“You look perfect,” Nana said from her chair in the living room. “Like you belong on the red carpet.”
Zoey had to admit, the dress was perfect. Blue silk, asymmetrical with one shoulder strap and cascades of fabric cinching around her waist before falling in waves to the floor. The blue looked stunning with her dark hair, which she wore swept to the side to compliment the flow of the dress. She’d didn’t think she’d ever looked so beautiful.
Zoey crossed the living room and sat down, but then stood back up again. Would sitting wrinkle her dress? She shook her hands, as if that alone would chase away her nerves, then wiped at the beads of sweat forming on her upper lip. “Ugh, I cannot start sweating!” She walked into the kitchen and opened the freezer, using the door to fan her face.
Cassandra came up behind her. “Here,” she said, taking the freezer door from Zoey’s hand. “Let me.” She shifted Zoey into the space behind the freezer door, so the cool air pressed against the back of her neck, and picked up a thick magazine from the counter, using it to fan Zoey’s face.
“Ohhh, that helps,” Zoey said.
“You’re going to do fine,” Cassandra said. “This is Harry we’re talking about. How long has it been now? A month? Six weeks? You don’t have anything to be nervous about.”
“Five weeks,” Zoey said. “But I’m not nervous about Harry. I’m nervous about everyone else. What if they don’t like me? What if they don’t think I’m pretty enough to be dating the Harrison Beckford?”
Cassandra scoffed. “Since when did this become about being pretty enough for anyone? You are a strong, independent woman, and any man, famous or not, would be lucky to spend an evening in your company even if you wore a paper bag over your head. You have more to offer than your looks, sweetheart. Don’t forget that.”
“Amen,” Nana shouted from the living room.
Zoey took a deep breath. She could do this. “Thank you for coming over,” she said to Cassandra. The nurse wasn’t technically on duty—she’d come over as a friend—which made Zoey all the more grateful that the woman had become a part of her grandmother’s life. She was the real deal.
A knock sounded on the front door and Zoey’s heart lurched. “I’ll get the door,” Cassandra said. “You best get out of the freezer.”
Zoey moved into the living room and grabbed her bag, then moved over to kiss Nana goodbye. Cassandra returned, Harry on her heels.
Zoey’s breath caught in her throat. Harrison Beckford knew how to wear a suit. Dark gray, impeccably tailored, with a vest and a black tie, with the shoes and the hair and . . . Zoey swallowed. She needed to speak. “Hi,” she finally managed.
Harry smiled. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you. So do you.”
He held out his hand. “Shall we go?”
They said goodbye to Nana and Cassandra then left through the front door. A sleek black limousine waited for them at the curb.
“Wow,” Zoey said. “I guess you don’t drive yourself to these things, do you?”
“Part of the perks,” Harry said.
A driver waited for them, opening the door as they approached the car.
“After you,” Harry said.
Zoey climbed into the limo and settled herself on the rear seat. Harry sat down beside her and reached out to squeeze her hand.
“Seriously, Zoe. You’re stunning.”
Zoey looked down at the blue silk she’d spent way too much money on. “Thanks. Any last-minute pointers? Red carpet dos and don’ts?”
“Jason will take your bag when we get out of the car and return it to you when we reach our seats. Other than that, just smile a lot and hold on to my hand.”
Zoey nodded. “I’ll be with you the entire time, right?”
“The whole time,” Harry assured her. “There might be a reporter or two who want to ask a few questions, but mostly it will just be photos. If anyone asks who you are, I’ll introduce you as my date, Zoey Williamson. That’s it. It won’t take long for people to try and figure out who you are, but Greta intentionally leaked info about you being a family friend and a news anchor in Chicago, which should be enough to keep them from digging too far into your personal life, though, if you have any public profiles you’d like to make private, it’s probably a good idea to do that now.”
Zoey’s job already required that she have a pretty carefully curated online presence. She did have public profiles, but they were pretty basic. She never posted personal stuff. “I think I’m probably good on that front.”
