The Wedding Party (The Wedding Date, #3)(40)

She put slices of the pepperoni and black olive pizza on their plates and grabbed a stack of napkins, a jar of red pepper flakes, and the bottle of wine before she joined him on the couch.

“You got my favorite kind of pizza,” she said.

He smiled at her. No, she refused to let that smile make her the slightest bit gooey inside. That’s not what this was about.

“It was the least I could do.” He picked up the bottle of wine and poured more into her glass.

“Not only are you letting me crash here, but you’re sharing your wine with me. Getting your favorite pizza toppings seemed necessary.”

She shook some red pepper flakes on top of her slice.

“Even though you thought this would have been vastly improved by the addition of roasted garlic?”

He took the jar of red pepper flakes from her and sprinkled them on his own slice.

“It would have been vastly improved by the addition of roasted garlic, but that’s not the point.”

She shook her head but didn’t argue. She was starting to like roasted garlic on everything now—not that she’d ever tell Theo that.

But when he reached for his pizza, she pushed his plate to the other side of the coffee table.

“Why is that shirt still on? You can’t eat pizza wearing that. You’ll get grease all over it!”

He blushed and dropped his hands to his knees.

“Oh. I’ve never been here before; I didn’t want to act like I could just walk into your house and start throwing my clothes off.”

Maddie started to roll her eyes, and then she realized he was serious. That was unexpectedly charming.

“Theo. I’ve walked into your house and thrown my clothes off numerous times. It’s your turn to return the favor.”

He grinned and unbuttoned his shirt.

“Well, if you put it that way.”

She waited until he’d taken off the shirt and carefully draped it over the back of the couch.

“Plus, I love that shirt. It would be a travesty for it to get ruined by my favorite pizza toppings.”

He looked down at his pale blue T-shirt and then back up at her with an injured look on his face.

“What, you don’t like my T-shirt? You don’t care if I get pepperoni grease all over it? Its feelings are hurt.”

She pushed his plate closer to him and he picked up his pizza.

“It’s going to have to get over those hurt feelings. Or it can choose to make you drape a bunch of napkins over it before you eat. The shirt can call me a snob all it wants, but it’s from Target, and your other shirt is Paul Smith. I know which one is easier to buy again.”

He put his arm around her and leaned back against the couch, pulling her with him.

“I got it on sale. A city salary doesn’t usually extend to Paul Smith. I was going to ask how you knew where my shirts come from, but then I realized it’s your job to know. Though I’m impressed that you know men’s brands, too.”

She relaxed against his chest. Even though she’d been freaked out when he’d called, it was sort of nice to have him here on her couch, for once. Just as long as he didn’t open any drawers. God only knew what would fly out at him.

“Only some of them, but I’m learning more. I have some clients who have more of a masculine style of dressing, so I’ve been trying to learn a lot more about menswear over the past few years. I’ve found them some great stuff.”

He reached for the glass of wine she’d poured him and took a big swallow.

“That’s awesome. Do you ever think you’ll start to work with men, too? I bet lots of men around here could use you; you know what terrible dressers they are.”

Maddie never would have guessed a year ago that the Theo who thought she couldn’t rub two brain cells together would be sitting here on her couch giving her compliments. Or that she’d be sitting next to him, in the circle of his arm, pouring him more wine. Maddie of a year ago—hell, Maddie of a few months ago—would die laughing if someone told her this.

Alexa of present day would simply die if someone told her this. Maddie wished she could tell Alexa just to see the look on her face.

She wasn’t going to. But still.

“Oh, plenty of men around here need to hire me—that part is true. But I’m still trying to really establish myself. I don’t want to dilute my brand too much in the beginning. Plus, I don’t like to do something unless I can really throw myself into it; I would need to know a lot more about menswear to start that. And also, I really like working with women . . . I’m not sure the same would be true for men.”

He laughed and pushed the hair away from her face.

“You’re probably right about that.”

He inhaled a second piece of pizza and flopped back against the couch.

“You want another slice?” she asked.

He shook his head.

“In a minute, but please, don’t get up and get it for me. I barged in on you here tonight. I refuse to let you keep being so nice to me.”

She shrugged.

“I heard you had a bad day, so I thought you deserved a little something, but don’t worry, I won’t let it happen again.”

He narrowed his eyes at her.

“What do you mean, you heard I had a bad day? Outside of what I told you, you mean?” She looked down at her pizza. Shit, he wasn’t supposed to know she already knew about that. “Oh Lord, you heard about the Twitter thing? You don’t even pay attention to local politics. If you heard about it, the entire world must have!” He dropped his head into his hands.