She was immediately alarmed. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Zack said quickly. “I just—nothing. Is this a bad time?”
“Hold on, let me tell Robert to watch Max. This sounds serious.”
“It’s not—” But Sarah was already yelling at her husband to come and get Max, turn on a video, she’d be a while. Then he heard a door slam and Sarah’s breathing as she returned to the phone.
“There. All set. Go ahead.”
Zack deeply regretted his impulse to call. “It’s really nothing, Sarah. I had a few extra minutes and thought I’d check in. I had to cut you off the other night.”
“Because of your date.”
The phone fell silent. “Yes,” he said finally.
“I look forward to meeting April.”
Zack closed his eyes. She was so eager for him to find someone else. She had been for a long time.
He poured hot water into his coffee press, “Sarah…”
“I shouldn’t pressure you.” She sounded amused. “It’s just so hard not to. You’re so obviously embarrassed about it.”
“I’m sorry.” His voice was rough.
“Oh, don’t be.”
“You were all so good to me,” he said. “Look, whatever happens, I want you to know how much I appreciated it.”
She paused. “You sound like you’re about to jump off a bridge. What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” Everything. “I was just thinking about you. All of you.”
“Wow, this thing is serious,” she said.
“Thing?”
“With April.”
He held the press down over his coffee, counting the seconds. “It was on my mind before I moved out here. How much I appreciate all of you.”
“Appreciate. There’s that word again. Appreciate for what?”
He took a breath. “You know. Taking me into the family.”
Her voice became impatient. “Of course we took you into the family.”
“You didn’t have to. You barely knew me. Hell, Meg barely knew me.”
“Don’t say that. You know time doesn’t work that way, not when you’re living at the hospital. My God, you were always there. Every morning, every evening. How could we not love you?”
He was grateful, he was, but in his tired moments, he admitted to himself it could be a burden. “It’s been four years, Sarah. I haven’t done anything since then to merit the kind of loyalty your family has shown me. Your dad still refers clients to me. Just last week your mom sent me an email saying she missed me, that I’d been in San Francisco too long. And you… you want me to get married again.”
“Everyone has to grieve in their own way.” Her voice fell. “You’re a piece of Meg. We want you to be happy, like we’d want her to be happy. And we don’t want to let go.”
“I know.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know. But…”
“But what?”
Zack had to say it. If not now, he never would. “It’s a bit much. It has always seemed a little like”—he swallowed over his hesitation—“maybe you were overcompensating.”
“What? I have no idea what you mean.”
“I loved her. No matter what I tell you now, I don’t want you to think I blame her, or that I resent her for anything, because I don’t. I wouldn’t give up a moment that we had together.”
“Of course you loved her,” she said. “But what—”
“She was about to break up with me before she got the diagnosis, wasn’t she?” he asked.
She paused. “No.”
“It’s all right,” he said. “I meant what I said. I understand.”
“She was having doubts about getting married so soon, that’s all. Engaged after only two months.”
“But we weren’t engaged,” he said. “She turned me down.”
“You were living together when she got sick.”
“Yes, but she didn’t want to get married,” he said.
“But I remember her telling us, me and Mom, right before you moved in together. It was Mother’s Day, and we were having brunch at this cute place with mimosas that would knock your socks off at eleven in the morning. She said you’d bought her a ring but you were going to live together for a year before telling anyone else about it.”
“She was lying,” he said, the anger in his voice for himself, not poor Meg. “She wouldn’t commit.”
“What?”
“She was worried about what your mother would think about moving in together so soon.” He poured his coffee into the sink and dumped the grounds into the bin. “She confessed a few days later, when we were buying a shower curtain at Target. We got in a huge fight. She wanted me to play along with her whole family thinking we were getting married, even if she hadn’t made up her mind yet.”
Sarah was silent for a long moment. “She always did care too much what other people thought of her,” she said softly. “Especially Mom.”
“If I hadn’t loved her so much, I would’ve ended it right then.”
A long silence grew. She let out a sigh. “I’m so sorry. She did love you. I’m sure she did.”
They’d rushed the wedding so they’d be full partners when she began treatment, so she’d have more to live for. The pressure to tie the knot “while they still could” had been overwhelming. Not just from him, but from her whole family.
“I think maybe you’re not so sure,” he said. “And neither are your parents. I just want you to know it’s OK. I’m OK.”
“Oh, Zack.” It sounded as if she were crying.
“I think I’d better hang up before I say something else. Give my love to Max.”
“No, wait—”
“Love you too. All of you.” He pressed the button and set the phone on the counter. His shoulders felt lighter, as if strings pulled him to the ceiling.
He’d done it. He’d finally said it out loud. The sympathy for the poor sap who’d loved a little too quickly, too deeply, had finally come to an end. It had nagged at him for years. Now Sarah knew that he knew, and she could tell the rest of the family. They could all, finally, stop trying to make it up to him.
He could move on.
He picked up the phone and called April.
* * *
April was at the dog park with Stool and her mom’s three Chihuahuas when Zack called. She was still reeling from their bad date the night before, the threat of losing her Fite job, and the nearing end of her routine days with Merry.
