Chapter 48: What Peach Is to TartThe Pie Factory was more crowded than I’d expected, but I didn’t mind it so much. Derek and I sat in a booth seat by the window with a view to the large parking lot and snowy highway. This place was half truck stop, half factory, but all heart. We’d discovered it a few years ago during a road trip to Niagara Falls, and had sort of made it our secret getaway place.
“Oh, God,” Derek moaned, leaning back in his seat and finally dropping his fork on the plate. “I shouldn’t have worn these jeans.”
“Yeah, you should have worn jogging pants with an elastic waistband.”
He glanced down at himself. “Did I really eat the whole thing?”
“Absolutely.” I took a sip of my coffee. It was late and I shouldn’t have been having caffeine, but tonight the rules didn’t apply.
