And what Oliver was asking her to do? Turn Pasha in? The idea was still unthinkable to her. So she thought about other things.
I want a shot at something real with you, Zoe.
Yeah, she could think about that for hours. But Tessa texted that she and Jocelyn were still at Lacey’s house, drawing Zoe like a magnet to her three best friends. As always, she’d have to hold some truths back from them, but even still, she could count on their friendship to make her feel better.
Plus, she wanted to hold that baby again. God, she was as bad as Tessa with the babies now.
Did “something real” include a baby? A life together? A home? She didn’t know. The only thing she did know was that it would include a betrayal she wasn’t sure she could make.
She took the back route along the gardens and ended up on Lacey’s pool patio, where she found Jocelyn and Tessa nursing wine and Lacey nursing something a little bit cuter.
“And then there were five,” she teased as she pulled open the screen door to join them poolside.
“Excuse me, this is my second child,” Lacey said. “So that makes six.”
“Yeah, but Ashley doesn’t drink with us. Yet.” At the outdoor bar, Zoe grabbed a plastic stemmed glass and poured a liberal amount of Chardonnay. “Where is my goddaughter? Is she getting enough attention with the new baby?”
“I hope so. She went with Clay and Will to get us Mexican from the SOB,” Tessa said. “Where have you been all day?”
“Selling real estate.” She dropped onto an empty chaise and raised her glass to Lacey, who was curled up on her own chaise, her breast and babe covered by a pale blue blanket. “You’re welcome, Mrs. Walker. Casa Blanca has its first long-term tenant in Bay Laurel.”
Lacey smiled in gratitude. “We’re over the moon about this rental, Zoe. This is huge for us.”
“And how do you feel about it?” Tessa asked, sneaking a look at Jocelyn that practically screamed that they’d all been talking about her.
“Like I should get a commission.” Zoe took a deep sip. “And the courtesy of not being gossiped about by my closest friends.”
“We’re not gossiping,” Jocelyn assured her. “We’re discussing your relationship with the newest guest.”
“Who happens to be quite nice looking,” Lacey said, cringing as she adjusted the infant. “I remember this being easier with Ashley.”
“You were twenty-two,” Zoe said. “Everything’s easier then. Did you all lay bets on whether or not we kissed?”
“Five to one you kissed,” Tessa shot back.
“Ten to one your bathing suit came off,” Jocelyn added.
“I went all in for the whole enchilada.” Lacey grinned. “And I don’t mean the one I ordered from South of the Border.”
Zoe rolled her eyes but didn’t quench their pathetic curiosity.
“Zoe,” Tessa said, her voice weary with frustration. “You know we hate secrets.”
“You hate them, Tessa. The rest of us deal with them as part of life. Right?” She looked at the other two women, but Lacey peeked under the blanket and Jocelyn was suddenly interested in her wineglass. “Okay, let’s get this over with, then. Start the inquisition.”
Tessa dove right in, of course. “You know Dr. Oliver Bradbury.”
“Define know.”
“In the biblical sense,” Tessa added.
Zoe almost spewed her wine. “You didn’t really just say that.”
“C’mon, Zoe, talk to us,” Jocelyn said. “We know he’s the guy that freaked you out that day at the Ritz.”
Lacey leaned forward, her jaw opened. “The one who came in when you and I were buying me condoms.”
“That you clearly forgot to use.” Zoe pointed at the baby, then lifted her glass. “He was a stupid flash in my past, okay. I knew him years ago in Chicago for a couple of weeks. He’s not a secret as much as a mistake, which you’ve all made.” She took a sip, looking over the glass at three disbelieving faces.
“Oh, you haven’t?” she demanded. “Jocelyn, the Alabama game, that’s all I’m going to say.” She put her finger in her mouth and fake-puked. “Lacey, I believe his name was David Fox and you have a lovely sixteen year-old daughter to remember him by.”
Lacey shrugged. “Best mistake I ever made.”
“And Tessa…” She dug into her memory for some misdemeanor, but Tessa hadn’t committed a lot of them. “Surely you ate a burger and mainlined Splenda in a moment of unorganic weakness.”
