Chapter Four ZOE
Chapter Four
Z OE
In the moment after Liam stormed out of the office, the lawyer and I did nothing except exchange stunned looks.
I blinked, a shocked exhale escaping my lips in a puff.
Byron blinked too, then blinked again.
“Well, shall we continue reviewing the paperwork?” he asked. I’d have given him an A for infusing the fakest of all confidence into his voice.
The shock faded at the idea that we’d just continue. That Liam “I’m a Big Grumpy Brit” Davies was just allowed to act like a big grumpy child whenever he felt so moved.
And in place of the shock was a blinding, white-hot anger.
“What a dick,” I breathed.
Byron cleared his throat. “He certainly”—he paused, choosing his words carefully—“doesn’t handle surprises very well.”
He’d send me a check .
His friends had died. They’d loved and respected him enough to ask him to help raise their child, and he’d ...
I couldn’t even think it again.
Remember when I said I was constantly walking a tightrope between wanting to bawl my eyes out and wanting to punch someone? I was out of my chair before I could register another thought.
It looked like I was stepping firmly into the camp of violence.
“Miss Valentine?” Byron asked.
“I’ll be right back,” I called over my shoulder.
Sure, his legs were, like, a foot longer than mine, and I needed to sprint to catch up with him in the parking lot, but I was fueled by some pretty righteous anger, and that made up for a lot.
By the time I yanked open the door of the lobby, Liam was just easing into his dark SUV.
“Hey,” I yelled.
He froze.
“Don’t you dare get in that car,” I warned.
He tipped his head back and swiveled in my direction. Annoyance was stamped all over his face, and the hard line of his jaw was so tight that it seemed a miracle the bone hadn’t cracked.
Liam slammed his car door shut, settling his big hands on his hips while I crossed the parking lot.
Why did he have to be so big? My righteous anger ebbed a little when I had to tilt my chin up just to make proper eye contact and level a glare at him.
“You can’t just leave,” I said.
“Watch me.”
I blew out a hard breath. “I get it. It’s a shock, and you weren’t ready for it.”
His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he averted his eyes.
“I know it’s easier for me because I’ve had her since ...” I paused. “I’ve had her with me, and Amie told me about their trust. But you can’t just ignore what they’re asking of you.”
His eyes narrowed the slightest amount, and I thought maybe he’d listen. Consider doing the right thing.
“I told you I’d send you a check every month.” He spoke slowly, like I couldn’t understand him. “If I was ignoring it, I would’ve walked out, and you’d never see me again.”
It would have been so easy to knee him between the legs, given the height difference. I could have just snapped my knee up and caught him right there .
He whistled. “Someone is thinking violent thoughts.”
I smiled. “Just imagining the sound you’d make if I kneed you in the balls right now. I’d play it on a loop whenever I needed a pick-me-up.”
Liam leaned in, a decided gleam in his stupid dark-green eyes. “This the stuff you used to say when you worked at the hospital? I’m having a hard time believing they didn’t sack you, Goldilocks.”
“Don’t call me that, and don’t change the subject.”
He leaned back against his car and eyed my hair, which—on a good day—was unmanageable. Today had not been a good day, and standing outside while the breeze tossed it all around certainly wasn’t helping. I yanked a hair tie off my wrist and wrangled my mane into a low bun.
He smirked.
At the sight of that twist of his lips, I contemplated the possible ramifications of punching him while standing in a lawyer’s parking lot.
Instead, I pulled in a long, steadying breath. And I thought about Mira. Just like it always did, my chest went warm and tight and heavy. The pressure of raising someone else’s child was unmatched, especially when you hadn’t been expecting it to happen.
Maybe I’d been thrown into the crucible of this situation a couple of weeks before Liam, dealing alone with the little girl crying for her parents when they didn’t come back after a few days, but I could not ignore the fact that they’d wanted him in it with me.
If nothing else, there was someone else to bear the load of the pressure.
“They asked you for a reason,” I reminded him.
“Bet you’re racking your brain trying to figure out what that is, aren’t you?”
I held his gaze unflinchingly. “Yes.”
His head reared back at my honest answer, but it brought some of his hostility down ... just a touch.
I rubbed my forehead, where the beginnings of a headache had started to bloom. “I know we’ve never been friendly, Liam.”
“You don’t say,” he drawled.
It wasn’t even hard to contain the eye roll because now this was about something so much bigger than how he’d gotten under my skin over the years.
“But we don’t need to be friends right now.” I folded my arms around my waist and looked into the distance for a momentary reprieve from those eyes of his. Even the far-off mountains didn’t offer as much comfort as they normally did. I met his gaze again. “This is about Mira.”
Everything about Liam was hard. The way he held his tall, muscular frame, the set of his jaw, the look in his eyes.
