34. Zoe
THIRTY-FOUR
Zoe
“ Z oe?” Caleb’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I blink to focus on his warm concern as he asks, “Are you alright?”
The soft glow of candlelight flickers between us, shadows dancing on an immaculately clean white tablecloth. My handsome fiancé sits across from me at the first cozy Italian restaurant we came across on our walk, one hand on the table, the other on his lap. He is exuding an effortless calm that I crave but can’t seem to absorb. Instead I sit across from him, stuck in a tornado of confusion and longing.
I manage a smile, a mask. “Just a bit tired from work, I guess.” The words come out like a lie, but they’re the safest option. I can’t burden him with the chaos swirling in my heart. Even with the inviting aroma of garlic and freshly baked bread filling the air, all I can taste is the lingering warmth of Tom’s kiss on my lips, a kiss that wasn’t supposed to happen. A kiss I never saw coming. One that melted me to my core.
Caleb nods, though I see doubt flicker across his face. His tone is gentle, “You have more time to finish the arrangements tomorrow, don’t you think? You should have taken it more easy today.” He keeps talking, but how can I listen when Tom’s kiss echoes in my body? “Did you hear me?”
“What did you say?” I hurry to add, “Sorry.”
“I was saying it’s okay. You’re here with me now, and all you have to do is rest. You’ll feel better when we get some food in you.” Caleb elegantly waves down a passing server, and I recognize the woman.
Arriving at our table, she tilts her head while trying to place me in her memory. “Excuse me, do I know you?”
I remind her with a smile, “You bought a bouquet for your mother’s college graduation two-and-a-half month’s ago.”
“You’re the owner of Florist Shop! That’s right. Good memory!”
“College?” Caleb asks with friendly curiosity.
Our server explains, “My parents divorced late in life — should have a long time ago, if you ask me — and so my mom went back to school. Said she should have gone years ago but…better late than never!”
“Impressive.”
I nod my agreement with Caleb’s response and add, “I think it’s wonderful what she did, Stephanie.”
“Hey!” She lights up. “You remember my name, too!”
“I try to remember everyone who comes into my shop, but of course I’m not perfect at it.” Tucking a lock of hair behind my ear, I shrug, “You told me about your mom’s graduation. That kind of story makes it easier to stick inside my Swiss-cheese brain.”
A food-runner passes behind Stephanie making her step closer as she avoids him while saying, “I’ve been working at getting better with names. Hard to forget yours, now that we’ve placed where I remember you from! The Cocker family is super famous here in Atlanta.”
I grin, “Some of us are!” feeling more relaxed now that we’re talking about something as comforting to me as my family. “Maybe one day my little shop will hold a candle to what some of us have been able to achieve.”
“I love your shop!” Stephanie exclaims, waving one hand in its direction for emphasis. “Every time I walk by I try to invent a reason to buy more flowers. It’s so charming in there!”
Caleb offers, “After tomorrow, her name will be much more famous. She’s providing the floral arrangements for my father’s retirement dinner at the Four Seasons.”
Stephanie’s eyebrows rise. “That’s a beautiful hotel.”
“It’s a step up in the world.”
I stare at Caleb, and Stephanie shifts her weight like she can feel the air change between us. Or is that just my imagination? “Can I get you some wine?” she asks.
“No wine.” He folds his menu, and lifts mine from where it lay before me, handing them both to her. “Zoe will have the Spaghetti Carbonara. I’ll have the Bracioli. We’ll start with a Caprese salad and Bruschetta with two small plates. We’ll share. And for dessert, Tiramisu.” He glances to me, “Lemonade?”
“Yes, please.”
To Stephanie he says, “Two lemonades.”
As she starts to leave I interject, “But…I thought I’d like to have the Chicken Piccata.”
“You’ll love the Carbonara.”
Stephanie looks from me to him. “Both are good.”
He contradicts her, “Not with the tomatoes which are in both of our appetizer dishes. They’d clash with the cream of the Piccata.” He turns his attention to me, confidence in his further explanation, “You aren’t feeling well. I don’t want to upset your stomach.”
“Oh…that makes sense.”
Stephanie holds my look for an unusually long moment, then heads away.
She quickly returns with our lemonade and hurries off to take care of the busy establishment. As we wait for our food, Caleb starts to tell me of how his father calmed down once we left the two of them, earlier. I am barely able to pay attention as he explains that his mother helped put out anger’s fire by saying it was all in the past now .
