The Reunion

by Jennifer Haymore

  He could have a career here—a different career from the one in San Francisco, but no less worthy.

  He wanted her back. If she’d have him.

  Finally, his phone beeped with an incoming text from Jake.

  Where is she, then? It’s only a bit after seven.

  I have no idea.

  She can’t be far. Wait for a while. Or you could try calling her?

  That would ruin the surprise.

  Okay, wait. But if she doesn’t show up, just call her, Jake advised.

  He waited. And waited. And when the sun was high overhead, he texted Jake again.

  Still not here. Shit.

  Hold on a minute… was Jake’s response. I’m checking with Ella. She might know what’s up.

  Nate closed his eyes. He’d been sitting in his car for hours, watching the door to Zoey’s apartment building. Several people had gone in and out. None of them were Zoey.

  A few minutes later, his phone rang. He looked at the display. Jake. Huh. Jake far preferred texting over calling.

  He answered. “Hey, what’s up?”

  “You’re going to think this is crazy.”

  Nate sat up straighter, frowning. “What? What is it?”

  “Zoey is in California. Looking for you.”

  * * * *

  When Nathan hadn’t arrived by morning, Zoey called a cab to take her to the airport. There was nothing else to do but go home. Nathan had spent the night somewhere else. Unless it was at his parents’ house—which she couldn’t really see—then him spending the night somewhere other than his house was a Very Bad Thing.

  And she wanted to be away from that Very Bad Thing as soon as possible. She felt like the elephant who’d stood on her chest when she’d seen Nathan and Oksana go to bed together had done jumping jacks on her heart, smashing it to a pulp.

  She wanted to go home to Crappy Apartment and curl up in bed and cry until summer was over and she went back to work.

  On the never-ending, miserable drive to the airport, she alternated between staring out the window and staring at her phone.

  She could call Nate, ask where the hell he was.

  But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She was pathetic that way…or maybe she was just too much of a coward.

  She’d thought she’d been so brave coming out here. But she’d come with certain expectations, only considering how happy Nathan would be when she surprised him. She’d never let herself think the worst might happen.

  When she arrived at the airport, she bought a standby ticket. She didn’t make the first flight to DC. Or the second. The third wasn’t until ten fifteen in the evening—a red-eye.

  Zoey had slept terribly last night; she needed a shower; her heart felt like so much pulp. She sat there in an uncomfortable state of misery, people flowing all around her, though she barely saw anyone or registered anything that happened around her. She was in a haze of misery, only pausing once for a cry session in the women’s bathroom.

  She’d never felt so lonely.

  All she could think about was getting home to Crappy Apartment. She needed that small space, her comfy, threadbare PJs. She needed her pillow and her soft Snuggie, and she needed to curl up in her bed.

  That was all she needed. Well, all that, and maybe some Ben & Jerry’s.

  Finally, they began to board the ten-fifteen flight to Dulles. They boarded the entire plane before calling the standby passengers. She was number one on the list—one little perk for being there all damn day.

  Finally…finally, they called her name. She grabbed her carry-on and headed toward the woman who was scanning the boarding passes.

  “Zo?”

  She stopped in her tracks. Then turned slowly, searching for the source of the voice.

  He was hazy at first, like everything had been today. Unclear and blurred. She stared, and as she did so, her vision cleared, until she could see every part of him, every line and angle from the jean-encased legs to the slightly wrinkled button-down and how one side of his collar was bent up. Then, her gaze moved up, and she saw the line of his jaw, dark with what looked like two days’ growth of beard, his sharp cheekbones, his untamed blond hair. And his eyes. Blue like the Caribbean sky. So blue. And the way they were gazing at her right now…

  “Miss?” the woman behind her said.

  She glanced back over her shoulder, then returned her attention to Nathan. “What… Why are you here?”

  “For you,” he said plainly.

  “Where were you last night?”

  He took a deep breath. Without breaking his gaze from her, he said, “I was in DC last night, Zoey.”

  She looked around, confused. “But we’re in San Francisco.”

  “I flew back as soon as I heard you were here.”

  “How did you know that?”

  “Jake. Ella told him.”

  “But why were you in DC?”

  “Miss?” the woman behind her said again.

  She kept her gaze on Nathan and raised the ticket she was clutching in her hand, wrinkling the paper. “I finally got on a flight.”

  He took a step forward, shaking his head. “No, babe. This time, I’m not letting you go.”

  He reached out and pulled her to him as the voice of the woman rang out behind her, irritated now. “Miss, you really need to board the airplane so the crew can close the doors.”

  She buried her face in Nate’s chest. Beyond the scents of airplane and airport, he smelled so good. Like laundry detergent and man…and Nate. He smelled like home.

  He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then looked up to the woman. “She’s not going anywhere. She’s staying with me.”

  Chapter Six

  The ride back to Nathan’s house was quiet, mostly. Zoey rested her chin in her palm, her elbow on the door as she gazed out the window. It seemed all the fog from the city had condensed inside her head. Now, the air was clear and the city sparkled around them.

