When You Make It Home Read Free Page B

little. Even though I knew the menu by heart, I grabbed one from behind the napkin dispenser. “I’ll have this…” I pointed to the chicken tender salad, justifying that the pile of greens canceled out the fried parts. I flipped the menu over. “Oh, and some of those.” I tapped on the shiny photo of potato skins, and my mouth watered.
    “Diet Coke?”
    “Lemonade.”
    She smiled broadly, jotting down my order. “I can tell it’s one of those days when someone is willing to eat what they’re not willing to say out loud.” My mouth fell open, but she laughed and sauntered away before I could change my order.
    The usual was safe. I should’ve stuck with the usual.
    With my back to the windows, I sat facing the crowd of people stopping in on their way home from work. The Maroon 5 song was loud, but the talk was louder. Stools circled the restaurant’s high-top tables, and booths lined its main walls. In the heart of the room, beneath stained-glass lights, an oblong bar pulsed with human activity.
    In a precise row sat five men, dressed casually in cotton clothes in tans, grays, and greens. They were well built, well groomed, and well received by the flock of women huddled around them. Although not in uniform, the fit and handsome group had the look of military. But in their current location, they stood out in an ocean of black and navy wool-blend suits, starched white shirts, and colorful silk ties loosened just a tad.
    In the middle of everyone sat Theo.
    I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. Neither could the tall, lithe brunette chatting with him. Her electric-blue top left three inches of perfectly taut, tanned stomach exposed, and her ample breasts fought against the shimmery fabric. Theo appeared completely enamored of her; his gaze trained on her boobs as if he’d never seen anything more tempting. And who could blame him? She radiated youth.
    I never worried much about my age, but something about being twenty-four, sitting in a bar, single and pregnant, watching a chick who was rocking the barely legal look flirt with the man who’d been haunting my thoughts… well, that left me feeling past my prime. Done with people-watching for one night, I switched to the other side of the booth for a view with 100% less cleavage. I zoned out, staring at my bookstore, and I thought about work, my favorite distraction.
    By the time Karen delivered my order, I was ravenous. I sucked down my lemonade and plucked the fried chicken strips out of my salad, dipping the chicken into creamy ranch dressing, moaning as I savored it all. After finding food repulsive for so long, I was suddenly infatuated with eating. The flavors and texture of most anything I put in my mouth tasted richer and more delicious than ever. So, there I sat, almost making out with my fried chicken strips, about to dive into the potato skins, when Theo fell into the seat across from me.
    “Slow down, blondie. No one’s going to steal your chicken.”
    “Don’t start with me.” I scooped up a potato skin covered in—yes—bacon from my plate.
    He also helped himself to a potato, not bothering with a plate or fork. Or my permission.
    “Why don’t you dig right in?”
    He nodded at my belly. “That thing is growing well on all this fried food.”
    I nodded right back to the cigarette tucked behind his ear. “Yeah, and you’re the poster boy for good health and wellness.” I pushed my plate away and folded the napkin in my lap.
    “No.” He leaned in closer and spoke in a firm almost-whisper. “I’m not well, and I’m not all that good either.”
    I tensed. Maybe I’d pushed too hard. Ready to apologize, I met his stare, but his lips stretched wide in a grin.
    “Don’t stop pounding food on my account.” He winked and scooted the plate back in front of me. “You’re pretty hot when you stuff your face.”
    A rare feeling bubbled up inside of me, and I laughed—something I hadn’t done in far too long.
    His attention lingered on my