“What?”
“From your interview. I’ll pick you up.” Her confusion would be cute if it wasn’t frustrating as all hell.
“Why . . . Why would you . . . ?”
“Because you’re mine and I take care of what’s mine.”
I swear it feels like I’m talking to a wall.
It’s like as soon as we hit the very corner of New Jersey, the safe, picture-perfect version of Zoe snapped back into place.
A tiny part I refuse to acknowledge is terrified that now that we’re home, there won’t be any way to break back in.
To convince her to make pretend real.
Shit.
“I don’t need you to.” Her shoulders straighten and I see her now: the version who feels the need to do everything, to impress everyone. The uptight version who wears her hair in tight ponytails and wears tops buttoned up to her collarbone.
“I want to,” I say softly, grabbing her hand. She sighs.
That sigh cuts me, the exasperation in it.
“Zander, you don’t have to.”
“Zoe—”
“This has been fun, Zee. Really. But I need to . . . focus.”
Focus.
And not on figuring out what us looks like, I’m sure.
I let a long beat go by before I speak.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying . . . I’m saying you don’t have to pick me up. I can drive myself. I can . . . I can do it without you.” She sighs and my gut drops.
“Zoe.”
“I need time.”
Another shift that feels detrimental to everything we built.
“Time.” The word feels heavy on my lips.
“Time. Time to process.” Her hand moves between us. “This. Us.”
“So you’re saying there’s an us?”
I smile, hope filling me.
There it is.
No matter what Zoe says, no matter what she thinks she needs or what she thinks she wants, there’s a fucking us.
I just need to be patient.
I need to convince her.
“I’m saying I am so incredibly confused and being in a car with you isn’t helping. Being isolated with you isn’t helping. I need a dose of reality. I need to be in the real world, remember that there is more than just road trips and playing pretend.”
“Zoe—”
“I can’t just go off and start my life over. I have bills. I have student loans. I have nowhere to live. I have no job! You want me to drop everything and, what? Stay in Springbrook Hills?”
“I want you to give us a chance. Isn’t that what you want? To give this a try? After all this time, you don’t think it’s finally time to give us a shot?”
“What if that’s not enough? It’s not that simple, Zander.”
“Is it. It really fucking is,” I say as frustration burns in my gut.
I don’t know why I’m getting frustrated, really.
I knew that it was going to happen.
I knew she wouldn’t go easy—hell, I love that about her. Her spirit, how fucking headstrong she is.
But I’d be lying if a small part of me hadn’t hoped she’d just . . . work with me to figure it out.
I can’t push her. I can’t scare her off.
“Zander, this is—”
“Look, we’ll talk about it after your interview,” I say, leaning over and pushing a lock of her hair behind her ear.
“I might not be in town after this interview, Zee. If I take the job, I’ll need to start looking for a new place in the city as soon as possible. I—” My hands go to her cheeks.
“Shh. Stop. We’ll talk about it. If I need to drive to New York every night to sleep in your bed, we’ll figure it out.” Her eyes go soft with my words.
Hope.
The look gives me all the hope I need.
“Zander.”
“Pretend.”
“This is real life, Zee.” Her words are soft and pained.
“Pretend, pip. At least until tonight when we can talk. I’ll pick you up after your interview.” She stares at me and then it happens.
She shakes her head.
“No.”
“No?”
“No. I need time. I need to think.”
“Seriously, Zoe?”
“We’ve spent every moment together for seven days. Give me some space.”
“So that’s what you need. Space?” I ask, staring at her.
She nods.
“That’s what I need.”
I have no choice.
Not really.
I know to my bones that if I push, that could mean the end before it starts.
My stubborn fucking girl.
So I nod.
“Okay. I’ll give you space.”
And then I hop out of her car, grabbing her bags and walking them to her front door.
“Zander—”
“You won’t let me take you to your interview. Won’t let me pick you up after. Please, pip. Let me bring your bags inside.” She bites her lip, looking me over like she’s unsure if she should give me that before she nods.
And when I dump them in her childhood room, seeing that her parents haven’t changed any of it since high school, I smile.
“Gonna go,” I say, standing in the purple room with her.
She bites her lip and nods.
My girl.
Suffering. I hate it. I hate that she’s fighting herself, fighting her own desires and what she really, truly wants in order to fit some mold no one expects her to live in.
My work is clear.
Some men would see that as a negative: having to help a grown woman figure out who she is, figure out how to live life for her.
Some men would use that to their advantage, take what they perceive as a weakness and manipulate it until she shifts her priorities to live her life for him.
But not me.
I can’t wait to spend a lifetime making sure that Zoe lives life for Zoe. That each and every thing she does fuels her soul, brings her all-consuming joy.
And to be a part of that.
So I step to her, grabbing one of her hands, twining the fingers with mine, and closing the gap until our hands are pressed between us, then I put the other one on her cheek.
“I’ll be here when you’re ready, Zo. Okay?” I ask, then I squeeze her hand three times.
“Zander—”
“No. I’ll be here when you’re ready. That’s it.” She sighs, and before she can speak again, I press my lips to hers.
A quick, gentle kiss.
Nothing crazy.
Just a reminder.
Of who I am.
Of who she is.
Of who we are.
And then I step back.
“Call me after your interview, yeah?”
She stares at me and somehow, I know.
She’s not planning to call me.
So when she nods, she’s lying.
“Yeah, Zee.”
I stare at her for a few more moments before nodding.
“Bye, pip.”
And then I turn, letting myself out of her parents’ house and going to the only place I can think of to get the help I desperately need.
FORTY-FOUR
BYE, BYE, BABY
-ZANDER-