by Taylor Dean
“I’m nervous just listening to this dilemma. What did you do?”
“We decided our best course of action would be to move the table out onto the football field and blow it in place.”
“But, how did you get it out the door?” My stomach feels sick thinking of Zane in this situation, risking his life to save the lives of others.
“We asked the firemen to widen the door opening. They politely declined and lent us their rescue saw. Don’t blame them one bit, that nerve agent is nasty stuff. We’re equipped with protective gear to handle it, they’re not. So, we cut the doorway to widen it. Then we cut the legs off the table and placed the enclosure on an audio/visual cart. We very slowly walked that baby outside until it was in the center of the football field, as far away from any buildings as possible. But then we were faced with another issue.”
“What was that?”
“As soon as we fired the shot, it would break all the glass in the surrounding buildings.”
“Oh wow.”
“Something had to be done so people wouldn’t get hurt. So, they evacuated all the nearby houses. I felt bad for the residents.”
“Why not move it someplace else to blow it up?”
“G-series nerve agent is nothing to fool around with. Moving it is a dangerous task and we’d already moved it as far as I was willing to move it. The amount in that enclosure could’ve killed every student in the school and everyone who came to render aid. By blowing it in place, the problem is over quickly. Then, all they would have to deal with is broken glass.” He casts me a knowing glance. “In the end, they were happy to deal with broken glass.”
“I imagine so.”
“We set to work. We laid a bed of explosives in a slight depression and put the enclosure on top of them. Then we added more on top, rigging them all so they’d blow at the exact same time. When we fired the shot, the whole thing disappeared in one bright flash. As did all of the aforementioned windows.”
“Fair trade.”
“Exactly. Once the shot area cooled down, we tested to ensure that the nerve agent was completely gone. It was and our work there was done. We hopped back onto our helicopter and had the pilot make a pit stop at McDonald’s on the way home. Had myself a couple of breakfast burritos. So good. But not as good as a proper dinner. Thanks, Mila.”
“Hold on. You went to McDonald’s via helicopter?”
“I did. It was way too much fun.”
“You guys are crazy. But, wow. You really did save the world today. Or at least one community.”
“Yep. Felt good too. I love this job.”
Zane polishes off the rest of his dinner. “That really hit the spot. I think I’ll grab a shower and hopefully I won’t fall asleep standing up. If you hear a loud thunck, it’ll be me hitting the shower floor. Please save me so I don’t drown.”
I’m glad the lights are low, because I know my face turns bright red at the thought of seeing him in the shower in all his glory.
I shake my head to erase the visual.
“Mila?”
I move my hair away from my face. “Yeah, okay. No worries, I’ll save you.”
His eyes follow the movement of my hand. He flips on the light and I squint at the brightness.
“Where’s your ring?” he asks.
I look down at my hand. He finally noticed. “I took it off. I’m giving it back to Ryker.”
“Why?”
“We had a talk. I told him I didn’t think we were going to work out.”
“What did he say?” Zane is wide awake now.
“He asked me to give us a chance when he returns home. I couldn’t make that promise, though. Other than that, we’re pretty much over.”
He’s silent for so long, I think he’s not going to respond. “I’m sorry. That must’ve been hard.”
It should’ve been hard. I’m sad that it wasn’t. “Don’t be. There’s something missing between us. I’m not sure what it is, I just know we don’t have it.”
“Will you be leaving the penthouse?”
“No, Ryker asked me to stay and continue to be the caretaker. It makes life awkward, but I’ll survive.”
“Oh. Okay.” Zane stands there staring at me with a strange look on his face. He nods. “I’ll be in the shower.”
I sit on the couch, staring at the TV. I tell my thoughts they’re not allowed to join Zane in the shower.
They don’t listen.
chapter eighteen
~
IT’S EIGHT AM. Still no sign of Zane. I’ve been waiting to start my practice session. Zane was so exhausted last night. I don’t want to disturb his sleep this morning.
I’ve already mopped the floors, dusted every surface in sight, wiped windows until my wrists ached, and cleaned the kitchen from top to bottom. The Roomba is quietly wandering around the room. When it bumps into Arthur’s dog bed, he growls, but doesn’t bother to move. It’s my only entertainment in the too silent penthouse.
The room smells of lemon dusting spray and not one single thing is out of place. Ryker would be pleased.
Ryker still calls me nearly every day. He acts as though nothing has changed between us. He likes to talk about what we’ll do together when he gets home.
I know I need to say something more to him. Instead, I haven’t answered the phone for the last three days. Maybe I can let that do my talking for me. I know I was clear with him. I’m not sure there’s anything else I can say without feeling like I’m being mean. It’s weighing on me heavily.
I wander into my bedroom, Ryker’s master bedroom, and throw open the closet door. There’s a stack of boxes in there that have been begging me to clean them out. It seems like a good time to tackle them.
Soon I have a large pile of old bills and receipts that are ready to be shredded. That’s when I come across a folder I don’t recognize. I open it and stare at the contents with a frown.
I know what it is. This is the “important” folder Debra gave Ryker on the night of his non-proposal. Ryker accidentally dropped it on my driveway. I meant to give it to him, but I forgot about it.
