by Taylor Dean
“I know what you meant,” Zane says, his tone firm.
That’s when I notice the tears dripping down James’ cheeks. Zane gently wipes them away with a napkin without commenting.
Is his emotion about seeing Zane or his inability to communicate properly? Or because he can hear the thinly veiled venom in his wife’s words?
Either way, James Martel is feeling and comprehending more than we realize.
Even though I want Zane to have time with his father, I’m relieved when the nurse comes to take James upstairs to rest. He’s nearly falling asleep while sitting up. The poor man can’t keep his eyes open, even though he’s fighting it as hard as he can.
Zane stares down at his plate, his forearms resting on the edge of the table. He doesn’t take a bite. “He hasn’t improved. Is he still undergoing therapy?”
“Every day. I take good care of him, I assure you. Some of us have been here the entire time and have never left him.”
Zane stills. “I couldn’t stay. The Army doesn’t look too kindly on their soldiers going AWOL.”
Another tidbit Ryker and Debra fail to mention when they speak of Zane.
“Of course not. Don’t worry about it. Ryker’s been here the entire time. He visits nearly every day. He’s a devoted son. Your father hasn’t been alone.”
The look on Zane’s face nearly kills me. His expression is the very definition of devastation.
He hides it quickly. “I’ll be here every day as well. Take some of the load off of you.”
“There’s no need, Zane. I have plenty of help.”
“I’ll be here because I want to be here and for no other reason than that.”
“If you must,” Debra says with her fluttery wave.
I’ve never seen anyone run roughshod over Debra. I’m rooting for Zane. I like the way he stands up to her. He’s not rude, but he’s firm.
Zane grabs his fork and stabs a bite of chicken. He takes a few more bites in quick succession, a sour expression on his face. He doesn’t look like he’s enjoying his meal. More like he’s eating cardboard. I think he’s eating only because he feels obligated.
“I suppose you’re wondering why I asked the two of you to dinner this evening.” Debra fingers the pearls at her neck as she often does.
“Does there have to be a reason?” Zane asks. “I’m your stepson and I wanted to see my father. Isn’t that enough?”
Debra laughs nervously. Zane knows how to push her buttons and make her flustered. It’s a beautiful thing.
“Ryker has asked me to bring the two of you together and discuss the current situation with you.”
Excuse me? Heat rises to my cheeks. Ryker asked his mother to speak to us for him? Uncool, very uncool.
“What exactly is the current situation, Debra?” Zane asks.
I notice he doesn’t call her mother. Interesting.
Debra rolls her eyes. “The two of you.”
Zane stills again, like a predator about to strike. “What about us?”
“Ryker’s very worried about the two of you living under the same roof. He feels it’s not appropriate and I agree. Something needs to be done.”
“He hasn’t expressed that to me,” I say. I mean, he did at first. But in the end, he’s the one who decided it was okay for Zane to stay, not me.
“My son is a trusting man, much more so than me. He’s not worried about you, though, Mila.”
Wow. There’s nothing subtle about the implications she left hanging in the air. She doesn’t trust me, even though her son supposedly does, and she certainly doesn’t trust Zane.
“Meaning?” Zane pushes.
“Come now, Zane. Do I have to spell it out?”
“Yes, please do.”
“You’ve always wanted what Ryker has. And we know you’ll do anything to get what you want. Anything.”
Zane stares her down, then shoves his unfinished plate away from him. “I won’t be at Ryker’s home for long. I’ve already found a place I’m interested in. I made an offer two days ago.”
I’m bothered that Zane doesn’t defend himself.
Debra gathers her thoughts. “That’s fine and good, but until the deal goes through, I think it’s time to discuss the alternatives.”
Zane’s face is deadpan. “What might those be?”
“Find other living arrangements immediately. This is the woman your brother wants to marry, Zane. Show a little respect.”