“Never.” Tessa smiled. “Okay, once during finals. Stop trying to deflect with humor, Zoe. Spill the doctor dirt.”
“There’s nothing to spill.” At Tessa’s furious and unforgiving look, Zoe sighed. “It all happened a long time and a lot of men ago, okay? He doesn’t matter except he’s a paying guest of Casa Blanca and that’s a good thing. Right, Lace?”
She looked up from the blanket. “Jocelyn said he was with his wife at the grand opening. Did you know he’s married?”
“Not anymore, he’s not.”
“Was he married when you ‘knew’ him?” Lacey asked, the tiniest bit of accusation in her voice. Tiny, but as sharp as glass and straight to the heart.
“No.” Zoe closed her eyes and swallowed hard. “But thanks for the vote of confidence, my friend.”
Lacey looked suitably miserable for asking. “Sorry. Baby hormones.”
“We’re just trying to figure out what happened,” Tessa added.
“Why?” Zoe spun on her, all the forgiveness she was ready to shower on Lacey gone. “Why doesn’t ‘we dated, had mind-blowing sex, and broke up’ cut it for you, Tessa? Why do you have to know every soul-crushing, heartbreaking, dream-dying detail?”
Lacey pushed herself up slowly. “I’m taking Elijah inside.”
“Oh, Lace, I’m sorry,” Zoe said, putting her glass on the table to stand. “I didn’t mean to lose my temper in front of the baby. Or any of you.”
“Only me,” Tessa said softly.
“Yeah, you.” Zoe gave her a smile she had to fight to find. “We live to antagonize one another, remember?”
Still holding the baby in one arm, Lacey laid her free hand on Zoe’s cheek. “Honey, we don’t antagonize. We don’t argue. And we don’t want to pry. We want to help you.”
Zoe closed her eyes, a whirlwind of emotion fluttering through her chest. Love, longing, friendship, and, damn it, the burning need to hang out without worrying about revealing everything. But mostly she wanted to respect Lacey, her home, and her newborn.
She nodded and stayed quiet while Lacey went inside, then plopped down again, directing her attention to Jocelyn. “You had a secret,” she reminded her. “We didn’t pry it out of you.”
“I felt better after I shared,” she said.
“Closer to us and happy to be honest,” Tessa added, getting up from her chair to join Zoe on the chaise. “Don’t hate me for wanting to help you.”
Zoe fought the instinct to shake off Tessa’s arm. “What happened that makes you think I need help? I saw an ex. He has a sweet son and now he’s going to be a guest at the resort. What’s the big deal?”
“Your face,” Tessa said. “The way you look at him and the way he looks at you. And Pasha acted kind of weird, too.”
Lacey returned, babyless this time, buttoning her top while looking at Zoe. “He came to see you, you know. His son let it slip to Clay.”
“He came to see Elijah.” But she knew that wasn’t true.
“But you weren’t surprised to see him,” Tessa said.
Zoe speared her with a look. “You really should have been a lawyer.”
Tessa didn’t take the bait but rubbed Zoe’s arm with love and patience. “He’s more than just an ex, isn’t he? He was important in your life.”
How could she fight Tessa the Tsunami? “More than you know,” Zoe finally whispered. The ache to say more twisted inside her, the need to know the bliss of pure, open honesty as powerful as any of the needs she’d been battling for a few
days.
But she had never been allowed that privilege in her life.
While they were all quiet, Zoe took a sip of wine, considering how much she could tell them. Certainly it wouldn’t hurt to share the news about Pasha being sick. That wouldn’t break any promises, would it?
“The fact is, I went to see him first, the morning after the baby was born.” She rubbed some condensation off the glass, not looking up. “He’s an oncologist.”
The word took a moment to sink in, then she got a chorus of two gasps and one “Oh my God.”
“Not me,” she said quickly. “No, I’m fine. It’s Pasha.”
“Oh, no.” Tessa’s chest sank like she’d been sucker-punched. “I’ve noticed how weak she seems. I thought it was old age.”
Zoe dragged her curls off her face, the sense of relief palpable in her chest. Was it always this good to share secrets? “She’s really sick. We got a quasi-diagnosis in Arizona and I talked to Oliver, who more or less thinks she might have esophageal cancer.”
