Sealed with a kiss (WomanxWoman)

20

"Something's wrong," I murmur to myself as I gather my things, ready to leave work and turn off the lights, just as Charlotte asked. The look she gave me when she left - that cold, distant look - it wasn't like her. She hurried out so quickly, without even a goodbye. The way she walked away felt so final, and yet I don't know why.

We were fine this morning. Just this morning, we'd stolen a few quiet moments together in her car, sneaking kisses, whispering sweet, silly things to each other like teenagers. She had smiled at me then, her eyes soft and full of warmth, the way they always are when she looks at me. So, what changed?

Did I do something wrong? A dark worry takes root, and I feel my stomach twist. Maybe she had time to think about our relationship. Maybe it scared her, and she's getting cold feet. What if she's decided I'm not worth it after all? That she doesn't want this, doesn't want me?

"Stop it, Jenny," I tell myself firmly, shaking my head as if I can shake the thoughts away. "Don't go to those dark places just yet." I try to steady my breathing. Maybe she has a good reason, something serious she has to handle. She does have a lot on her mind, managing the entire department, constantly under pressure. It's not personal. I keep trying to convince myself, pushing down the self-doubt before it takes over again.

I take a deep breath and decide I need a distraction. And then it comes to me-the little pizzeria near my apartment. I haven't been there in a while, not since I started spending all my free time with Charlotte. The thought of their hot, comforting pizza helps a bit, so I gather my things, shut off the office lights, and head out.

As I enter the pizzeria, I'm instantly enveloped by the warm, rich aroma of freshly baked dough, melted cheese, and herbs. The familiar scent wraps around me, soothing the anxious thoughts in my mind, if only for a moment. The place itself is cozy and welcoming. Soft, dim lighting bathes the room, casting a gentle glow that fills the space with a sense of warmth and calm.

The rustic decor adds to its charm. The tables, covered in red and white checkered tablecloths, are surrounded by simple, sturdy wooden chairs, each one inviting, like it's just waiting for someone to settle in for a while. The walls are decorated with framed black-and-white photos, old pizza advertisements from another era. There's a nostalgic, almost timeless feeling here, like stepping into a slice of history. Behind a small counter, trays of fresh ingredients are carefully arranged, waiting to be turned into someone's perfect meal. In the back, I can see the brick oven, its orange glow lighting up the area around it, giving the room an added sense of warmth and tradition.

I spot Emily behind the counter, talking to a customer. She sees me as the customer leaves, and a big grin spreads across her face. "Hi, Jen! Long time no see! How have you been?"

I smile back, feeling a bit lighter. "Same old, same old. Busy with work," I reply, trying to sound casual. "But I didn't want you to think I'd forgotten about you... or this wonderful place."

I glance around the empty tables, feeling a pang of sympathy. For a place this good, it deserves to be full, bustling with people. I hesitate, then ask, "Where's your dad?"

Emily's smile fades a bit. "Oh, he's out back, working on the last order. I keep telling him we need to hire a cook, but he insists on doing it all himself. Says we can't afford the extra help."

I frown, glancing around the quiet pizzeria. It's a shame - it really is. This place has so much heart, so much warmth. "I don't get it," I say, more to myself. "This place should be packed every night."

Emily sighs, reading the look on my face. "It's kind of a chicken and egg thing, you know? We need more workers and some advertising, but to do that, we'd need more money. And without extra hands or customers, it's hard to earn enough to make that happen."