“Look, I’m sorry,” she told him, “but I’m not up for anything tonight. It’s been a long day.” She kept a suspicious eye fixed on Stool, who sniffed the bark chips for feces like a teenager looking for stray Cheetos under the couch cushions.
“Anything serious?”
“No, just work,” she said.
“Just work?” he asked in mock horror. “Since when is work ‘just’?”
She smiled, not that he could see it. “My point.”
A long pause stretched between them. Then he said, “I’m trying to think of how I can redeem myself for last night.”
“It’s not necessary.” She readjusted the phone at her ear, wary but enjoying the sound of his voice.
“It is to me,” he said.
“Just answer me this,” she began, “is it anything to do with me?”
“No,” he said quickly, emphatically. “Nothing to do with you.”
Nothing to do with me. He hadn’t mentioned having any other relationships since his marriage. Could she be his first?
April twisted a strand of hair between her fingers. Did she want to be? “Is something wrong at work?”
“No, that’s going fine.”
“What, then?”
“I’m not sure you’d like to hear this.”
She had to ask. Her mouth was dry. “Were you thinking about Meg?” It hurt to talk about it, but it would hurt more not to.
He didn’t answer right away. “Her sister called me last night, right before I came over. I s
tarted thinking about the old days, when Meg was in the hospital, and it kind of put me in a mood.”
Closing her eyes for a moment, she let out a deep breath. “I wish you’d told me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I went through cancer with my dad. If you ever want to talk, I can take it.”
“Thanks.” He cleared his throat. “Really, it means a lot, that you understand.”
Except she knew she didn’t really understand. She’d never lost a partner, a husband, the love of her—
“I’d better go,” she said. “Stool is watching a Great Dane take a dump and I don’t like the way he’s licking his chops.”
He laughed. “Have you eaten? I’ll come by and cook something for you. You won’t have to go anywhere.”
“You don’t have to do that. It’s late, you must be tired…”
“Please,” he said. “I’ve been beating myself up all day for ruining our date last night. I need you to put me out of my misery.”
“Watching Stool has kind of ruined my appetite.”
“Avert your eyes and think of chicken curry.”
She coughed. “Not working. The Great Dane has diarrhea.”
He groaned and laughed along with her. “Pasta with grilled vegetables, then. Nothing brown. And I’ll leave whenever you say the word.”
She pulled out the wad of plastic bags in her pocket, ready to intercept Stool’s meal, but the Great Dane’s owner was already there with a long-handled plastic scoop. Thank God.
“Okay,” she said. “But not for the night. I need to sleep.” She could’ve used her mom down the hall as an excuse, but they both knew Trixie Johnson was an earthy, sex-positive, and grandmother-oriented woman.
“Deal,” he said.
And so he drove over to make her dinner. As soon as he stepped foot in the house, her mother announced she was out to the movies, grabbed her jacket, and was gone. And two hours later, April watched Zack’s long, deft fingers dry the last dish. She loved the look of his dark hair against his fair skin, the strong bones of his wrists, the flex of his forearm muscles. He had a deliberate grace to his movements, in the kitchen and in the bedroom. Never hurried—well, never in a bad way. Confident but careful.
Through a vulnerable haze of longing, she watched him pour her a second glass of chardonnay. The grilled vegetables had been good, especially with the Spanish cheeses he’d brought over from a gourmet shop in San Francisco. His skills were apparently limitless.
“I like a man who cooks for me,” she said, too tired to edit what she said. “It’s very sexy.”
It was just after nine, and the city lights of the Bay Area outside the window below them flickered in the night.
He hooked an arm around her waist and brushed his lips along her cheek. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”
She closed her eyes and felt his breath on her temple. “Thanks.” She tilted her head, hoping he’d kiss her neck. “So are you.”
He smiled against her skin and did as she hoped, kissing his way across her jaw to the thrumming pulse under her ear. “I hope tonight made up for last night.”
“You don’t have to be perfect, you know.”
He tensed a little before putting his other arm around her. “I like to try anyway.” He found her mouth and teased her lips with his tongue, and the playfulness turned demanding. Deepening the kiss, he pressed her against the counter, wedging his body between her legs.
Her exhaustion melted away. Clasping the back of his head, she sucked his tongue into her mouth and hooked her legs around his hips. With a groan, he lifted her higher, clearing the counter with an urgent sweep of his hand.
This was good. This was easy. She knew how to do this.
Then why was her heart beating so fast? If he weren’t holding her up to the counter, she would’ve fainted to the floor.
She cared. She cared in that deep, sticky, helpless way.
Oh, God.
She held him and closed her eyes and waited for the panic to subside. At that same moment, however, he lifted her T-shirt and began kissing the swell of her breast above her bra, and she opened her eyes and saw her five-year-old self’s white handprint on red burlap hung on the wall behind him, right next to the framed photograph of Liam and Mark dressed as bottles of ketchup and mustard for Halloween.
“Not here,” April said, catching his face between her hands.