“More or less?” Jocelyn asked. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know. We’re going to find out. He’s going to see her,” she said. “If she’ll let him.”
“Why wouldn’t she?” Lacey and Tessa asked the question at the same time.
“Because…” She lifted the glass to her lips to buy time, but then realized that the wine would only make her more talkative, so she put it down. She was walking a very fine line with what she could reveal. “He broke my heart, as you’ve all probably figured out by now, so he’s on her shit list.”
And that was true enough.
“If he won’t work, we’ll find another oncologist,” Lacey said. “In fact, I can make some calls now. I know some people in town who’ve been through chemo.”
“No, no.” Shit, now it was going to get tricky. “She…doesn’t have insurance.” Again, not a lie.
Jocelyn waved her hand. “We’ll pool funds, Zoe. Did she have a doctor to refer her—”
“She doesn’t want to see a doctor.”
“If she has cancer?” Tessa was incredulous.
“Tessa, she will not see a doctor.” At least not one who will make her fill out paperwork and have a legit Social Security card. “She’s…terrified of them.”
“What if she got a sign that she had to see a doctor?” Tessa asked. “You know how she responds to messages from the universe and nature.”
“Like that pain in her chest and the doctor in Sedona using the C word isn’t enough of a sign?” Still, Zoe appreciated the idea.
“We have to come up with a solution,” Jocelyn said.
“This is not an insurmountable problem,” Lacey agreed.
“As long as you’re being completely open with us.” Tessa gave Zoe’s arm a slight poke. “And you are, aren’t you?”
For several heartbeats Zoe stayed silent, a dozen different smart-ass quips threatening but not actually coming forth. It would be so easy to joke. To straight-arm her friends, who only wanted to help. To make sure that wall she’d started building at ten years old stayed nice and high and impenetrable.
She smiled at Tessa, only because, damn, the woman had tried for years to take that wall down. Really tried. And Zoe just shot sarcasm arrows at her year after year.
Her heart wobbled a little when she realized that Tessa loved her so completely that she took those arrows every time.
“Tess,” she said softly, her voice cracking and her pulse ridiculously high. “If I told you that the truth could do more damage to Pasha than cancer, ending her life faster than any illness, would you let this one secret go?”
Tessa swallowed hard, obviously surprised by Zoe’s response. “Okay, Zoe, you win.”
When Tessa leaned over to hug, Zoe put her face in Tessa’s shoulder and bit back completely unexpected tears. She might share a little and show a touch of vulnerability, but, damn it, she wasn’t going to cry.
“Hola!” Ashley’s voice called out from the kitchen. “SOB delivery is here.” Carrying a large plastic bag, Lacey’s daughter came out onto the patio, her fresh face and huge smile a balm to Zoe’s heart. “Aunt Zoe! We thought you’d be out on a date with the hot doc.”
Zoe shook her head, laughing. “Et tu, Brutus?”
Ashley squished her pretty face. “Does not compute.”
Tessa pushed up from her chair to snag the bag. “It means we’ve been too rough on Aunt Zoe. And you better have remembered the whole-wheat tortilla and not let the beef touch anything I eat.”
Zoe and Ashley shared an eye-roll, but Zoe appreciated Tessa’s defense.
Will and Clay joined them on the patio, each of them drawn to the women they loved, pairing up naturally while they greeted Zoe. Tessa disappeared with Ashley into the kitchen.
Clay nudged onto the chaise with Lacey, whispering something about the baby, then smiling at her as they shared secret communication. And Will pulled Jocelyn from her chair, sat in it, and tugged her back onto his lap, giving her a not-so-secret kiss.
For one suspended second, Zoe felt utterly alone.
I want a shot at something real with you.
During that one moment of loneliness, the price she’d have to pay to have that shot—which might cost her Pasha—almost seemed reasonable. Almost.
If only there could be another way.
Chapter Seven
A soft ding pulled Zoe out of a dream about flying. She was up in a hot air balloon, way over the ocean, looking down at two people dancing on the sand. They were singing and laughing—
No, that wasn’t laughter. That was the phone.
