When I walked back into my house, still residually happy from ten minutes ago, I saw Tim at the table with a box of pizza in front of him.
“Hey,” I said, flopping down on the chair and folding my legs underneath me. “What type did you get?”
“Hawaiian,” he said, giving me a smile. “I know it’s your favorite.”
“Thanks,” I said, putting the two bags on the table, taking a slice, and digging in enthusiastically.
“You went to the bakery?” Tim asked, confused.
I nodded, shrugging a little. “Mom s