Imperfectly Delicious (Imperfect Series #6) - Mary Frame Page 0,64

when I was doing the reality show. I missed too much, and I regret it.”

I don’t have a chance to respond to that statement because it’s our turn. We put in our orders and then step over to the pick-up window.

“You’re doing what you can, now, though. That’s something you should be proud of,” I tell him.

He rocks back on his heels and rubs the back of his neck. “Thanks.”

We take our food over to a little table and dig in. The pupusas are delicious, stuffed with cheese and covered in pickled jalapenos and coleslaw.

“What are you and the girls doing for Christmas?” I ask him.

He’s methodically cutting up his pupusas into bite-size sections. “Breakfast at Rockefeller Center with Santa. It’s a tradition. They love it. You?” He spears a piece of pupusa with his fork and eats it, his eyes on me.

“Heading home to Blue Falls.”

“With your parents?

I chew my food before responding. “No. Just Granny and Reese. I don’t know where my parents will be. I think their art show is tonight, actually, in Harlem.”

“You mentioned that. They never extended an invitation or called you or anything?”

“Nope.”

His green eyes watch me, searching. “Are they really that bad?”

I consider the question for a second. “It’s hard to describe, it’s probably more of my problem than theirs, really. I wish they cared a little more, you know? They aren’t bad people. They’ve never lifted a finger to me. Never yelled or anything. I almost wish they would, because it would mean they cared.”

I don’t think I’m explaining it right. Guy’s brows are drawn down.

I try again, fidgeting with a napkin on the table. “They aren’t evil. It’s just that they don’t care about things other than themselves. I want them to like me, you know? To reach out or try and feign some kind of interest. Like I actually matter.”

“Have you ever talked to them about it?”

I shake my head. “No. I don’t think they would listen, or care.”

He picks up my free hand and laces our fingers together and my heart flips a couple times. “Maybe the conversation isn’t entirely for them. Maybe it would help you, just to get it out there and off your chest.”

I stare down at our linked fingers. “I called my mother’s cell, just to say hi, but got her assistant. They always have some up-and-coming aspiring artists help them out, and they’re never very good assistants because they are as self-absorbed and scattered as my parents. Anyway, I told him—Alonso or something—that I was in town if they wanted to meet up, and he said, ‘Okay Sansa,’ and hung up on me.”

He lets out a short, surprised laugh. “Sansa? That’s not even close to your name.”

“That’s what I said, but Fred said maybe he really likes Game of Thrones? I guess it’s a character from the show.”

His hand squeezes mine gently. “Don’t limit yourself because of what other people think. Not even your parents. They don’t know you and it’s their loss because you are an amazing human and stronger than you know. You are enough.”

And when he says it like that, without wavering, I almost believe it.

I change the subject back to Granny and Reese and the upcoming holidays.

We finish eating, throw away our trash and then head into the park.

“That food was amazing.” I groan, rubbing my stomach.

“I know.” He holds out his arm and I take it, relishing the feel of his fingers closing over mine, pulling me firmly to his side.

I smirk at him. “I knew it. You do like food trucks.”

He turns his head speaking low and close, like he’s telling me a secret. “I have a thing for their owners, too.”

His breath tickles my ear and my stomach does a thousand flip flops in three seconds, flat. “Do you now?”

He stops suddenly and then without warning turns me into him and brushes his lips over mine, shooting a thrill straight down my stomach and all the way to my toes. I blink up at him, wanting more than anything to continue in this direction—the one where our lips are touching and maybe our arms, chests, legs and hey maybe we could take off our clothes, too—but then a group of people jostle around us and we break apart.

Breathless and dazed, I can do nothing but follow as he tugs me along the walkway.

We spend a couple hours traipsing around the amusement park.

There is an enormous white and blue castle, flashing with lights. We walk, pressed together, through