Chapter 13
Zoe scooted back on the sofa, her heart thumping against her ribs.
“Why,” Sophie demanded shrilly, “are you sitting here in the dark?”
“It wasn’t dark,” Dan replied, his voice mild. He sounded remarkably composed when Zoe felt as if she was a limp and quivering mess. She pushed her hair out of her face, trying to tuck the longer pieces behind her ears, as she took several careful breaths before turning to Sophie with a smile.
“Okay.” He reached for the computer while Sophie watched them with narrowed eyes. Zoe felt as if she were in a badly rehearsed play, stumbling through her lines. Why was this so difficult? And what had just almost happened there, before Sophie had come in?
For a few torturous, tantalizing seconds, she’d almost thought Dan had been about to kiss her…
“What do you think, sweetheart?” Dan asked as he showed her the screen.
“Hmm…” Sophie frowned as she clicked through the images. “I think I like the last one.”
“Then you and Zoe agree.” He smiled at Sophie, but she was still frowning, her gaze moving once more between them, and then landing on their half-drunk wineglasses on the coffee table, her eyes narrowing even further.
“How was the game night?” Zoe asked, desperate to distract her. She didn’t want Sophie getting all panicky about her hanging around.
Sophie shrugged, folding her arms. “It was okay.” She still sounded suspicious.
“Tell us about it,” Dan invited, patting the space on the sofa next to him. “Did you play that computer game?”
“No, it was all boardgames.” Sophie still sounded suspicious, but like she was thawing slightly.
Zoe half-listened to her talk about some game where you were astronauts on a space mission and had to vote people out, and how Ben was really good at it, all the while trying not to think about whether Dan had been about to kiss her.
“I should get going,” she said when there was finally a lull in the conversation. She stood up from the sofa, smiling in Dan and Sophie’s general direction. “Got an early start tomorrow, making ice cream.”
“You’re making ice cream?” Sophie exclaimed, sounding excited. “Can I help?”
“Sophie—” Dan began, glancing at Zoe in query. He looked like he wanted to talk to her privately, and she knew she wasn’t ready to have a discussion about what hadn’t happened between them.
“Sure,” she told Sophie. “If you don’t mind waking up early. I need to get down there by around seven to get it all going.”
“I can do that,” Sophie said, and Dan’s eyebrows rose although he made no further protest.
“Okay,” Zoe said. “I’ll stop by around six-fifty to pick you up.”
Sophie grinned. “I’ll set my alarm.”
“You’d better,” Dan remarked good-naturedly, and then he scooped up their two wineglasses and took them to the sink, no big deal.
Nothing had happened between them, Zoe had to remind herself.
They hadn’t kissed, they hadn’t even come close to kissing.
For a few seconds, it had just felt as if they had, and she probably should forget that, for the sake of everyone concerned.
Her life was too complicated, and so was Dan’s.
But for a few minutes, a few seconds really, it had felt nice to wonder. To hope.
“Okay, then,” she said, banishing such thoughts from her mind. “I’d better get back since we have an early start tomorrow.”
Dan turned around from where he’d been by the sink, his gaze steady on her as he said quietly, “Take care of yourself, Zoe.” His tone almost seemed tender, and Zoe turned quickly away before she started to cry for about the tenth time that night.
“You too,” she managed, and then she practically stumbled from the house, out into the balmy night.
Back at her own house, she tiptoed into the living room to find her parents asleep in front of the TV as usual, and something in her deflated at the familiar sight.
They looked so old, her mother’s mouth slack and wrinkled, her father so pale even after his blood transfusion this morning.
Her insides clenched with fear as she imagined the future—their descent toward death, while she walked with them, hand in hand until the very end.
And then the ensuing loneliness, a yawning stretch of darkness that she feared would take over her life even more than being so involved in their care did.
A trembling sound escaped her, and she pressed her fist to her lips as she took a steadying breath.
Then she went upstairs to get their things ready for bed—blankets turned down, pajamas out.
Her mother would need help getting up the stairs and changing, but her father would want to maintain his dignity by doing everything himself, which Zoe appreciated.
He was still capable, even if everything took him a long time, because he got so tired out.
Back downstairs, she woke her mother first, touching her shoulder gently.
“Mom… Mom.” It took a few tries before her mother finally stirred, blinking at her groggily, a smile touching her mouth.
