Holding my chest, I look up and meet Belle’s eager eyes. “Maybe we can go out this weekend?”
She shakes her head sadly. “Sorry. I’m working this weekend. But I’m free tonight.” She looks so fucking hopeful, I wonder if that’s how I look when I’m around Iz. “Or tomorrow night?”
“Okay. Yeah. Tomorrow night.”
She nods like a bobble head toy. Taking my receipt, she writes her number in red ink. “Awesome. What about 188? Seven o’clock.”
Definitely not 188. It feels wrong. “How about Giuseppe’s at eight thirty?” Giuseppe’s is a shitty restaurant. Plastic covers on the tables. Candles, but no romance. And eight-thirty; later, so I can escape sooner.
“Okay, that’s cool.” She presses the receipt into my hand. “Call me.”
I nod in stunned disbelief. I have a date with Belle tomorrow night.
What the fuck did I just do?
Needing to escape both Jonah’s store and my impending date – two birds, one Belle – I jog out the electric doors and sprint the single block to Tina’s apartment. Short of seeing Iz, the usual person I’d seek when I need a fucking hug, I go for Evie, instead. Her mama scares me half to death, but Evie’s a little ray of sunshine on a stormy day.
That kid can hug like a boss.
It’s probably weird that I turn up alone to see the woman who’s friends with my family, but not actuallymyfriend, but I’ve passed the point of giving a fuck. Breakfast bar. One Evie hug. Then Bobby’s place for a shower and change of clothes.
They’ll mock me; they’ll assume my clothes from yesterday will mean I was with a girl all night.
It’s that loose guy assumption that got me through years without being torn apart for not bringing girls home. It’s not my fault they assume I’m a man whore. I kind of wish I was now, it would make me feel less pathetic.
I stop at the front of Tina’s studio doors, not surprised to find them still locked and the blinds drawn; it’s barely even seven thirty in the morning, so instead, I jog around the back and up the iron stairs. Knocking on the door, I smile at the instant sounds of curly haired toddler.
“Mama! Mama! Mommy!”
“Evie, shhh,” Tina scolds. “Who is it?”
“It’s Jim… ah, Jimmy Kincaid.” Jesus, she’ll probably have me escorted away in cuffs.
“Jimmy? It’s you?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s on the mantle above your mama’s fireplace? What photo?”
What the fuck?“Tina…?”
“Answer the question. Who’s in the picture above your mama’s mantle?”
“Umm.” I wrack my brain in an attempt to remember. “Ah, it’s the one of my mom and dad holding me as a baby. And my brothers are beside us holding trophies.”
I hear the snick of one, two, three locks, then the door opens only as far as the chain allows.
She thinks I’m a fucking psycho.
I step back with my hands up. “You know what, it’s cool. I’ll leave.”No need to call the cops.
I turn to leave, but before I get more than a single step, she slams the door and slips the chain from the catch. “Hey, Jim.” Big smiles, let’s all pretend that awkwardness doesn’t exist. “Come on in.”
With narrowed eyes, I step inside, but only so far that she can close the door. With arms folded across my chest, I wait for her eyes to meet mine. “What the fu…dgecake was that, Tina?”
“Jimmy!” Evie body-slams my legs and climbs me like a monkey. That calm I came looking for envelops me instantly.
“Hey, baby girl.” I lift her high and hug her like she was my own. “I missed you, sweetpea.”