That's (Not Exactly) Amore by Tracey Bateman

perfumes—combine to assault my already churning stomach. My head isn’t doing great either, and by the time I reach my stop I’m really hurting.
    Home is the only thing on my mind until I realize how badly I really do need that cheesecake. Migraine and all. I turn and walk the block to Nick’s. Glancing at my watch, I realize it’s dangerously close to time for Joe to lock up, but again, it’s worth the risk for that cheesecake. At times like this I desperately miss my friends. Normally, I’d grab a whole cheesecake, bring it home, and we’d sit around the kitchen table talking about my wretched day. Or the last two wretched hours anyway.
    Joe is just at the door with the key when I show up. I feel like a puppy pressing my nose to the glass when he spots me.
    His eyebrows shoot up in question and he unlocks the door.
    “What are you doing out alone after dark?”
    “I have class on Monday night. I thought you knew that.”
    “Nope. Didn’t know. You sure it’s a good idea for you to be walking alone this time of night?”
    “My train stops only a couple of blocks from the apart-ment.”
    He ushers me in and locks the door behind us. “Well, I don’t think it’s a good idea. It’s dangerous out there.”
    I shrug, eyeing the cheesecake he has yet to take out of the glass case and put away for the night. “A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do, Joe. And that’s the only time my class is offered.”
    He grunts. “Sit down and I’ll get you some of that.”
    “Some of what?” There are at least six different desserts in that case.
    “Please, you don’t think I know what you like?”
    I grin. Already my headache is easing up. “Prove it.”
    He grins back. “Go sit down and I will.”
    “You sure you don’t mind? I know you’re probably ready to get out of here.”
    “It’s okay. I can’t leave ’til Brandon finishes cleaning up in the back.”
    I wait, my head aching, while he goes back to the kitchen. He returns soon and slides a cake plate onto the table in front of me. “Cheesecake with raspberry swirl. A dollop of whipped cream on top.”
    “Bravo!”
    “Here. I got you some milk too. And a couple of aspirin. Your eyes look like you got a headache.”
    His warm hand presses against mine as he hands me the aspirin. Gratefully, I swallow them down with a swig of creamy milk. “Thanks, Joe. You’re a lifesaver.”
    He pulls a chair around and sits. “So, you want to talk about it?”
    I slip a bite of cheesecake into my mouth. “I got a D on my test.”
    “That’s not so good.” He eyes my cake.
    “Tell me about it. I’m a terrible test taker. I think I have about the lowest grade point average you can possibly have and still be considered a student in good standing.” I shrug. “I think I really might be color blind.” Blinking back tears, I meet his sympathetic gaze. “How can an interior designer be color blind?”
    “Maybe you’re not. Maybe you just need to do eye exercises.”
    I stop. Stare. “What, you mean like build up my color sensory muscles?” The thought strikes me as funny and I grin.
    “Hey, go ahead and laugh. I was just trying to help.” His gaze wanders to my cheesecake.
    I shove the plate toward him. “Here, have a bite.”
    “Thanks. I haven’t had time to eat all day.”
    I make a mental note to add an extra cinnamon roll in the morning and make sure he gets it.
    “That’s not so good,” I say, mimicking his comment about my grade. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”
    “Now you sound like my nana.”
    “Smart woman.”
    He snorts. “If she’s so smart, how come she’s pushing me to marry Nancy?”
    My stomach lurches from the combination of cheesecake, milk, aspirin, and the image of Nancy in a bridal gown. I make a run for the bathroom and lose the entire contents of my stomach.
    Ten minutes later, I rinse out my mouth and stare into the mirror. I’m such a pathetic loser. How can I possibly go back to the dining