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returns to the floor of her mouth, and her lips squeeze shut.
    Almost fifteen minutes later, the other saleswoman returns with the lighter sweater. She hands it to me and disappears before Luci has a chance to ask for something else.
    I end up buying that sweater, the red one, and the size eight jeans. Marnie rings up my purchase. “So, how much have you lost?” She finally looks at me.
    â€œExcuse me?”
    â€œYour clothes are so big. I assume you need a new wardrobe because you just lost a lot of weight.”

Chapter 10
    I leave the office at seven o’clock on Friday night. It’s pathetic that I’d rather work late than go home to my empty apartment. Only one other car remains in the parking lot, Cooper’s. I look up at his office. His window is lit up while the rest are all dark. As I start my car, Takeout Taxi pulls up next to the curb. I pass the entrance to the building and see the driver carrying a brown bag to the front door. Cooper is there to meet him. I don’t know what gets into me, but I beep. Startled, Cooper looks in my direction. I wave. He smiles and waves back. I drive off feeling a pang of sadness for him eating alone at his desk on a Friday night, but I guess it’s no worse than me eating alone in front of the television.
    I suddenly realize how hungry I am, so I call Salvatore’s, the pizza place around the corner from my apartment. When I arrive to pick up my food, Sal Senior, the restaurant owner, leans against the counter. Like always, he’s wearing a black shirt and bright red tie. His salt-and-pepper hair is slicked back with grease in a style that he’s probably been wearing since the 1950s. If anyone needs help from one of those makeover television programs, it’s this guy. “Gina.” He smiles at me and then turns his head over his shoulder and shouts in Italian to his son, Salvatore Jr., who goes by Tory, “Your girlfriend is here.”
    Tory, dressed in his usual tight jeans and black T-shirt accessorized by a thick gold ropelike chain and matching bracelet, prances to the register. “Your pizza will be a few minutes.” His gray eyes scan me up and down, and he licks his lips as he speaks. I zip my ski jacket higher and hand him a twenty. He punches my order into the register and then looks up and smirks. “For someone who eats so much pizza, you sure look great. Do you work out a lot?”
    Honest to God, I should have made grilled cheese at home. I retreat to a chair near the counter without answering. From where I’m sitting, I can hear Salvatore and Tory talking in Italian. I don’t know why it’s never occurred to them that I speak the language. Everyone always tells me I look Italian.
    â€œWhy don’t you ask her out?” Salvatore asks.
    â€œSomeone as beautiful as her, she must have a boyfriend,” Tory answers.
    I’m wishing I weren’t there and trying not to look at them. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Salvatore swat Tory in the head. He’s still speaking Italian. “What’s the matter with you? Don’t you think? She’s here alone most weekend nights ordering a small pizza. There’s no boyfriend.”
    I kick the floor with my boots and promise myself that I will never come to Salvatore’s alone on the weekend again. Several minutes later, Tory calls my name. “So, umm,” he says, leaning over the counter toward me, “I get off work at nine o’clock. Maybe I could take you for a proper dinner.”
    â€œI have a boyfriend,” I blurt out. Tory pulls the pizza out of my reach. “His name is Ethan.” He stares into my eyes. I can tell he’s trying to figure out if I’m lying. The silence makes me uncomfortable so I keep talking. “I’ll bring him here sometime.”
    This seems to satisfy Tory. He hands me the box. “I’d like to meet him. Make sure he’s good enough for