever touch a pregnant woman’s pizza, if you value your life.”
He ignored me and reached for a second slice. “I thought all you young fillies ever dreamed of was the big white dress and the fancy affair.”
“That’s a pretty broad stereotype, don’t you think?”
He shrugged. “So, what’s the hold up? He’s got cold feet? Thinks he can do better?”
“You don’t know anything about me or my relationship. Brody very much wants to get married. I’m the one with cold feet. Haven’t you ever been spooked before? Jesus, where does it all go?”
I happened to know that Chevy’s Double Triple Threat was a stuffed double-crusted, two-layer pie the size of a tractor tire. I couldn’t believe he’d eaten a whole one and was now starting in on a second slice of my pizza.
He looked at me and blinked. “Where does all what go?”
“The food you eat.”
“Fast metabolism, I guess,” he said with a shrug, and finished off the slice. A glob of tomato sauce stuck to the corner of his mouth and without thinking, I leaned forward and wiped it off with my finger.
Without breaking eye contact, he took my hand and for a moment, I thought he was going to lick the sauce right off my finger.
Instead, he wiped it with a napkin and then released my hand and I pulled back.
What the hell was going on? I’d been with Brody almost five years. We were expecting a child together. I wasn’t the sort of woman who even entertained the thoughts that were now flying across my mind like rolls of thunder and lightning, booming and sparking every which way.
I blamed it all on Celeste Takashima. I wasn’t about to cheat on Brody but if I did, he could hardly point a finger. He set the standard long before I ever lay eyes on Darren Chase.
I said, “I should get going. I need to rest before… tomorrow.”
“Nicky’s funeral? I’m planning on going as well,” Darren said. He stood and watched me gather my purse and the pizza and then push myself up out of the booth. “I’ll see you there, I guess.”
“Uh-huh,” I said. “Sure.”
Then we stood there, in a Technicolor sea of hoodies and low-rise jeans, staring at each other, until finally I broke eye contact and turned and walked out of Chevy’s Pizzeria and Arcade.
And found all four tires on my car slashed.
Chapter Thirty
We drove up the canyon in silence. It was too late to get a tow, so I left my car at Chevy’s and reluctantly, but with little choice, accepted Darren’s offer of a ride. The inside of his Subaru was as beat as the outside, with a missing dashboard panel, broken cup holder, and seat covers that were heavy with fraying, fringy threads.
I ran my hand under my thigh and over a small tear in the cloth, poking my finger against the seat’s squishy interior foam cushion.
“You ever think about fixing this up?”
I was in a dark mood. The slashes on my tires were deep and I knew I would have to replace all four. Not only had someone been in my house, and scared me in the dark of the library, now they were messing with my ride. I knew it would be an expensive repair.
Darren glanced at me. “She runs fine, Gemma. I know she’s not much to look at, but the engine’s strong. I can’t really afford a new car right now. Sometimes it’s more important what’s on the inside than the outside.”