Damn it, only Tessa would text this early. Zoe stuck her hand out from under the sheet and patted the nightstand for her phone. Who else would text at the crack of dawn, probably looking for composting assistance or something equally riveting on a Saturday morning?
She managed to open one eye, blinded by streaming mid-morning sun. Okay, maybe not the actual crack of dawn. More like the gap of ten-thirty.
From the kitchen, a dish clattered and water ran, reminding her that she had to tell Pasha today. Pasha had been drowsy and disinterested last night when Zoe came home from Lacey’s, but there could be no more procrastination. Maybe Zoe should hide the panic bag beforehand so Pasha couldn’t convince her to run away.
Touching the phone screen, she squinted at the sender’s name.
Oliver Bradbury.
An unnatural zing woke up every sleepy cell.
Her finger lingered over the screen, not quite ready to read what he’d texted.
Their good-bye had been quiet, like neither one wanted to talk about what could happen next. But she had to find out. Would he see Pasha soon? Did he really expect Zoe to go hunting down a lawyer to lay history to rest?
If Zoe even did that—the idea was still filed firmly under “unimaginable” in her head—it would be the ugliest betrayal she could imagine. But if she didn’t, would Zoe ever have a chance for a relatively normal life?
Normal life now being a euphemism for “life with Oliver.”
But he’d put a stipulation on it. He’d made it conditional. Conditional love—well, that was an oxymoron. Zoe wanted unconditional, balls-to-the-wall, no strings, no demands, no compromises, no betraying loved ones who’d given up everything for her.
Not that she believed for one second such an animal even existed, at least not one she knew how to hunt and bag.
“Are you awake, Zoe?” Pasha called from the hall.
“Out in a sec, Aunt P.” She tapped the screen to read his text.
Moving in today. Meet us at the villa around noon?
With Pasha? Without? Did she have to show proof of a lawyer’s bill before he’d help her? Or did he want her to come over and watch Evan while he got them settled in?
Throwing the covers back, she climbed out of bed, wishing she had a plan.
You hate plans, Zoe.
Yes, she did. Because it was so much easier to live in the moment and g
o with the flow and roll with the punches and dig for meaningless clichés that described her inability to make a commitment.
You wouldn’t know how to handle a commitment if it bit you.
“Oh, shut up, will you?”
Pasha tapped lightly on her door. “Are you alone, honey?”
She blew out a breath and turned it into a laugh. “Only me and these male strippers I picked up at the Toasted Pelican. Come on, you guys, scram. Out the window.” She opened the door. “Of course I’m al—” She didn’t even finish, frowning at the ratty housecoat, flat hair, and washed-out face. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Nothing? It didn’t matter the day or time; Pasha Tamarin always drew in eyebrows, lined her lids with some kohl, and gelled her two-inch silver locks into a gravity-defying spike style. The woman didn’t leave her room without a couple of pounds of silver and turquoise jewelry, and a blindingly bright muumuu draped over her narrow frame.
Not today.
Zoe frowned at her. “Why are you…” She gestured to the robe.
“Just feeling a little punk.”
Oh, God. Zoe stepped into the hall, putting a hand on Pasha’s shoulder to lead her toward the kitchen. It was time.
But she needed coffee to drop this bomb, and Pasha brewed it for Zoe every morning. Judging by the smell, today was no different.
Only it would be different in a few minutes because Zoe was about to break the news.
We got a doctor. And we’re getting a lawyer.
Her heart tumbled down to the bottom of her stomach, landing with a thud. But this wasn’t about how Zoe felt, and she had to remember that.
“Is it your chest ?” Zoe asked. “Or your throat?”
Pasha waved a hand as if to say it was nothing, but her pained expression screamed that it was most definitely not nothing.
“You’re getting worse, aren’t you?”
“I’m getting old,” Pasha replied, letting herself be guided to a ladder-back chair at the little table, where the daily newspaper was still open, an empty teacup next to it. “And worse,” she admitted softly.
Zoe turned to get a cup and pour some coffee, rooting around for the right words, the right way to start the conversation.
Barefoot in the Sun Page 10
