Jeremy ordered two slices of pepperoni and mushroom and a Coke. Turning up my nose to salad, I ordered one slice of cheese and another Sprite. The slices were huge and greasy and smelled delicious.
“What about your diet?” he asked when we sat down with our pre-made slices, nodding to my pizza.
I shrugged. “I can eat this,” I explained, taking a bite of ooey-gooey cheesy perfection.
“You can?”
I chewed and swallowed. “Yeah. It’s sort of a diet I made up. I call it the half-ass diet.”
Jeremy nearly spit his Coke. “What?”
“Um. Half-ass.” I bit my lip, feeling self-conscious about my made-up diet.
“How is it ‘half-ass’?” He took a bite of his own slice.
“I’ve been on it since June, and I’ve only lost seven pounds.”
“Better than gaining weight,” he offered.
“Yeah, that’s what I figured. But it’s slow-going. Mostly because I do things like eat ice cream and donuts when I feel like it. Oh, and pizza.” I lifted my slice and took another big bite.
“I’m sorry if bringing you here ruined your diet,” Jeremy said, watching me with obvious pleasure.
“Nah,” I replied. “Like I said, it was half-ass to begin with.”
He laughed at that. “They sell ice cream here too,” he offered.
“No way. I had enough of that the other night. Way too much, in fact. But I had a good excuse.” Damn it. Why couldn’t I stop talking about my dumb problems with Harrison? I wiped my mouth with a napkin, hoping I didn’t have an errant blob of tomato sauce on my cheek.
“Consolation ice cream, huh?” Jeremy took a bite of his pizza.
I gave him a skeptical look. “Don’t tell me you eat consolation ice cream?”
“No. Guys tend to do more of the consolation beer thing.”
“Then how do you know about break-up ice cream?”
He wiped his mouth with his napkin. “My sister.”
“Oh, yeah. She was a year younger than me, right?”
“Yep, and when she and Christopher broke up in college, God, the ice cream she ate that summer.”
“Hey, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”
Jeremy took a swig of Coke and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “So, I’ll ask you again, why haven’t you dumped the history professor?”
I rubbed the back of my hand over my eyes. “Do you really want to hear the story?”
“Of course. I need to make sure my competition doesn’t come crawling back to knock me out of my Mr. Darcy status and rob me of my new job.”
I swallowed. That was far too close for comfort to what I’d been thinking. Far too close to what I’d been hoping, actually.
“I don’t think that’ll happen,” I said, hating how mopey my voice sounded.
“What makes you so sure?” He took another bite of his pizza.
I wiped my greasy hands on a white paper napkin. “Because he’s going to the competition with Lacey Lewis instead.”
Jeremy’s face scrunched into a frown, then his eyes widened. “Lacey Lewis? The actress? Holy crap, are you serious?”
“As a heart attack.” I chomped on the pizza crust.
“One of the guys at work said she was in town. Studying for a role. Oh!”
“Yep. It’s true.” I popped the last bit of crust into my mouth. “Harrison’s her tutor.”
“Damn.” He blew air into his cheeks. “That sucks.”
“Doesn’t it?” I gave him the best fake smile I could muster.
“I’m sorry, Meg,” he said, somberly.
The empathetic look on his face and the sincerity in his voice made tears sting my eyes, for some reason. I shook my head, needing to restore the funny, friendly vibe from earlier.
“But I still don’t get why you didn’t dump him,” he continued. “He sounds like a dick.”
I bit my lip and sighed. “It’s not his fault. Our boss asked him to do it.”
“Yeah, well, if my boss asked me to toss over my girlfriend, I’d tell him where he could stick it.”
The tears burned even hotter. I shook my head again. Was that true? Would Jeremy really do that? “But Dr. Holmes could recommend Harrison for tenure. Harrison can’t tell him off. That would be reckless. Career suicide.”
“So what? Some things are more important than your career.”
That was near blasphemy, as far as I was concerned. “Yeah, well, some of us care about our careers.”
“So, you’re not mad at him...or upset?” Jeremy prodded.
“Oh, I didn’t say that.” I studied the pattern of smeared tomato sauce on my plate. The blood-red color reminded me of Lacey’s stupid fingernails and dumb high heels. “It was hard to hear it. Hence, the consolation ice cream. But I understand why Dr. Holmes wants him to go with Lacey. It’s good publicity for the department.”
Jeremy rubbed the back of his neck. “Some things are more important than good publicity, too.”
“Yeah, well, I guess I’ve never really been all that emotional about stuff like that,” I said, even as the tears continued to prick at my eyes.
“Only you ate a pint of ice cream after you heard the news?”
Bloody hell. The man had a point. I expelled my breath. “It was just that I’d expected him to—”
I stopped short. What? Was I about to tell Foxy that I’d really thought a guy who’d tossed me over for an actress had been about to propose? No. No. Not a good idea. I’d keep my humiliation to myself, thank you very much.
“You thought what?” he prodded.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s just...sometimes you make plans, and...”
“Everything goes to hell?” He took another swig of Coke.
“Yeah.” I pushed my crumpled napkin around my empty plate. “Everything goes to hell.”
Jeremy glanced at his phone. “Well, look at that. Half hour on the dot, Doc.”
I stood and shifted my bag over my shoulder. “Thanks for the pizza.”
“Thanks for coming with me.”
I took a deep breath. There was only one way to end the evening. “As for the job...I’m formally offering...”
“I accept,” he said with a grin.
“Great.” I grinned back, happy for the melancholy I’d been feeling moments earlier to fade. “The first thing we need to do is get started on your wardrobe.” I pulled a card from my bag and handed it to him. “Meet me tomorrow night at six. At this address.”
Chapter 9
Tuesday night
“No dogs to rescue tonight?” I asked when Jeremy showed up precisely at six at the fabric shop.
“None tonight,” he replied with a grin.
How had I forgotten, in the short span of one day, how good-looking he was? And I had not worn the cute little yellow flare skirt (with pockets) that I had on just for him. No, I had not. Nor had I used the stairs at school today all day instead of taking the elevator in an effort to lose my pizza, ice cream, and donut weight in a fruitless effort to attract Jeremy.