“Wait a minute,” I say, standing up so quickly my chair scrapes the floor. I’m so upset, I’m about to explode. “Zane’s been the perfect gentleman. It isn’t fair to imply otherwise. If Ryker doesn’t trust me, then we have issues between us that far outweigh jealousy.”
Debra scoffs. “Oh, Mila. Ryker isn’t jealous of Zane.”
Zane slowly stands, his eyes on me.
Maybe he should be. The thought hits me like lightning hitting a chimney, shocking the entire house.
I return his heated gaze. “It sure sounds like he is. If it walks like a chicken, and talks like a chicken, it’s a chicken. Zane hasn’t done anything wrong. Don’t make it sound like he has.”
Zane’s chest rises and falls. He holds me captive with his eyes. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I wish I did.
“I didn’t say that he had.” Debra stands as well.
I turn my attention to Debra. “If Ryker has an issue with this situation, he should talk to me about it. I don’t appreciate him calling in a third party. We can solve this between us and we don’t need any help.” I look back at Zane, who’s still watching me with intense eyes. “I think we should call it a night. Shall we drive home together?” I glance at Debra again. “Or is that unacceptable too, Debbie?”
“It’s Debra.”
Out of everything I said, I can’t believe that’s her response.
I head for the door. Behind me, I hear Zane say, “I’ll be here tomorrow morning to see Dad.”
“Call first to make sure it’s convenient,” Debra spouts.
“Nine AM. I’ll be here,” Zane announces, brooking no argument.
Zane catches up to me and we leave the house together. We climb into his Jeep and he takes off like the devil is on our heels. It’s still not fast enough.
Zane laughs into the wind. “Oh snap, that was fun. When you called the queen mother Debbie, I thought she was gonna blow a gasket.”
When I don’t laugh, he takes a deep breath and says, “I’m sorry, Mila. I don’t want to cause problems between you and Ryker.”
“It’s not your fault. Clearly, Ryker and I have several issues to iron out. My relationship is about me and him. Not me, him, and his mother. I’m so mad, I could spit.”
“I’d like to see that.”
I turn in the open Jeep and spit into the wind. Zane laughs harder than I thought he would at my actions.
“Why aren’t you upset?” I ask.
“I am. But this is the norm. I don’t expect any different.”
“You didn’t defend yourself. Why not?”
“It would be the same as spitting into the wind. Useless and it never ends up where you intend.”
He has a point. “I’m sorry you grew up facing that every day of your life.”
“I always had my father. I was never alone.”
“Still, it had to be hard.”
“I don’t think I realized what I was missing until I was a teenager. Before that, it was just my normal. I had no idea how dysfunctional we were.”
“You’re not dysfunctional. Debra is.”
When we arrive at Ryker’s penthouse, Zane finds an open spot on the street, parks his Jeep, and cuts the engine. Neither one of us bother to remove our seatbelts. We sit in the crisp night air, cooling off and breathing deeply.
“Hey, Mila.”
“Hmmmm?”
“Without Dad at full capacity, it’s not often that someone stands up for me. Thanks for that.”
“She’s a bully. My future mother-in-law probably ha
tes me now. And if she hates me . . . Ryker . . .”
“Ryker’s a big boy. He’ll make his own decisions.”
“Will he?” I have my doubts.
“I’d like to think so.”
I rub my eyes, feeling bone weary. “It’s his mother and he loves her. I get it. But he doesn’t see her for what she is.”
“No, he doesn’t. But he will one day. I’d venture to say it’ll be sooner rather than later. And it won’t be pretty.”
The sounds of horns honking and engines rumbling waft through the air. If I listen carefully, I can hear seagulls squawking in the distance. Fog is setting in, making me shiver.
“I’m glad I have the weekend off,” I mumble. “I need time to recover from that fiasco. Time to think things through.” The unsaid hangs in the air between us. I need time to sort out my relationship with Ryker. I feel like we’re a sinking ship filled with red flags.
“Thanks for going with me,” Zane says. “I’m sorry it didn’t turn out well.”
“It never does. Not once. It doesn’t bode well for me.”