“I guess with your work you’ve already thought about that,” Harry said.
“On a smaller scale, for sure, but yes.” She closed her eyes and took a couple of cleansing breaths. “Geez, why am I so nervous?”
Harry chuckled. “Did you get this nervous before you went on the air back in Chicago?”
Her eyes popped open. “Never. But this is entirely different. People didn’t watch the news to see me. They watched the news to get the news. But people are going to be taking pictures of me. Well, I mean, of you, really. But I’ll be with you and that means they’re all going to be speculating about who I am and what I’m doing with you and whether or not we’re just dating or if we’ve fallen in love. I don’t understand how you’re so chill about this.”
“Well I was feeling chill. If you keep this up, we’re both going to be a mess by the time we get there.” The laughter in his voice and the warmth in his eyes told Zoey not to take Harry seriously. “It’s going to be fine,” he said. “I promise. You’re going to be the smartest, most talented, most beautiful woman in the room. Everyone is going to be amazed by you.”
Zoey took another deep breath. “So, I’m not going to be introduced as your nanny?”
Harry raised their clasped hands to his lips and kissed the side of her wrist. “No. But I’ve never really thought of you as the nanny. Maybe for the first week, but then I was just so . . . I don’t know. You’ve always felt like a lot more than that.”
Warmth filled Zoey’s chest. “I’m really happy, Harry.”
He grinned. “Me too.”
Moments later, the limo pulled to a stop and Harry gave her hand a final squeeze. “Are you ready to do this?”
They stepped out of the limousine into a sea of people, photographers calling Harry’s name, yelling for his attention. Through it all, he was cool and calm, guiding her along the red carpet, pausing at intervals for different photographers to get their shots.
At one point, Harry pulled her close, an arm wrapped tightly around her waist and whispered into her ear. “This is so much easier with you beside me,” he said.
The gesture only increased the flashes of the photographers’ cameras. If they’d had any doubt about whether or not she and Harrison were a couple before, their doubts were likely gone now.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Zoey managed to keep it together when they were seated at a table with an actress she’d seen in a movie less than a week before and the lead singer from one of her favorite bands. The food was incredible, the dessert good enough she nearly asked the waif-like actress if she could eat hers as well, and the entertainment was better than she’d expected. The benefit was for a nonprofit organization focused on providing legal support and translation services to immigrant asylum seekers; by the end of the night, it was a cause she was happy to support both by her presence—she was sure Harry’s network had paid prettily for their tickets—and with her own donation.
After drinks and more schmoozing and shaking hands with a dozen different people she was sure she’d never remember, she and Harry finally found themselves back in the limo.
Zoey collapsed back against the seat. “That was exhausting.”
Harry loosened his tie. “Tell me about it. You were amazing though.”
“I about lost it when John Krasinski and Emily Blunt stopped and said hello.”
“John’s a nice guy. We had dinner a few months back. You’d like him.” Harry leaned agains
t the seat but turned himself sideways, so he faced Zoey. “I don’t want to take you home yet.”
Zoey grinned. “I don’t want to go home yet.”
They wound up at a sleepy little basement jazz club they had to walk through an alley and descend a set of stairs to find. Had she been following directions on her own, without Harry to lead her, Zoey would have turned back three steps into the alley. But once they were inside the club, she was glad Harry had known where he was going. The club’s atmosphere was nearly perfect. The place was full, but not crowded, the music just loud enough. Seated in a highbacked round booth in the corner, they could talk comfortably without having to shout over the music, but also without having to worry about anyone overhearing their conversation.
“This place is amazing,” Zoey said.
“I used to come here all the time,” Harry said. “Before the divorce.”
Zoey traced her fingers over the folded napkin that sat on the table in front of her. “Things were different then,” she said, a statement, not a question.
“Yeah. Really different.”
“Were you as involved with the kids as you are now? Before the divorce?”
Harry frowned, his eyes dropping to the table.
