Autumn: She was up until Mom arrived. Though, I’m sure she’s better now that they’re baking a batch of chocolate chip cookies. I had no idea that there was a tub of cookie dough in my fridge. You’re sneaky.
Zach: Honey, I’m home!
Zach: Where are you?
Zach: I assume you’re at work. Text me when you’re home unless you want me to pick you up.
Autumn: Hey, I just finished my shift. I’ll text you when I arrive at my apartment.
Zach: Are you home yet? It’s been more than an hour since you last texted me.
Zach: Babe, I’m about to drive to your house.
Autumn: Sorry, I was talking to Mom.
Zach: Too late, I’m here. Any chance you can come outside?
Autumn: Wait, you’re here?
Zach: Yep, I was worried. I’m in the parking lot. Can you come downstairs?
Autumn: Sorry, I’m watching a movie with Mom. I don’t want her to think that I’m going out with someone.
Zach: My name is Zachary, not someone.
Autumn: All the same. We agreed to keep this just between us.
Zach: Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow. Text me when I can come by.
Autumn: : kissing heart face emoji:
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Zach
Any other time I’d say that my week was fucking awful. The branch in Portland, Maine, isn’t opening the first week of March as we planned. The pipes burst, the building is not up to code, and we must search for a new retail space. It sets us back, but it’s not important. I was more concerned about Matilda’s health than the coffee shop.
I wish I had been able to fly across the country so that I could be with them. Thankfully, I have my brothers and sister to aid me. We got the family doctor who still does house visits to check on Matilda, and Teddy joined them just to make sure they were fine. Not knowing how she was doing and being far away from them was pure torture. Knowing that they were waiting for me when I got home meant everything to me.
On Saturday, I’m ready to make everything better for Matilda. Myles comes through with his promise. We have a private tour at the San Diego Zoo, and he lends us his jet. Of course, we don’t say anything to Matilda until the doctor says it’s okay to travel. Even when it was just a twenty-four-hour bug, Autumn was reluctant to take her on this trip.
We leave Seattle at five in the morning so we can arrive at the zoo by eight.
“Can I see all the animals?” Matilda’s energy level is too high for five o’clock in the morning. Autumn is nursing the coffee I brought her from home.
“Yes, of course. This is a private tour. My brother explained to me that instead of seeing them from the outside like everyone else, you’d be able to watch from a different place. It’ll be closer but not too close.”
“I want to be a zookeeper or a veterinarian. Can we meet all of them?”
When I turn to look at Autumn, she’s asleep.
“We might be able to meet one or two,” I say. “Why don’t we color in your zoo book?”
Teddy prepared a traveling kit for Matilda since this was her first plane ride. So far, it’s been keeping her entertained. We arrive at the zoo ten minutes before eight. We have not one but two zookeepers answering Matilda’s questions.
“You made her the happiest kid in the world,” Autumn says, kissing my cheek as she watches Matilda thriving. The kid is a sponge, and she loves learning. She reminds me a lot of Autumn when she was young. She was an inquisitive kid who bloomed with knowledge.
Reaching for her hand, I pull her to me. “I just asked for a few favors. You’re raising a happy kid.”
“Some days, I feel like I’m failing miserably.”
I hug her tight. “You’re too harsh on yourself.”
She moves away from me. “You have to keep your distance. She’s going to get the wrong idea.”
I wouldn’t care if Matilda learned that I’m going out with the most amazing woman in the world. It’d be a dream if I could call them mine, but I know it’s just a pipe dream.
Everything in the zoo is exciting. Matilda’s favorite parts are when she gets to be close to the animals. Like when she gets to play with a capuchin monkey safely. We feed lettuce leaves to the giraffes. She gets to pet a baby wallaby. Autumn feeds the wallaby with a baby bottle and special formula. We take a break to eat the lunch that Brandt prepared for us at the café. By two o’clock, we’re spent and ready to fly home.
On our way to the airport, Matilda says, “Mom, can you and Zach have a baby boy so we can name him Patrick? He’ll be either a panda or a platypus.”
I start coughing. Then I laugh because it’s kind of funny, and if it wasn’t for the hot glare I feel coming from Autumn’s side, I’d joke about it. Why not Walter the Wallaby or Sergio the Snake? The wordplay would be spectacular.
“I told you so,” she mumbles.
“You can always have two,” Matilda suggests.
This kid is going to send me to the doghouse. No, wait. She’s going to send me to an underground cell, and Autumn will never let me out to play ever again. This is it; she’s going to dump me.
“I’m not marrying Zach,” Autumn says with a firm voice.
“That’s fine. Can you just have a baby or two? I’ll help you take care of them.”
This would be hilarious, but this kid is digging my grave. Her mom might stop talking to me. Just thinking about the end makes my throat close up, and my lungs deflate. I know it hasn’t been long, but I can’t imagine life without them.
“Instead of talking nonsense, why don’t you thank Zach for the trip?” Autumn’s voice is harsh.
“Thank you, Zach. I really enjoyed the trip and my manatee.”
I look in the rearview mirror and see her hugging the stuffy tightly. That smile, that sense of calm she has, gives me hope. At this point, I’d do anything for her. Everything for them.
“I can’t believe you didn’t have a manatee in your collection, but we fixed the issue.”
“There wasn’t an issue,” Autumn snaps. “And maybe we need to stop ‘fixing’ what’s not broken.”
“She looks happy, babe.”
And isn’t that what matters. Autumn lets out a loud breath.
Okay, I’m not her favorite person right now. I probably made it on her shit list. She needs a break from me, but I just hope it’s temporary. I’m glad I listened to Teddy and kept this as a day trip. My original idea included staying the night in Carlsbad with a romantic dinner at the Presidential Suite of Merkel’s Hotel. My sister says that I should be romantic but with moderation.
She actually sent me a screenshot of the Merriam-Webster Dictionary with the definition of moderation. Matilda asks if she can keep her manatee when we board the plane since the rest of her things are put away for safety.
“Only one stuffy,” Autumn says.
Matilda pouts. “Zach doesn’t like the dark, but my manatee is a baby.”
Autumn gives me a look that says, shut it, or I’m pushing you out of the plane after we take off.
I take a seat and ignore the quarrel between mother and daughter until I hear Autumn say, “Fine, I’ll hold Zach, so he’s not alone.”