If I remember correctly, Ryker looked at the contents, scoffed as if he was disgusted, and closed the folder.
Now I’m staring at what he saw and anger is building inside of me.
There are several random pictures of Zane in his uniform, all printed on regular pieces of printer paper. It’s obvious the pictures were taken without his knowledge. The pictures have caught him in the middle of mundane tasks. One is of him crossing a street, one is of him exiting a grocery store, and one is of him sitting in a restaurant by himself, to name a few.
At the bottom of the first page it says, ZANE MARTEL. Whereabouts: Westrich, Germany. And then the times and dates are listed. The other pages follow the same pattern.
Debra and Ryker actually spy on Zane? They have him watched so they can be aware of his whereabouts?
Is Zane really that much of a threat to Ryker? Ryker’s willing to sacrifice his jealousy to allow Zane to stay in his apartment, just so he’ll know where he is. Still, it strikes me as excessive and paranoid. Maybe a little crazy.
I stare at each picture, at the firm set of Zane’s mouth, the troubled gaze of his eyes, and the slight hunch of his shoulders. The way he looks when he thinks no one is watching.
The banished prince.
It bothers me more than I care to admit.
When nine AM strikes, I decide to go ahead and start practicing. It’s Saturday and Zane’s used to me waking him up on most days. I start with scales. Such a lovely sound. He’ll be up in no time.
As I predicted, it forces him out of bed. He enters the living room looking sleepy-eyed. In my peripheral vision, I can tell he’s only in jeans.
“Hey, you’re late today. I overslept.”
“Sorry,” I say, concentrating.
“What happened in here? Did the cleaning fairies attack?”
I glance at him, missing the correct keys. “Clothes, Martel.
Please.” Him and his ill-mannered body parts. They can’t help but gape.
He retreats to the bathroom. I hear water running as he bangs around, getting ready for the day.
When he returns, he slowly approaches my piano. I don’t look up. I only know he’s there because his aftershave precedes him.
The keylid cover on the piano slowly begins to close, nearly covering my fingers. I look up at him as I pull my hands away.
“What are you doing?”
“Saving you from yourself.”
“I need to practice.”
“It’s Saturday. Take the day off.” He sends me an eyebrow raise, challenging me.
“I have a performance this week.”
“And you’ll be amazing.”
“Not if I don’t practice.”
“You’ve practiced every single day this week. You’ve played for ballet classes every day this week. You’ve practiced with the symphony every single night this week. You’ll do better if you take a break.”
“I . . .” He’s right. I’d planned on taking today off. “Nervous energy is building inside me and I have to do something or I’m going to go crazy. I always get this way before performances.”
“Go crazy with me.”
If he’s trying to shock me, he did. We stare at each other as Ryker’s fancy wall clock ticks loudly in the room, making me aware that time is passing while we’re lost in each other’s eyes.
I look down at my lap. “What do you want, Zane?”
“I want you to relax. Look at this place. It doesn’t look like anyone lives here.”
“I’m the caretaker.” I’ve never been the girlfriend/almost wife enjoying free rent for a few months. This has never been about me. It’s been about Ryker’s needs. A sobering thought. “That means I’m doing my job.”
“Hey, you live here. So do I. For now, anyway.”
“We don’t belong here.”
“Sure we do. Ryker gave us permission to be here. He could ask us to leave at any time.”
True.
“Let’s get outta here, get some fresh air. Let’s do something crazy, like shop for things to add color to this place. Ryker will appreciate it, he just doesn’t know it yet.”
“Ryker will hate it.”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
I study him, worry evident in my features. “Why do you stay here, Zane? When you know how Ryker feels about you?”
He retreats into himself, enough that I notice. “He’s my brother. Shocked me when he offered, I admit. I thought it was a breakthrough. I guess I’m always hoping we can somehow be friends, mend our ways. We’ll never be best friends, but at least we can try to like each other.”
I feel for him because I don’t think that will ever happen. “Zane . . .”
“I know Ryker has ulterior motives when he lets me stay here, Mila. I know they keep track of my whereabouts. Joke’s on them. I have nothing to hide. Guess I figure some good might come of me staying here. Might change our relationship. You never know.”
“He’s not here right now.”
“That’s true.”
“So why stay here?”
“Because you’re here.”
“You want to be here because I’m here?”
“Yes. Does that scare you?”
“It terrifies me. In a good way.” I swallow. Hard. “Are you the good guy or the bad guy?”
“You have to decide that for yourself.” He holds out his hand. “Come with me and find out.”
I look down at his hand. If I reach out and take his hand, I’m making a conscious decision to be with Zane. This is a turning point and we both know it.
I could ignore him. I could spend my day practicing, like I should. I could turn away and never go down this forbidden path.
But I don’t. Deliberately, I reach out and join our hands.
He smiles, slow and delicious. “Let’s get the heck outta here. Ryker’s ghost is haunting us.”
It does feel like Ryker’s always with us when we’re in the penthouse. We need to escape.
chapter nineteen
~
WE SET OFF on foot. First stop—a little hole in the wall breakfast place where we eat chocolate covered croissants with fresh cantaloupe and honeydew melon.
