“Probably,” she says with a smile, and I move again, rolling until she’s on top of me.
I love this.
I love how easy it is.
How we just work.
We were always meant to work.
I know if we have a dinner date and I call her to tell her I picked up an extra shift to help out one of the guys, she’d be fine.
That, I can say, I’ve never had. Someone who gets me and gets my job and doesn’t take personal offense to the long or strange hours.
And with her, my future looks so damn bright.
“You know the best part of being with you?” I ask, and she blinks at me, her eyes sleepy now. I roll one last time until we’re both on our sides.
“What’s that?” she asks with a yawn.
“You’re with me knowing me and that you’ll be living with this shit for the rest of your life.” Her brow furrows. “I’ve had women, Zoe. None of them would ever get that about me. They couldn’t stand the night shifts and the early mornings and then coaching the Bulldogs. Family dinners and breakfast at the diner. Drove them all crazy.”
“Well,” she says with a pause, her little brow furrowing, and I can’t help but press my lips there. “They were dumb to give up on you.”
And it’s then I know that even though the next few days will be an uphill climb, I’ve got Zoe Thomas.
FORTY-THREE
TREACHEROUS
-ZANDER-
“Welcome to New Jersey,” I say, looking at the sign as I drive past it and with my words, it’s like a cloud fills the car.
“Welcome to New Jersey,” Zoe says, her voice low and sad.
A million responses run through my mind, but I don’t speak.
The trip is almost over, but I know we have a full mountain to run up before she’s comfortable with this.
With us.
I still have a lot of convincing to do.
That’s fine.
I will happily spend my entire lifetime convincing Zoe Ann Thomas to give us a chance.
Instead of speaking, I grab her hand, so much smaller than mine, nails tipped in pretty pink—a symbol, in my mind, of how far she’s come from her comfort zone—and lift, pressing it to my lips.
And then I squeeze her hand, the same calming cadence, the same reliable way.
One, two, three.
In my mind, it’s all three versions of her.
One hand squeeze for the little girl who would chat with me at midnight.
She taught me that it’s the smallest moments that will stick with you.
One for the girl who turned me down, who wasn’t ready for us.
She taught me to be patient, that waiting for what I wanted would make it all the sweeter.
And one for the woman who took a leap of faith and drove around while I tried to convince her to fall for me.
She taught me that you’re never too old to play pretend.
She tries to tug her hand away, but I hold tighter, keeping it on my lap.
“Stop,” she says under her breath, tugging once more.
I let her go.
“Zoe—”
“We can’t play pretend forever, Zander.” My brows furrow as I keep my eyes on the road, confused.
“Why not?”
“That’s not how life works,” she says with an irritated sigh.
“Says who?” Zoe scoffs like I’m being stupid.
Doesn’t she see the only thing stopping us is her stubbornness?
“Says . . . everyone.”
“I think you’re just scared,” I say, my voice low.
I haven’t straight out accused her of anything yet, except for right now.
This moment.
And I’m not sure why I’m shocked when she doesn’t answer.
An hour later, we’re stopped outside her parents’ house, parked behind my car.
The trip is over.
My gut sinks with that knowledge.
“We’re home,” she says.
“We’re home,” I agree. I look at her and see her eyes are looking out of the windshield, avoiding mine.
A long minute passes before she speaks again, still not moving to look at me.
“What now?”
“What now?” I parrot, confused. Finally, she looks at me.
“Yeah, Zee. What now?”
“Well, now we unpack your shit, get you ready for your interview. Then we figure out how to move forward with whatever you choose.”
“We?” she asks, her voice low and unsure.
My brow furrows because I don’t understand how she doesn’t get it.
I thought we were past this, thought we had an understanding.
“Well, yeah. You’re mine, Zo.” She sighs and it feels like the sound fills the car, ricocheting around.
“That won’t . . . That doesn’t . . .” She’s not even forming a full thought, but I need to end it.
I can figure out where it’s headed.
“The fuck it doesn’t.” Her face goes soft, almost with pity, and my stomach churns.
“Zander, be for real—”
“I spent my entire life watching you grow up. Spent the last twelve years watching you jump from asshole to asshole—” She takes that chance to cut me off.
“To be fair, you jumped from girl to girl just as well.” I roll my eyes at her, even though she’s not wrong.
I’m just frustrated.
The image in my mind made this easy. We’d get back and we’d figure it out and it might not have been sunshine and daisies, but it would be fine.
Simple.
At the end of the day, I know to my bones that Zoe is my person.
“Yeah, well, whenever I was single, you were happy with some douche. Whatever. Now you’re mine.”
“This makes no—”
“Stop.” I sigh, trying to make sense of things in my mind.
To make a new plan.
“Look. You have your interview in two hours. Let’s get you through that without any issues and then we can figure it out.”
We have a lifetime.
“Okay,” she says, and the word sounds fake.
Like what you tell someone when they say you should get together sometime and you agree, knowing damn well you’ll never actually make it happen.
“Where are you having your interview?” I ask.
“What?”
“Your interview. You’re not going to the city, right? It’s video?”
“Oh. Yeah.”
“So where are you having it, pip? Here?” I tip my chin to her parents’ house.
She shakes her head.
“At Rise and Grind.” Sadie’s coffee shop has coworking booths where she could easily have a professional call with privacy. It makes sense, when compared to her childhood bedroom with her mother standing at the door, trying to eavesdrop.
“When will it be over?”
That’s what happens next.
I need to take this one step at a time. I need to be rational.
First, the interview.
Then, we talk.
“They blocked my calendar off for two hours.”
“Two hours? Jesus.” I shake my head, not being able to wrap it around sitting at a computer screen for two hours straight, talking to a stranger. “Well, I’ll pick you up after.”