He looked up at her. “I don’t want to drive all the way back to San Francisco again.”
“My room,” she said.
“Are you sure?”
Was that why she was so nervous? Because she’d known she was going to invite him to stay? This was her home, home of the real April. Nobody had ever shared her bed here before. She nodded.
“Thank God.” Licking his lips, he glanced down at her chest before helping her off the counter. “I don’t know what it is you do to me, but it’s a lot. More than a lot. It’s unbelievable.”
“Believe it, baby.” She smirked, trying to lighten the mood, but her knees wobbled as her feet hit the floor.
His dark eyes caught hers as he ran a hand up her cheek and clasped her face. “I’m serious, April. You have no idea what you’re doing to me. I’ve been obsessed with you ever since…” He stared for a long moment before turning abruptly, clasping her arm to draw her out of the kitchen. “Upstairs?”
She held back. “Ever since what?”
He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “Ever since I met you.”
Her heart skipped a beat, tripping over itself as it broke into a run.
“You almost called security,” she said.
“Even then I knew you were dangerous.” He caught her hand.
She led him up to her room with its pink-and-black decorating scheme from her high school years, wishing she’d done a little revamping when she’d moved back in last November. Her easel was balanced on top of an antique steamer trunk near the window, a box of pastels overturned beneath it, and an uneven stack of sketches spilled out of a plastic basket.
She also hadn’t put away her laundry that morning; it was clean and folded, but piled at the foot of the bed. She jogged ahead and moved it aside, then picked up the old romance paperback from her pillow, plucking out the lime-green panties she’d been using as a bookmark before she shoved it onto an overflowing shelf near her suitcase. She hadn’t put that away in the closet, thinking it was a good reminder that she was only passing through.
The bed was small, but at least the sheets were clean. She felt an odd twinge of discomfort. Nerves again. The real April was on full display.
Zack came close and stood behind her. He slid his hands up her arms and played with her hair, stroked her neck, moved back down her body. While he kissed her throat, he moved his hand under her shirt to pull down the cup of her bra. Teasing her nipple between his fingers, he lifted her shirt over her head and pulled her hard against him, his hips grinding into her bottom.
Her body didn’t respond with its usual charge, as if some of the wires weren’t connected properly. She looked out the window at Liam and Bev’s house and found her thoughts drifting to Merry’s new nanny, Bev’s return to Fite full-time, her own failures.
“Are you all right?” Softening his touch, he moved around until they were face-to-face. He kissed her lightly on the lips, smiling. “April?”
Her mom was worried about him getting hurt. That was cute.
“You’re leaving soon,” she said.
His smile fell. He kept his hands on her shoulders, but moved back a few inches. “Yes,” he said.
Her heart pounded in her ears. “Any chance you’ll stick around?”
Chapter 28
APRIL’S STOMACH TIED ITSELF IN knots as she waited for him to reply.
Finally he said, “I’ve signed a contract. With that friend of Mark’s.” His thumb drew a circle in the hollow of her collarbone. “It’s a software start-up in New Jersey.”
“Yes,” she said. “I know.”
/>
“This doesn’t have to be the end,” he said, “just because I’m leaving.”
She squirmed out of his arms and went over to the window. He’d repeated it twice now; he was really going.
“April?”
“What did you have in mind?” she asked. “For this not ending?” She tried to keep her voice calm.
“Will you turn around and look at me? I feel like you’re angry.”
Was she? She stared down at Bev’s new minivan in the driveway next door. She’d been angry at Bev for hiring a nanny so suddenly without consulting her about the choice. She was just the flaky aunt, but she and Merry had a special bond. Bev and Liam should’ve introduced her to the woman and asked her what she thought before plowing ahead with the deal, just as a courtesy.
But angry at Zack? What had he ever done that she could be angry with? He’d supported her at work, helped her with her family, pleasured her in bed—and the entire time he’d been clear about his ambitions to grow his business back in New York, where he lived, and where he had always stated would return before the first week in June.
He’d done nothing wrong except be wonderful and temporary. Temporarily wonderful. Wonderfully temporary.
She turned. She’d had a lot of arguments with guys over the years where her temper fueled her jets, told her what to say, but that was no help now. The secret deep inside her chest was too small and new to blaze forward with demands, ideas, exclamations.
She didn’t want him to go. Desperately. What could she say?
Crossing her arms to cover herself, she licked her dry lips. “If you don’t want to end it, what did you have in mind?”
He paused. “Come with me.” Eyes blazing, he strode over to her. “There are dozens and dozens of garment companies that need graphic designers. You’ve got a portfolio now. You can charge a higher hourly wage—you’re not charging nearly enough, by the way—and work more hours.”
Her mind went numb. Following him to New York had never occurred to her, not even once.
Well, she’d never claimed to be the genius in the family.
“New York would be great for you,” he continued. “You’d love it. The more I think about it, the better it sounds. Not for me—and it would be, I’m not denying that—but for you. The opportunities are unmatched anywhere in the country or even the world.”
Not Quite Perfect (Oakland Hills Book 3) Page 25