Zoey slid a hand under the table and rested it on his knee, giving it a quick squeeze. “Hey. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to sound like judgment.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “The truth hurts. Honestly, that was probably part of the problem. Samantha didn’t want to be a mom, but maybe if I’d been around more, been more involved . . . I don’t know. Entertainment news was not particularly kind to me during the divorce. Samantha made some pretty public accusations about me being an absentee dad, about her giving up her dreams so I could live mine. A lot of what they said was completely fabricated, but there was enough truth in the reporting to make me realize I had to change. The kids deserved better. And with their mom so completely checked out, I couldn’t afford not to be all in.”
“I love that about you,” Zoey said. “Watching you be a dad? It’s clear the kids are your top priority.”
Harry shook his head. “It hasn’t always been that way.”
“You’re doing a good job, Harry. Single parenting is hard.”
A waiter showed up beside their table and took their drink order, before leaving them to their conversation.
“What about you?” Harry asked. “Do you want a family?”
Nerves skittered through Zoey’s gut. It was a big question. A consequential question. She shrugged, trying to play off her nerves. “Yeah. I mean, I’m not looking to have a baby right now or anything, but, yes. It’s always been a part of the plan.”
Harry leaned forward, surprising her with a quick kiss. She leaned forward when he went to pull away, catching his face with her hand and pulling him back for a second and then a third kiss.
“I sometimes worry that my kids might scare women away,” Harry said, his lips still close.
She kissed him one more time. “Your kids? Have you met your kids? They’re nearly perfect.”
“Yeah, but . . . the instant family. It isn’t what a lot of women dream of.”
Instant family. Funny. Zoey hadn’t thought of it like that. She’d known about Harry’s kids and realized they were a package deal. But she’d never thought of herself as anything other than the nanny. But if things kept up with Harry, that wouldn’t always be the case. She wouldn’t be a nanny. She’d be a mom.
She pushed her fears aside and focused on the man in front of her. “I think you’re worth it, Harry. You don’t have anything to worry about.”
Harry hesitated and another pulse of fear snaked through Zoey’s gut. He was hitting all the hard subjects tonight, wasn’t he? “What about Chicago?” he finally said. “Has that always been a part of your plan?”
Zoey pulled away from Harry and pushed her fists into her lap. The implications of that question felt even bigger. “So I guess we’re going to have this conversation now?” Even as she said the words, she wished she could call them back. She sounded defensive. Why was she defensive?
Harry reached for her hand. “We don’t have to have this conversation now. Not if you don’t want to.”
Zoey kept her eyes down. She couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t see the warmth she knew filled his expression. “Harry—” she started, pausing when her voice cracked. Suddenly, her emotions made sense. She wasn’t defensive, just scared. She finally looked up. “We can talk about it.”
“I’m not going to pretend like I don’t want you to stay in California, Zoe. But I see how quickly Ms. Emily is improving. She’s not going to need you much longer, and I guess I’m wondering what that means. Do you want to go back to Chicago?”
It felt like a billion-dollar question.
She did want to go back. She couldn’t just stay in California and be Harry’s nanny. That wasn’t a career; not for her, anyway. She’d been checking her email daily, hoping to hear back from Channel 4 about the anchor position. She wouldn’t be that anxious to receive an answer if she didn’t still want to be there. But she also couldn’t begin to imagine walking away from her relationship with Harry. It was good. So good. Better than any relationship she’d ever had before, and she’d had some pretty good ones.
“I don’t know what I want to do about Chicago,” she said. “But I do know I don’t want to leave you.”
He smiled, but it wasn’t a real one. Not really. It didn’t come close to reaching his eyes. “There are news stations in Los Angeles,” he said. “Lots of them.”
There was a boyish hopefulness to his comment that warmed Zoey from the inside out. “That’s true.”
“Though, I suppose there are also homes that need remodeling in Chicago.”