“You can handle Debra, no problem. She just wants Ryker to be happy. If he’s happy, she’s happy.”
“I don’t understand why Ryker didn’t talk to me about it. It doesn’t sound like he’s happy with me right now.”
“Ryker will always be happy if he has you. He’s a lucky man.”
We both turn our heads, cushioned by the head rests, and look at each other.
I purse my lips. “I know I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I’m unsure of Ryker.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not positive we’re a match,” I say quietly. “I have a lot of doubts and I don’t know what to do about it.”
“Sometimes a separation helps you to see things clearly. Give it time.”
“Ever since he’s been gone, I’ve felt uneasy. It grows stronger every day.”
“Hey, it’s not the end of the world.” His voice is as quiet as mine, almost a whisper. “Everything will work itself out.”
“Yes, I suppose it will.”
“How about I take you out tomorrow? I think it’s time for some serious cheering up. Call it a thank you for not making me face the queen mother by myself. I loved having you by my side.”
Team Mila and Zane wanders through my mind again. I ignore the flutter it causes in my stomach.
A day out with Zane? We’re friends. Why not? “Actually, that sounds nice.”
“We’ll hop onto a cable car and ride off into the sunset. We’ll forget everything and everyone. Just me and you.”
I like the sound of that. More than I should. Our eyes study each other for several moments too long. I swear there’s a subtle shift in the air between us. “Okay. I’d like that,” I whisper. I love this lazy way of having a conversation.
“Where shall we go?” he asks.
“Into the sunset sounded good. I’m down with that.” Sounds like a nice escape.
“All right then. After the sunset. Where to?”
“I don’t know. You know the area. You tell me.”
“How about Chinatown? Have you been yet?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“It’s one of my favorite places to explore. We’ll grab dim sum while we’re there.”
“What’s dim sum?”
“Say what?”
“What’s dim sum?” I ask again.
He releases air between his lips. “We can’t be friends now.”
I do like he did earlier. I cup my hands to my chest and say, “Please, please, please?”
“You talked me into it.”
I mock sigh with relief.
He sends me his sexy half smile. “Dim sum is the best food in the world. You’ll love it.”
I’m skeptical. “I don’t want to eat anything weird.”
“This is not a Survivor challenge. It’s lunch. Dim sum isn’t weird. It’s a variety of steamed buns, rice noodle rolls, and dumplings, all served in steamer baskets. You choose what you want from a cart and everyone at the table eats family style. You haven’t lived until you’ve tried it.”
“I guess I haven’t lived then.”
“Nope. Not until now.”
He makes me feel like I haven’t lived until I met him. Something about his enthusiasm for life, his way of living on his own terms, his casual, relaxed lifestyle.
“Okay, I’ll ride off into the sunset with you. But when it comes to dim sum, I make no promises.”
“Deal.” He holds out his hand so we can shake on it.
I watch our hands clasp together as if it’s happening in slow motion. He holds my hand in his long after we shake.
My eyes travel up to meet his as I wonder what’s happening. A chill wanders through me, from the tips of my toes to the top of my head.
Zane frowns and releases my hand. “Aw man, I’m so mad.”
“What? Why?”
“I forgot the new socks Debra gave me. I need them. I don’t even know where to buy them.”
We laugh and the sound wafts up to the sky, getting lost in the night air.
I run my fingers through my long hair and mimic him. “Aw man, I’m so mad.”
That merits a smile. “Pray tell.”
“I forgot to braid my hair for the trip home. It’s a rat’s nest.” I pull my brush out of my purse and attempt to tackle the mess.
Zane grabs the brush. “Hey, I got it. Turn around.”
Our eyes meet again, and I hesitate for a few seconds. Having Zane brush my hair somehow feels highly intimate. “You want to . . . brush my hair for me?”
“I’ll be gentle, I promise.”
“The wind has made it all snarly.”
“I can get them out for you.”
“Um . . .”
“Don’t overthink it, Mila.”