“I dream of these when I’m out of town,” Zane tells me. “Seriously, I wake up with my mouth watering.”
“I can see why.”
Next, we wander in and out of shops, choosing bright-colored trinkets and various throw pillows, the brighter, the better.
We laugh as we choose each item. We grab vases, ceramic geckos, an owl, a fish, even an elephant. Each one is expertly painted with bold colors and designs. We choose trays and flowers and candle holders, each one a daring statement.
I love each item and would decorate my own home with them. I doubt any of it will remain in Ryker’s apartment, but we’ll enjoy it while we’re there.
Still, each item makes us dissolve into laughter, simply because we both know Ryker will hate them. Stiff, no humor Ryker will not even find them amusing.
We drop off our purchases and pick up Artie. Then we hop into Zane’s Jeep and grab lunch items at the grocery store. After that, we head for Golden Gate Park, where we spend the afternoon at Stow Lake, wandering the wooded pathways, riding the pedal boats, and talking non-stop. Artie loves it, even if he does want to be held nearly the entire time.
As we sit in the sun on a small dock, eating our lunch with our feet soaking in the cool lake water, our jeans rolled up to our knees, Zane says, “This has been a perfect day.”
I finish off our last strawberry. “Yes, it has. Thanks for getting me out of the house.”
“You needed an intervention. But I also love your dedication.”
I let my head fall back as I bask in the sunshine. We chose various fruits and cheeses, along with a baguette for lunch. Our rather European dining choices make me feel as though I’m on an outing in the French countryside.
I sit up and stare at the sun’s reflection on the rippling water. My lips part as I let out a deep sigh. Zane has a calming effect on me.
Unexpectedly, Zane reaches out and takes my hand in his, slowly and carefully lacing our fingers together. Our united hands sit between us on the dock, a question and an answer, waiting to be acknowledged.
While Artie is curled up on his lap, I stare at our clasped hands. I knew we were headed in this direction. I think I knew from the first moment I saw him. Perhaps this was inevitable. With his actions, he’s asking me to recognize it, to say it out loud.
My eyes travel up to his. He doesn’t say anything at first. He simply runs his thumb over my skin, back and forth.
“Don’t freak out,” he whispers.
His words are true to who Zane is and I love it. “I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. I can see it in your eyes.”
“I don’t want to be the cause of more family drama.”
“Mila, family drama will exist whether you’re in the picture or not.”
“But your relationship with Ryker, this could ruin everything.”
“You can’t ruin something that doesn’t exist.”
“I don’t want to come between the two of you.”
“Don’t look now, but you already are.”
“No . . .”
“You can walk away. We don’t have to do this. It’s your choice.” He pauses. “Just know . . . I want this.”
I squeeze his hand, unable to stop myself from a non-verbal response. There’s something about Zane that makes me happy, makes me feel alive. I can’t walk away. I want to find out where this will lead. I want to explore that magical ingredient he has that makes my heart race in weird ways.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
He nods, his eyes flashing. I wonder if anyone has ever stuck by him, other than his father.
He surprises me by scooting closer, so our hips and thighs are touching and our arms and hands are entwined i
n a way that feels intimate, like the time we danced on the makeshift dance floor in Chinatown.
Only this time, there’s nothing to stop us.
Artie looks up at us, then licks Zane’s arm. “Articus approves of us.”
Us, I think to myself. Zane and me are an us. I rest my head on his shoulder, testing how it feels to be close to him. I don’t have questions and I don’t have doubts. Oddly, it just feels right.
It always has. He makes me feel like I’m ready to dive into the deep end headfirst, like I’m ready to go for it, no reservations.
“Are you ready for this? For us?” Zane asks.
My insides quiver at the thought. “I am. This is exactly what I want.”
“I’ll try to move slow, but it won’t be easy.”
I close my eyes to calm the adrenaline racing through me. “I don’t want slow.”
He squeezes my hand. “Noted.” He kisses the top of my head, letting his lips remain for longer than necessary. “I think I can handle that request.”
I love the smile in his voice. I want to pour so much love on this man, so much that he won’t have room to receive it.
Zane rests his head on mine, and we simply sit there like that, snuggled up and entwined with each other. I wonder if he’ll kiss me, but he doesn’t, even though I announced I don’t want him to move slow. Instead, he seems content with simply holding me for the time being. I lose track of how long we sit there like that, not talking or feeling the need to fill the silence with useless chatter. We both allow the instant in time to be exactly what it is—our first moment together as an official couple. It’s an experiment in the feeling of just being us and I think we both want to prolong it, to make it last.
I love this. I feel close to him, like we’re one. I feel his strength and his confidence seep inside me and become a part of me.
When the sun lowers in the horizon, Zane says, “I guess we should head home.”
“Yeah, I guess we should.”
We take our time about it, leisurely walking to his Jeep, hand in hand. I breathe in deeply. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so relaxed, so at ease.
Once in the Jeep, Zane surprises me when he asks, “Do you want to see my new home?”