Zoey rolled her eyes. “Nice try. We both know that’s about the most impractical thing you could ever suggest. Your show is here. Your parents. Your house. Your kids’ lives. Your sister and her family. You can’t leave California.”
He sighed. “I know. But I’m crazy enough about you, you might convince me to do it anyway.”
Zoey leaned in and kissed Harry again, her hand reaching up to cradle the back of his head. “Let’s not think about it right now,” she finally whispered. “For now, I’m not going anywhere.” It was a cop-out answer and she knew it. But what else was she supposed to say? She couldn’t tell him how she felt about Chicago because she didn’t actually know. It felt like she was living in a parallel universe. This was her California life. Her living with Nana, dating Harrison Beckford, hanging out with two amazing kids life. But her Chicago life still existed. Her news anchor life. Her independent career woman life. The problem was that no matter the mental gymnastics she tried to perform, she couldn’t seem to make the two lives intertwine. It was like they existed on completely different planes. She just couldn’t explain all that to Harry. Especially not tonight.
Harry pulled back, catching her eye. He held her gaze a long moment, his expression radiating sincerity and warmth. “I’m falling in love with you, Zoey,” he said, his tone gentle.
Zoey closed her eyes, chills racing up her spine and out to every fingertip. She had imagined what hearing those words would feel like. She was falling for him, too. She knew she was. But the thought of admitting as much made fear grip her midsection, constricting her lungs until she worried she might stop breathing. To say the words back felt big. Consequential. Only made worse by the pulsing neon sign in the back of her brain that said Chicago, Chicago, Chicago.
Since she couldn’t answer Harry with words, she leaned forward and answered him with another kiss. She didn’t hold back, willing all of the words she was too afraid to say into the gesture. She tilted her head and parted her lips, deepening the kiss. Harry pulled her closer, accepting her, welcoming her. Somehow, he grounded her and lifted her into the atmosphere all at the same time. She felt safe, anchored, like she was exactly where she needed to be, but also felt as though she could fly around the room with the en
ergy coursing through her. It was intoxicating.
She wasn’t able to give Harry the reassurance he wanted. Not yet. Hopefully for now, that kiss would be enough.
Harry dropped Zoey off just after two in the morning. She sank onto the couch in Nana’s living room, wishing it wasn’t so late. She needed wisdom. Answers. Clarity. But then, even if it wasn’t a ridiculous time of night, she didn’t know who she would call.
Earlier that night, she’d ignored a text from her mother. ZOEY WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME CALL ME IMMEDIATELY.
For her mother to leave out punctuation of her texts was very telling. She’d probably been on the phone all evening with her sisters and cousins and neighbors and old high school friends and anyone else she could think to tell. Before long, she’d be researching wedding dress boutiques in Southern California and pricing out designer invitations. She probably already had three different “mother of the bride” dresses in her online Stein Mart cart. No, she couldn’t call her mother. Hers was not the advice Zoey needed.
Nana was usually the voice of reason in Zoey’s life, but in this instance, she wouldn’t be much better than Mom. Besides, Nana loved Harry. She’d never be able to filter out how much and how long she’d cared about him to give Zoey unbiased advice.
Zoey didn’t even have a friend she felt like she could call. She was running kind of low in that category as of late; her crazy work schedule had all but ruined the few friendships that had survived grad school. Morning news anchors got up when most people were going to bed which meant she’d mostly slept through Chicago’s active night life the past few years. The people she had hung out with in Chicago had all been coworkers. A few of them would be willing to listen, Veronica would for sure, and would try to offer advice, but they didn’t know her well enough to know what she needed.
Ashley from the park had offered to listen, but she knew Zoey least of all.
A wave of loneliness pulsed over Zoey, and oddly made her wish she could curl up in Harry’s arms and forget about everything. But that was the least practical impulse of all. She’d never make a reasonable decision about what to do about Harry if Harry himself was in the room.
Always You: A Sweet Romantic Comedy (ABCs of Love Collection Books 5-8) Page 60
