11
Melissa paced Ida’s living room as her friend sprinkled cheese on a large, circular dough weighed down with pepperoni, sweet pepper, and onions.
The scent of fried sausages lingered in the air and the sound of a cartoon dinosaur singing about popping bubbles blasted from the television in the living room.
Ida glanced at her friend and smiled softly. Melissa hadn’t gotten this worked up over a man in ages.
“He’ll be fine,” Ida said as she shoved the pizza into the oven.
“You said that already.”
“And yet you’re still wearing a path on the floor.”
“I’m sorry.” Melissa took a seat around the small kitchen table. “I’m really nervous.”
“Nervous about what?” Mateo strode into the room.
“Melissa’s client went on a date tonight,” Ida explained.
“Oh.” Mateo grabbed a soda from the fridg
