Chapter 150: Fresh Pasta and Cheese

Fresh pasta and cheese smells waft their way from the counter where Ryland piles food on our plates. The red and white striped banners in front of Tony's Pasta Palace are so close, less than a fifteen-minute walk from our building, but we do not eat there enough.

He's in jeans today and has been since we went to Vegas. His ass looks nice in the fitted dark wash denim, better than the loose workout pants or basketball shorts he wears the most. A simple grey long sleeve t-shirt stretches at his shoulders. Ryland's back side is a great view to have.

"What's the Internet saying about us today?" Ryland slides a plate across the countertop to where I sit, waiting to be fed.

I push the side button turning my phone screen black and tuck it back in my pocket. "Nothing." His fork stops midway to his mouth. Busted. With a sigh I answer, "I'm still a gold digger you married in a drunken night in Vegas. Your latest stunt in a career of mistakes fed by wild nights and alcohol."