  Before, the ride to and from the airport had seemed so long, but this time it felt like only a couple of minutes had passed before they were pulling into Nathan’s small garage. He turned to look at her. “Jake said you came here.”

  She nodded, then shook her head, her lips twisting. “Not exactly. I didn’t go into your garage.”

  “But you did go into my house.” His voice was flat—she couldn’t read it. Was he angry she’d broken in?

  “Yes.” She straightened her shoulders, because she could defend that decision with so much ammunition.

  But then he grinned, and the tension melted from her muscles. “Did you like it?”

  “It’s amazing,” she said. Because that was the truth. Head and shoulders above Crappy Apartment.

  “There are equally amazing places in DC.”

  She tilted her head at him and narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

  He just shrugged and got out of the car. Before she could open her own door, he’d done it for her. She looked up at him, one eyebrow cocked. “This isn’t a first date, Nathan. You don’t need to impress me by opening my door for me.”

  “I just couldn’t wait to see you again, babe.” He held out his hand to help her out. She took it. His hand engulfed hers, warm and firm, and she let him pull her out of the low bucket seat of his BMW.

  He didn’t let her hand go as he unlocked the door and led her inside. He flicked on the lights as they moved down the hall and then into the kitchen. He released her hand, and she stood by the granite island while he continued on to the refrigerator.

  “You look like you’ve been through hell,” he commented as he opened the fridge and bent down to look into it.

  She had. And now…now she was just confused. She didn’t know how to interpret his actions since he’d met her in the airport. And she was so tired. Her head was pounding from the hellish day she’d just had.

  “Do you want some orange juice?” he asked.

  “No, that’s okay.”

  “How about a sandwic
h?”

  “No, thanks, and thanks for the ‘you look like hell’ comment, by the way,” she said drily. “I can tell you’ve stopped trying to impress me.”

  Grabbing a bottle of orange juice, he turned around, his brows drawn together, making a cute dent over his nose.

  “That’s not true, Zo,” he said quietly as the fridge closed on its own. “I’m going to be trying to impress you until the day I die.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that. And she usually had a comeback for just about anything.

  He stepped forward, set the orange juice down on the counter, and brushed gentle fingertips under her eyes. “You’ve been crying.”

  She looked away, not answering.

  “Do you have a headache?” he asked softly.

  “How…how can you tell?”

  “There’s something about your face—your eyebrows”—he stroked a finger over each of her brows—“usually they have an arch to them, but when your head is hurting, they go flat. And here”—his fingers moved to the edge of her mouth—“your lips get tight. I can see the tension in them.”

  She still didn’t look at him. “I do have a headache,” she mumbled. “It’s a bad one.”

  “I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I put you through that,” he added. “I didn’t know you were coming to San Francisco. If I had, I would have been here for you.”

  “Yeah, well.” She gave a shaky laugh. “I’m here now. And so are you.”

  “Jake didn’t tell me why you came here. He just said that you were looking for me.”

  “I—”

  “But it doesn’t matter. Not right now. We need to talk, but I don’t want to have this conversation when we’re both wrecked.”

  As much as she wanted a final resolution between them…he was right. She could hardly see straight, not to mention figure out whether her future was going to be with him. She looked down at her fingers tapping restlessly on the black granite. “Okay.”

  “I’m going to give you a bath. Then I’m going to tuck you in. And you’re going to have a good night’s sleep.”

  “You look just as exhausted as me,” she complained, though even she could admit it was a halfhearted complaint. “You smell like recycled airplane air. You’re probably dead tired. I bet you didn’t get any sleep last night.”

  “I got a little.”

  “Humph.”

  “Right. When all you have to say to me is ‘humph,’ I know you’re done. Come on.” He took her hand and led her through the master bedroom she’d avoided last night and into his bathroom, an enormous space, all gleaming cream-colored Italian tile and black marble. There was a huge tub in the center of the room. He started the water and turned to her. “I don’t have any bath salts or bubble bath or any of that girly shit.”

  “Good,” she said. Because she knew Nathan well enough to know that if he had any of that stuff in his house, a woman would have brought it. And she didn’t like the thought of any other women in Nathan’s house.

  He helped her out of her coat, which he hung on a hook behind the door. When it was off, he gently pushed her hair over her shoulder and kissed the back of her neck. A shudder tickled down her spine, her body automatically responding. Nathan, unlike any of the other guys she’d been with, had discovered that erogenous zone on her quickly. It had been the first time they’d slept together, the summer before junior year.

  They’d both been new to sex that time. It had been so sweet between them, all discovery and exploration.

  She pulled in a shaky breath. “Nathan…”

  “Don’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen, babe. Not yet, anyway.”

  She shuddered again from the promise in his tone.

  He helped her undress, keeping his movements economical, though when she’d stripped down to her bra and panties he gave her a once-over that brimmed with male appreciation. But then, as if he couldn’t stand it another second, he stepped back. Without making eye contact with her, he cleared his throat. “Uh…I want to help you into the bath, but…ah…maybe I should let you”—he waved his hand in her general direction—“finish this up yourself.”

