Page 41 of All's Fair in Love and Pizza
“Not a bad idea,” Sal spoke up. “You should ask the new QB too. That kid’s pretty popular, and he can play.”
Amber beamed. “Yes! I love that. I’ll get a couple of foodie influencers involved. If they hype us up over the next few weeks, we might go viral. And I don’t need to tell you how amazing that would be for business. Not just for us, but for the whole town.”
Vanni whooped, Jimmy and Sal offered Amber a fist bump, and I pondered the scope of what could turn into a larger than anticipated event during the holidays. Haverton was used to accommodating tourists, but we were still a small beachside town. We’d have to talk to the mayor and city council to be sure Haverton was ready to deal with parking, traffic, and portable toilets.
“This thing has taken on a life of its own,” I commented under my breath, sidling next to Rob.
“Yeah. What have we done?”
His deadpan delivery was funny, but his expression had a haunted quality I knew all too well.
As soon as the meeting adjourned, I pulled Rob into my office with a weak excuse about wanting to make sure he wasn’t stealing any recipes. My cousins definitely didn’t buy it, but Jimmy had opened the door for Mr. Smith and it was time to get to work.
I handed Rob a water bottle and pointed at the lone chair behind my desk. “Sit.”
He flopped into the seat and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, head low. “I’m fine. Just a little dizzy.”
I plucked the water bottle from his fingers, uncapped it, and held it up again. “Drink. You’re pale.”
Rob obeyed, his gaze locked on the scuffed tile floor. “Careful. Someone might think you care.”
“I just don’t want you passing out in my restaurant. You can do that next door.”
“You’re all heart, Cavaretti.”
I nudged his knee gently. “Hey, you know I’m kidding. You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m just…light-headed.”
“Panic attack?”
Rob furrowed his brow. “I don’t think so. I haven’t had a panic attack in years. I guess I’m a little stressed.”
I considered him thoughtfully. “I get it.”
He took a gulp of water. “I have anxiety. I’m on meds. That’s not something I share lightly, so…”
I made a zipped-lips motion. “Understood. You know what you need?”
“A blowjob and some lorazepam?”
“Maybe, but I was thinking…we should go surfing.”
He snorted. “Now?”
I stepped on his foot to annoy him. “Not now. Some of us have to work, hotshot. Tomorrow morning.”
“Uh-huh. Why surfing?”
“ ’Cause it’s fun. And it’s not bagels, it’s not pizza, and there’s no football involved. Just you and Mother Nature. The ocean is a great equalizer. Everyone could use a reminder that there’s something bigger out there than the BS in our heads, you know?”
Rob cocked his chin as he sat back. “Are we friends? ’Cause that feels…like something a friend would suggest.”
I opened my mouth and closed it. “Gross. Don’t get gooey on me, Vilmer.”
His eyes twinkled with mirth. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Later that evening,I brought my surfboard and the chicken parmesan my mom had left in my fridge to Rob’s house. We ate on the sofa, watching sports highlights and arguing about NFL player stats and our favorite flavors of cream cheese. Squabbling about who was wildly overpaid and why no one in their right mind would ever put pumpkin-maple cream cheese on a bagel was more fun than it should have been.
