Identity

Morgan stretched out beside her. “We should get a crazy birdhouse. I’m not sure what a cutting garden is, but now I want one.”

“I can make that happen.” She reached over, gave Morgan’s hand a squeeze. “I do love it here. Not the big, giant yard of my dreams, but it’s full of potential. Especially since you let me have my way.”

“We play to our strengths.”

“You should ask Gorgeous Guy over for dinner.”

“We don’t cook.”

“We can put something together. I can ask Mama for something simple but impressive. She’ll know. We’ll clean this up, then go in and figure out what you’ll wear on your date.”

“It’s just pizza, Nina.”

“Today pizza, tomorrow who knows? We play to our strengths,” Nina reminded her as she sat up. “Dating is my area. I think casually sexy for pizza date with Gorgeous Traveling Man.”

“I may not have anything that hits that mark.”

“Trust me, I can make that happen, too.”



* * *



She’d wondered if Gorgeous Traveling Man would breeze into the Round on Saturday night—then asked herself what it meant about her that she was disappointed he didn’t.

She told herself it was just as well, as they’d been slammed again. And she’d picked up a short afternoon shift when the Sunday bartender had an emergency appendectomy.

She’d gone straight from work to Nina’s family dinner, enjoyed some amazing paella, a lot of laughs.

After work on Monday, she biked home. Since she’d spent part of her brief downtime over the weekend checking and rechecking her finances, projecting how much she could afford, she’d talked to her office-manager job boss about the costs of taking down the wall, redoing the kitchen—new appliances, new counters, new cabinets. The works.

With that number in mind she biked home, adjusting her plans to fit those finances. Paint the cabinets instead of replacing—for now, because she refused to give up the kitchen island of her dreams.

When she parked her bike, Nina came to the front door.

“You’re cutting it close.”

“I’ve got an hour and a half. Nearly.”

“Get in here, amiga mia. We’ve got work to do. I’m doing your makeup.”

“I know how to do my makeup.”

“You know office-manager makeup, and just-flirty-enough-bartender makeup. But do you know sexy-casual-pizza-date makeup?”

“That’s very specific, but probably.”

“No probablys.” Nina ticked a finger in the air. “My bathroom. I set it all up. I got a stool for you, since you’re six inches taller than me.”

“Six and a quarter inches.”

“Rub it in, Legs.”

Being Nina, she took nearly half the time Morgan had left to perfect her work.

“I think my face gained five pounds.”

“Worth every ounce. Just look at that face. You’ve got those beautiful green eyes, but now they’re amazing! I do good work.”

She couldn’t argue, not when her eyes looked huge and the green deeper, and her skin dewy and fresh despite (because of?) the endless layering and blending.

“The red gloss on the lips really works,” Nina decided, studying the results of her labor. “The matte would’ve taken it over to sexy-sexy. This is good. You have perfect lips, just full enough, just wide enough. Go get dressed.”

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Staying in.” Nina followed her into the bedroom, just to be sure Morgan wore what she’d already chosen.

“Really?”

“Plenty of Mama’s leftovers from last night. I’m taking a rest and beauty night. Bubble bath, hair mask, face mask. A long bubble bath with a glass of wine and candles. An evening of self-care. Then I want to hear all about your date.”

“It’s just pizza.” And now all this prep made her nervous.

“You’ve got to start somewhere. God, you’ve got a great ass,” she added as Morgan wiggled into snug jeans. “A yard of legs topped by a tiny little ass.”

Morgan looked over her shoulder, shook that ass. “You hitting on me?”

“If Traveling Guy doesn’t, something’s wrong with him.”

“I’m not looking for hits.” Morgan slid into the bright blue sweater. “Maybe, depending, a subtle nudge could be acceptable.”

Under Nina’s watchful eye, she changed her earrings for some dangles, pulled on her best boots, then slipped on the stone-gray leather jacket, a Christmas gift from her mother.

“Do I pass?”

“Casual sexy personified.” Nina took a small atomizer out of her pocket. “Walk through the spray,” she ordered, and spritzed.

With an eye roll, Morgan walked through.

“Perfect. Now we’re going to have a drink.”

“I’m going to have a glass of wine with dinner.”

“You’re going to have a quarter of a glass now, just to smooth everything out. And if you go nuts and have two glasses with dinner, take your date on a walk around Market Street, down to the park and the pond and back. In fact, you need my blue floral scarf. It’ll add just the right touch.”

At seven on the dot, despite Nina insisting she shouldn’t be right on time, she walked into Luigi’s.

It hummed in the way she thought a good restaurant should, and smelled of sauce and spice and melted cheese.

It relieved her to see Luke already in a booth, and the smile he sent when he saw her didn’t hurt her ego one bit.

He slid out of the booth as she approached, took her hand, kissed her cheek lightly. “You look amazing.”

“Thanks. I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

“Only just got here. Terrific jacket,” he commented as he helped her take it off.

“A gift from my mother.”

“She’s got excellent taste. I ordered a bottle of red when I got here. I hope that’s okay. We can change it if you want something else.”

“Red’s fine. How was your weekend?”

“Productive. I did take your advice, spent a little time at the Inner Harbor.” He gave the waitress that smile when she brought the wine.

“Have you decided on what you’d like?”

“Maybe give us a few more minutes.”

“No problem. Take your time.”

Luke lifted his glass. “To a pleasant evening in good company. I really thought you might change your mind.”

“And miss free pizza?”

He laughed. “What do you like on it?”

“Anything, everything, or nothing. Pizza is never wrong.”

“You’re talking my language. Now, how was your weekend?”

“Also productive. Nina and I planted some pansies. They make me smile every time I come home or leave the house.”

“The housemate who works in a garden center.”

“That’s right.”

“You’re good friends.”

“We are.” The first real, permanent friend she’d made in her nomadic life. “It’s great having someone who gets your rhythms. She’s generally up and gone before I get up for work, and usually in bed by the time I get home from the Round.”

“That probably helps. I mean you both have your own schedules, so it adds to having your own space.”

“Yeah, so when we share that space, we enjoy each other. Is it odd not having a regular routine, neighbors, friends around?”