  How his bumbling made her feel so sexy, she’d never know. “You like my underwear?” she purred.

  His gaze shot to hers, and the look he gave her seared her deep in her core. “Yeah,” he said, his voice so husky it sounded like it was crackling.

  “Okay.” Her voice was deep at a level almost on par with his. And though every part of her was silently begging him to stay with her, the rational part of her told her that she was too tired and too confused and her head hurt too much, and if she was too close to him right now, she might have sex with him. Or she might pour her heart out to him, tell him she was in love with him, couldn’t live without him, and beg him to stay with her forever. “Then you should go.”

  “All right. You’ll let me know when you’re finished?”

  “Of course.”

  “Don’t fall asleep in the bath, okay?”

  She gave a small, sarcastic snort. “Right. You don’t need to worry about that.”

  * * * *

  But she did fall asleep. Nathan returned once, to bring her a glass of orange juice and a sandwich, even though she had declined both, then left her to her own devices. The bath was so warm and huge, and the soap she washed with gave the water a silky feel. There was an indentation at the porcelain lip of the tub that was perfect for her to rest her head into. She reached for the sandwich, which was so delicious she almost inhaled it, then she drank down the OJ.

  When she’d finished eating and drinking, she lay back, stretching her limbs, then relaxing them, thinking about Nathan. Why he’d flown to DC. Why he’d come home when he learned she was here.

  Had he gone to DC for her? Like she’d come to San Francisco for him?

  The next thing she knew, Nathan was talking.

  “Zo? Get up, babe.”

  She opened her eyes, shifting in the water, which had gone lukewarm.

  She blinked hard. “I wasn’t asleep.”

  He smirked. “Sure.”

  He held out the biggest, fluffiest white towel she’d ever seen. “Come on. Get out.”

  She hoisted herself out of the tub and stepped into the waiting towel.

  “Oh my God,” she moaned, cuddling into it as he wrapped her tightly. “It’s so warm. Was it just in the dryer or something?”

  “Towel warmer,” he said, and she groaned with pleasure.

  “I got your bag from the car. Here’s your toothbrush.” He handed her the toothbrush, then turned away and told her over his shoulder, “I’m going to turn down the bed. I’ll be right back.”

  “Thanks.”

  She brushed her teeth, and when she was done, he came back for her. He led her out of the bathroom, into his bedroom, and toward his king-size bed.

  She was awake enough to look at it dubiously. “Where are you going to sleep?”

  He gestured to the other side of the bed. “Over there.”

  It probably wouldn’t be wise to sleep in the same bed as him, not when she wasn’t at all sure where they stood. She cleared her throat. “Then I shouldn’t sleep here. Obviously.”

  “Sure you should.” He nudged her forward.

  She drew the towel tighter around her and raised a brow at him. “I need to get my pajamas out of my bag.”

  “I know for a fact you like to sleep naked,” he said.

  “That was years ago. For your information, I sleep in PJs every night these days.”

  “Not with me,” he said softly, and he gestured toward the turned-down bed. “You’re going to like it in my bed.”

  The possessive way he said that made that sweet, warm feeling flush through her again.

  “Now get in the bed, babe. I know you have a headache, so I promise to be good.” He held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

  She snorted. “I think I should sleep on the sofa.”

  “No way, Zo.”

  She gave him
a defiant look.

  “I dare you to lie down for two minutes, then get yourself up and out of this bed and go to sleep on the couch.”

  She cocked an eyebrow at him. She could never resist a challenge.

  He just stared at her with that impenetrable gaze.

  “Dammit. Okay.” She dropped the towel and pretended to ignore his little growl of appreciation at the sight of her nudity. Before he could see too much, she slipped into the bed and drew the covers up over her naked skin.

  Immediate bliss. Zoey closed her eyes and murmured, “Holy crap, Nathan.”

  The bed was so soft it was like lying on a cloud. The covers were warm. He must have a bed warmer as well as a towel warmer. She pulled the covers higher until they brushed her chin. “How is it possible for a bed to be this comfortable?”

  “I’m magic that way.”

  “You’re magic in a lot of ways.”

  She kept her eyes closed as he gently pushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “Sleep, Zo. We’ll talk in the morning, okay?”

  “Okay,” she whispered, already half asleep, drifting away on the warm, cozy cloud that was Nathan’s bed.

  * * * *

  “Nathan?” The call came from his bedroom.

  She was awake. Finally. Nate glanced at the clock on his oven to see that it was only seven forty-five, but it felt like he’d been awake and waiting for her forever. He scooped up the rest of the eggs onto a warm plate already containing hash browns and bacon, set it on the tray, and carried it into his bedroom.

  “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

  She scowled at him. “What the hell? This is all wrong. You never wake up before me.”

  “Today I did.” He didn’t know why, but that gave him a full, satisfied feeling. He held out the tray. “How’s your headache?”

  She rubbed at her forehead for a second, then her lips curled in a tiny smile. “Completely gone.”

  “Good. Want some breakfast?”

  “Uh…you’re bringing me breakfast in bed?”