“Time for bed,” Zoe whispered. “Let me help you.” With one arm around her mother’s shoulders and another around her waist, she guided her to standing, positioning the walker in front of her.
Each shuffling step felt endless, her mother’s face contorted with effort; she was determined not to resort to a wheelchair until she absolutely had to.
It took several minutes to cover the short space between the living room and the stairs, and even longer to go up the stairs, one foot at a time, her mother leaning heavily on her.
One day, and probably one day soon, they’d either need to get a stairlift or move to a ranch house.
Her parents were reluctant to accept either option, but that didn’t, Zoe knew, change reality.
Upstairs she helped her mother undress and go to the bathroom, brush her teeth and then get into bed. As she pulled the cover up over her, her mother reached for her hand.
“Thank you, Zoe,” she whispered. “You’re so good to us.”
“You’re good to me,” she replied, squeezing her mother’s hand gently before she kissed her cheek, and then went down to help her father upstairs.
It was the same routine every night, but tonight for some reason it felt harder.
Maybe that was because she’d talked to Dan.
She’d encountered empathy but she’d also had a glimpse of a vista where she could feel and experience things she wasn’t used to—hope, excitement, desire.
Her stomach fluttered at the memory. What if Dan had kissed her?
But he hadn’t, Zoe reminded herself, and the truth was, he probably never would.
* * *
At six-fifty the next morning, Zoe stood in front of the Brysons’ house, armed with a sixteen-ounce cup of coffee and a bright smile.
She’d gotten up at five-thirty to clean the kitchen, make breakfast, and get her parents settled for the morning before Emma came at eight.
Her dad had assured her they’d be fine, even going so far as to be slightly annoyed when Zoe gave him the usual reminders—her mom’s medicine, the emergency numbers by the phone in the kitchen.
“Zoe, I appreciate all you do, but I’m not a child,” he stated firmly. “I might be a little weak and breathless on occasion, but I can take care of myself and your mother.”
“Okay, okay,” Zoe had said, trying to sound good-natured instead of nervous. She wasn’t sure she believed him; he tired so easily, and he also panicked in a way he didn’t use to, when he’d been healthier, but she wasn’t about to remind him of either fact.
“Good morning.” Dan opened the door, still dressed in plaid pajama bottoms and another faded rock band t-shirt—how many did he have?
He had a case of bedhead and an adorable expression, and he looked sleepy and sexy in a way that disconcerted her completely, along with her own reaction to it; she’d been expecting, or at least hoping, that Sophie would be the one to answer the door.
“Good morning,” she replied, keeping her tone brisk. “How is Miss Sophie this morning?”
“Tired, but about ready to go,” he said. “She’s just brushing her teeth.”
“Okay.” Zoe glanced away, wishing she didn’t feel so uncomfortable. She didn’t want to talk about last night. She didn’t want Dan to apologize or explain or ask her anything about it. She wasn’t ready. She probably wouldn’t ever be.
“I’m sorry our evening was interrupted last night,” Dan said quietly, and she stiffened.
“Well, we decided on the logo,” Zoe shot back with determined breeziness, “so I’m not sure anything was interrupted.
Are you going to show it to Lizzy?” She forced her gaze back to meet his, keeping it professionally bland, while he looked at her thoughtfully, his forehead crinkled in a frown, as if he were trying to figure her out.
“Yes, I’m going over to The Rolling Pin this morning.” He paused. “But I meant more about the other stuff. The conversation we’d been having—”
“I don’t feel like anything was interrupted,” Zoe said quickly. She felt her face heat, but she kept his gaze as she added firmly, “But thanks.”
He stared at her, and she stared back, wishing she wasn’t acting so prickly but knowing she couldn’t keep herself from it.
She simply didn’t have the emotional space or energy for some kind of nebulous thing with Dan Bryson.
At least, that’s what she was telling herself. After a few seconds, Dan nodded slowly.
“Okay,” he replied, stepping back from the door. “Fair.”
Zoe bit her lip, feeling yet again like she could cry. What was with Dan Bryson always reducing her to tears? This man affected her way too much, and it needed to stop. Now.
“I’m ready,” Sophie said, coming to the door.
She was dressed in cut-off denim shorts and a fitted t-shirt, far from the baggy clothes she’d been wearing a week ago.
Zoe hoped it was a good sign, that Sophie was regaining some confidence in herself.
She gave her a smile, blinking back the threat of tears, as they turned away from the door.