Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
A server grabbed two menus and seated us at a booth.
“Pepperoni?” Matt asked before I had a chance to look at the menu.
“Absolutely.”
“Pan or thin?”
“Thin,” we said at the same time.
“A Pepsi or Slice?” He set our menus on the edge of the table.
My grin swelled.
“Slice?” he asked.
I nodded.
“And garlic bread of course,” he added.
I couldn’t have dreamed of a more perfect first date. Matt was confident and right about all of it, like someone told him my favorites ahead of time.
“With extra sauce,” I said.
“Duh.” He rested his crossed arms on the table, the gleam in his eyes shining brighter than ever.
I don’t know why my sisters made falling in love so complicated. Why they had to battle unimaginable grief and so many tears to find their happily ever after.
“Was that all a good guess, or did you call my mom?”
Matt shook his head. “Just a good guess. I assumed your family ordered the same kind of pizza. And Sarah liked Pepsi, so I figured you liked Slice because there’s no way you’re going to be like your sisters.”
I inspected him for a few seconds before relinquishing a guilty grin. “And you like Coke.”
“Yes. But now I prefer a cold beer with my pizza. Don’t tell your dad.”
The server grabbed our menus. “Looks like you’re ready to order.”
“We are. We’ll start with an order of garlic bread, extra sauce. Then we’ll have a medium thin pepperoni, a Pepsi, and a Slice.”
“You got it.” She smiled.
“Thanks,” he said.
“You could have gotten a beer.” I played it cool, like I hung out with people who drank beer all the time.
“Nah. I’m driving precious cargo.”
We shared a look, and I knew he was referring to the drunk driving accident that shook our little town four years earlier. And while it still stung, I felt special for being considered precious cargo. The girl in the booth behind Matt walked over to the jukebox and selected, “I Still Believe.” I loved that song.
“So what kind of lawyer do you want to be?” I asked instead of belting out the romantic ballad.
“I’m leaning toward criminal law, but I have a friend who’s interested in tort law, and he thinks we should open our own firm someday.”
I nodded slowly.
“Do you know what tort law is?”
Again, I nodded. Then I grinned and shook my head. “I have no idea.”
“Tort is a civil wrongful act. Like harm to someone or their personal property. It can either be from an intentional act or negligence such as car accidents, medical malpractice, vandalism, defamation.”
“I see. Sounds exciting.”
“I suppose. It’s not as exciting as studying the brain or why humans behave the way they do, but it’s interesting and challenging in other ways.”
The server delivered our drinks. I stirred my Slice with the straw. “My mom thinks I’ll end up changing my major. She said that most students do.”
“Why did you choose psychology?” Matt set his straw on the table and sipped his Pepsi straight from the glass.
“Honestly?” I rolled the straw between my fingers.
Matt nodded.
“Two incidents led me to consider this path. There was this boy in my class whose parents were having marital issues, and my dad counseled them. But I overheard that boy talking to one of his friends about how ridiculous it was for them to let my dad get involved since he’s not a real therapist. But the couple stayed married, and I thought it was pretty cool my dad played a part in it. Then after the accident four years ago, a lot of students visited the school counselor, including me because I wanted to talk to someone who wasn’t my dad. That’s when I knew I wanted to help others in that way too.”
“That’s awesome, Gabriella.”
Matt’s compliment gave me a warm, tingly sensation all over. I loved when he called me by my full name. Just him. When my parents or sisters said it, it sounded condescending.
“So tell me about Ben. How long has he been your boyfriend?”
“What? No. I told you he’s not my boyfriend. What did you say your girlfriend’s name is? Oh, that’s right, you didn’t tell me.”
The server delivered our garlic bread. Matt nodded for me to take one first.
“Her name is Julianne.”
“What’s she studying?” I blew on the garlic bread before taking a bite.
“Engineering.”
I blotted my mouth with my napkin. Of course he would be with an ambitious, smart woman. I imagined she had long hair, defined arms, perfect cheekbones, and flawlessly applied makeup.
Pierced ears.
A collection of high heels.
And she probably knew sixty-nine.
How was my offer to bake bread and pop out babies while counseling married couples or troubled kids supposed to compare to a Julianne who would go on to design things like bridges or rocket ships?
Ugh!
“Sarah was never going to be an engineer.” I let her be the sacrificial lamb instead of pointing to my own shortcomings.