I look deep into his eyes and see sincerity. “Okay, thank you.”
I turn in my seat, my back facing him. He sections off a piece of hair, starts at the bottom and works until he reaches the top. He runs his hand over the section of hair several times, smoothing it out, before moving on to the next piece.
“How do you know how to brush a woman’s hair?”
“I’ve had a few girlfriends in my time.”
A flash of jealousy takes me by surprise. I don’t know where it came from and I brush it aside. He’s thirty-two. Of course he’s had relationships in his life. “Any of them serious?”
“Not enough to want marriage.”
“Do you want marriage and children one day?”
“I do. I’d love a houseful of little urchins that get crumbs everywhere and call me dad.”
I hide a smile, close my eyes and enjoy his ministrations. I’ve always loved when someone brushes my hair for me. Of course, it has always been my mother who did it in the past.
This is entirely different.
His touch is so gentle, I never even feel a tug from the snarls. He takes his time, in no hurry at all.
“You have beautiful hair. I love it long. I hope you never cut it.”
“I don’t plan to.” I cringe. My voice came out ridiculously high. How embarrassing. I might as well have announced that his touch does something to me, that it affects me in ways I can’t control.
And I think to myself, I like Zane. I like him a lot.
That’s as far as I allow my thoughts to go.
chapter fourteen
~
AFTER ZANE RETURNS from visiting his father, we catch the cable car at the corner of Powell and Market.
“Hop on,” Zane says, holding out his hand.
I grasp onto his hand, his warmth invading me. He helps me step up into the iconic cable car San Francisco is known for. All at once, we’re face to face, and there’s nowhere else to go, no way to step backward.
He looks down at me, his eyes half shuttered. “We can get off anywhere between Bush and Jackson,” he says, his face close to mine, the closest it’s ever been.
&
nbsp; I hold onto his hand tighter as the cable car starts to move, trying to keep my balance.
“From there we walk downhill one block and we’ll be in Chinatown on Stockton Street. It’s filled with produce markets. The next block is Grant Avenue. That’s where you find the gift shops.”
“Okay.” I feel his breath on my face and it makes me dizzy. Nothing he said has registered. “I take it you’ve been there many times,” I say, my voice breathy.
“Oh yeah. The perks of growing up in Fog City.”
He turns and moves into the cable car. We forego the bench seats and stand on the sideboards, hanging onto the poles. Zane leans out as far as he can, letting the wind rush on his face.
He’s sort of crazy, maybe even reckless.
Today, all I want to do is join him, to feel wild with him. I lean sideways, my hand gripping the pole tightly. I let out a little scream, feeling free and easy. Letting loose never felt so good.
Shame on me, I’ve only taken a cable car ride three or four times since I moved here. Now I’m wondering why I haven’t done it every day. But it wouldn’t be the same without Zane. I wouldn’t be leaning out of a cable car without him.
I don’t want to think about my text exchange with Ryker this morning. But it’s seared into my mind.
Ryker: What happened last night? You upset my mom.
Me: She insinuated you don’t trust me.
Ryker: It’s Zane I don’t trust.
Me: If you have something to say, please talk to me about it.
Ryker: Can’t talk now. Will call later. Please apologize to Mom.
I hesitated over my response. There were so many nasty retorts popping into my mind. I decided against all of them and settled for a simple NO WAY.
I haven’t heard back from him since. I guess this is our first fight.
I let out another scream, releasing all of my stress, releasing all of my thoughts about Ryker. I’m glad I’m not at home moping around. Zane turns, flashing me a cheesy grin. I guess he approves of my decision to let it all hang out.
When we finally arrive in Chinatown, it’s crowded with throngs of tourists. Zane takes my hand in his, leading as we weave through the masses.
We’re not holding hands like a couple. He’s simply ensuring we don’t get separated.
But when the crowds thin, neither one of us lets go of each other’s hand. I try not to read too much into our actions. I only know that I don’t want the connection to be broken.
