But Nick doesn’t seem confused or horrified. Instead, he turns to me and waves a scrap of paper in the air. “Yeah. No kidding.”
I inspect the paper, a string of numbers that slowly starts to make sense. “Is that . . . her phone number?”
“It would be weird if she gave me someone else’s phone number.”
The realization dawns on me. “Did you want her to hit on you?”
Nick crosses his arms, staring at me a little too intently for my liking. “Why do you care, Chloe?”
For once, I’m speechless.
“Because you wanted to pretend that night between us didn’t happen, so I’m not sure what else you want from me. You’re hooking up with a grown man who calls himself Mikey. Do you want me to be celibate?”
Of course I do is the first thought that pops into my mind. I don’t want Nick to even notice other women. I want every other person on earth to be simply a pale imitation of me. The thought of Nick putting those strong hands on another woman, of his stubble rubbing against someone else’s neck, of his body pressing another body into the brick wall of the shop, makes me want to barf.
I’m not saying I’m proud of those thoughts, or that they’re fair, but I’m saying they’re mine. Part of me wants Nick to be here, in the shop, waiting for me as I stumble through life.
Reason #4: He’s the scruffy-bearded hunk who’s always there when you need him.
“I don’t want you to be celibate.” I close my eyes, because looking at his face is too much. “Go do whatever you want. Get phone numbers from whoever you want. Sleep with whoever you want. I don’t care.”
“Good to know,” Nick says, brushing past me.
I watch him walk into his office and shut the door. There’s a part of me—a large part of me—that wants to run after him, wants to throw open the door and kiss him until he forgets that other women even exist. The part of me that says, What if Annie’s right? What if the movie is right? What if what if what if you’re supposed to be with Nick Velez?
But believing that would require me to be a different type of person—one who thinks soul mates are real, for starters. Or one who believes in rom-com perfect happy endings, instead of what I actually believe in, which is the real-life right now. Those happy endings don’t exist for people like me, but joy-filled moments sure do.
I put on some yacht rock, paste on my Customer Service Chloe smile, and try my hardest to forget that Nick Velez is back there in his office, possibly texting a beautiful woman at this very second.
Chapter Eight
“Wait,” Annie says on the phone, because the events of last night and today merited a phone call, not a series of texts. Annie’s currently in LA, doing something-something-something related to her movie (I zone out when she gets into specifics), and I decided this couldn’t wait until she was back in town. “You’re telling me you slept with Mikey Danger?”
“No need to put it so crudely, Annie,” I say, immersing my hands in the pie dough. I have her on speakerphone so I can work on making this vegan pâte brisée out of coconut oil and coconut milk. It’s occasionally confusing and bewildering to work without butter, but I love being able to offer options at the shop.
What I’m not telling Annie because it doesn’t matter is that Mikey and I didn’t actually have sex. We made out for a while and then he left, but I feel like I should at least keep up the Chloe Sanderson mystique.
“A lady never kisses and tells,” I continue, adding my chilled coconut oil to my flour.
“Could a lady confirm or deny the rumor that Mikey has the word Danger tattooed on his lower abdomen?”
I make a face that only the pâte brisée can see. “Uh, that’s a hard deny. I have standards, Annie.”
“Sorry! I’ve been wondering about that since high school.”
“Ew. No. All of his tattoos were normal and not warnings.”
“Okay. Um.” She sighs, the air rushing into the speaker. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Yes, I will be the godmother of your child.”
“If we were doing the whole godmother thing, it would be you for sure. But that’s not what I wanted to talk about.”