I’ve been silent for some time when Caleb finally pauses and joins me. We look around the restaurant, not speaking for a few extended moments. He clears his throat. “With everything that happened today, I’m feeling tired, too. Food will help.” His gaze drops to silverware so new it shimmers. “This is a nice place. Glad you said this was your favorite.”
“This isn’t my favorite. I said I like this one, when you asked.”
His eyebrows rise. “But I wanted to take you to your favorite.”
That’s the Vortex. Years ago, my favorite would’ve been a tie between the two restaurants my parents owned since before I was born — Crash and Burn . They’re both sold now. Ever since, The Vortex owns the title of favorite — the Cocker haunt none of us ever tire of. But I didn’t want to go there for some reason. This seemed more Caleb’s style. “I like this one a lot.”
He takes a sip of lemonade, asking over the rim, “Have you ever been?”
“Once.”
“Okay then,” Caleb chuckles. “Well, from the smell alone, I’d say it was a good choice.” He taps on the table in thought as I start to sip my lemonade. “I know it’s a marriage of convenience, but I hope we can make it something more.”
I nearly do a spit-take, swallow hard, set down my glass and proceed to straighten my silverware, adjusting the knife to a neat and controlled parallel line beside the fork. “Caleb, I…” My voice falters as I search for the right words, the truth tangled with guilt. I want to believe in what Caleb’s offering, yet the image of Tom’s fingers touching mine through the glass of that police car earlier today, pulls at my consciousness. Inside my chest, my heart feels like a fist is squeezing it. “I think we should…let things grow on their own?”
Intensely handsome, Caleb smiles and leans toward me, “I understand. It’s a big step for both of us. But I want you to know that I do care about you, Zoe. More than I thought I would.”
His confession sends a jolt through me, but it’s a feeling I can’t quite describe. I should be happy — relieved even — to have the answers to my future be so clear.
So clear to him .
He likes me. He wants to turn ‘convenience’ into…more. But all I want to do is cry.
This is so unfair.
All of this.
I promised to marry him.
“Caleb, I?—”
He reaches over and wraps his warm hand over my tense one. “I heard that you stood up for me, to your brother. Tom told me. The meant a lot to me, Zoe. First you agree to help me get my trust fund and finally achieve freedom from my father?—”
“—Freedom?”
“Yes, with my own money I can start my own business.” Letting go of my hand and leaning back in his chair, a storm swirls in Caleb’s eyes as he stares off into his current reality. “As it is right now I work under a tyrant. A man who may be the reason I’m walking on this planet, but who has never, not for one day, cared about what I want. Never even asked. To finally be free of his control… I can’t wait!” My fiancé smiles at me. “It’s because of you, Zoe."
Obligation weighs me down. “I’m happy I can help you."
"And then today I heard that you stood up for me, and told your brother that my past doesn’t matter. That’s what a wife is supposed to be.”
I shake my head. “That’s what a person is supposed to be. Who are we if we don’t stand up for each other?”
A sarcastic laugh breaks from him. “Few people think like you do.”
“I don’t agree with that.”
“It’s true.”
After staring at Caleb for a second, I shrug, “It doesn’t matter what other people are doing or not doing. We have to do what’s right, because it’s right. And maybe, by doing that, we inspire them by example.”
A grin of incredulity and admiration spreads on Caleb’s face. “You really are amazing.”
I frown, “I don’t think common human decency is amazing.”
He leans forward, earnest eyes locked with mine. “Thank you. I mean it, Zoe. Thank you. I’m going to do everything I can to make you very happy.”
Stephanie sets our salad and bruschetta down, their rich aroma successfully distracting me from emotional and mental turmoil. Before I know it, my fork is in my hand, piled high, and it dawns on me, did I even have lunch? Breakfast?
As he and I eat, I force myself to engage in small talk, asking about what business he wants to start. Caleb dives in, talking passionately about his ideas, and for a moment, business-owner to business-starter, I feel a connection. Something human, real and tangible. But in the back of my mind, Tom’s kiss haunts me. I am trying to hide it from myself that, while this meal is good, I would have preferred a Holy Guacamole burger at The Vortex. With a different man’s smile before me. A lopsided one that lights up not only the room but also me from the inside.
Instead…
I just feel…
Dark.