“You might take issue with what I’m saying, Zoe,” he said. “But that won’t change it. Stop and think that maybe Mira’s the reason I’m keeping my distance. I won’t be any help to her, trust me.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but he pivoted, yanking open his car door and sliding in before I could say another word.
My stunned silence continued as I walked numbly back into the office. Byron was on his laptop, and he closed the screen as I took my seat.
“Will Mr. Davies be joining us again?” he asked quietly.
I shook my head, fighting an ache as it crawled up my throat and threatened to come out in the form of an exhausted sob.
Byron pushed a box of Kleenex in my direction, and I gave him a tiny smile.
“Ready to continue, or would you like to reschedule?”
I blew out a slow breath. “Do we have to do anything legally if he’s not involved?”
“Not unless you want to. We can take steps to petition the court to remove Liam as a guardian, and if he agrees to take part in that process, it would be fairly painless. Just some time and paperwork.” He shrugged. “Or we can leave it as is and see if he has a change of heart.”
I laughed under my breath. “I don’t see that happening.”
He tilted his head. “You’re sure?”
I thought of what I had come to know about Liam over the years.
Stubborn. Willful. Argumentative.
But in moments where he hadn’t known I was watching, moments with Chris and Amie and Mira, I’d gotten glimpses of someone else entirely.
“No,” I admitted. “I’m not sure. Of anything.”
He studied my face. “Let’s just keep the rest of the appointment simple, okay? Sign a few papers while you’re here. We can get you on the trust account they set up for Mira’s care. We’ll revisit some of the less pressing matters another time.”
Byron slid the folder back in my direction.
With my heart hammering in my chest, I picked up the heavy pen and started signing papers.
Taking a deep breath as Byron swapped out one finished page for the next, I thought back to something he’d said earlier.
“The house in Michigan,” I said. “You mentioned a friend they’d left it to.”
Byron nodded. “He played at U of M with Chris. If it helps, he was just as shocked as the two of you.”
What I knew of the house was little. It had belonged to Chris’s grandparents when he was young, then fallen into massive disrepair. Chris and Amie had intended it to be someplace special for their family as they raised Mira, and for whoever else came along after her.
“So that’s not something I have to worry about?” I asked.
He shook his head, a slight smile hovering over his lips. “No. Just Mira.”
Just Mira, I thought. Just raise their child. By myself, apparently.
By the time I drove home, my whole body ached from the twists and turns of the day’s emotional roller coaster. I needed a bath, some wine, a gallon of ice cream, and a good, solid cry in the closet, where no one could hear me.
As I wound through the streets of our neighborhood, I wondered what might have happened to Mira if I’d never met Chris and Amie.
If I’d decided to go elsewhere for college.
If I’d ended up in a different job instead of working in accounting at the hospital nearest to their neighborhood.
If I’d never met Charles at that hospital—in his perfectly tailored three-piece suits.
If I’d never moved next door to them.
If I’d never kept the house when I kicked my ex out two and a half years earlier.
I’d never grown up dreaming of a fancy house in one of the wealthiest suburbs of Denver, but the moment I laid eyes on that brick Tudor, with its beautiful garden and wrought-iron gates around the front yard, I knew it was where I was supposed to be.
Cherry Creek was a mix of elaborate mansions and older homes like mine, with established trees and a community hum that I loved.
When I pulled my car into the garage stall, I took a moment to lay my head back on the seat rest and try to make sense of what had just happened. But the moment of unsteady peace was interrupted by the door from the house opening.
Rosa had Mira perched on her hip, and the moment Mira saw me, she scrambled to get down. I opened the car door with a laugh and had hardly pulled my legs out of the vehicle before she was climbing up into my lap.
“Hey, bugaboo,” I said, kissing the side of her face. “Mmm. Someone had peanut butter and jelly for lunch.”
She nodded. “Rosa make it.”
“Oh man, I bet her sandwiches are so yummy.” I kissed Mira’s cheek again and sighed when her skinny little arms tightened around my neck.
Since the accident, I’d hardly left Mira’s side. We survived on takeout and grocery deliveries and Amazon Prime, like God and the introverts intended.
But since I’d been gone for a couple of hours, she’d likely cling to me for the rest of the day.
Or maybe I’d cling to her. It was a toss-up.
Rosa held the door open for us with a smile while I tried to navigate exiting the vehicle with my purse, the manila folder, and Mira clinging to my neck. Rosa took the folders when I held them out, and I smiled gratefully.
“How’d it go?” she asked.
I gave her a look. “I think we need privacy for this one.”
“What’s privacy?” Mira asked, playing with some wisps of hair that had escaped from my haphazard bun.
“Privacy is when someone needs to be alone, but if you want to go turn the TV on in the family room, that’s enough for me and Miss Rosa to have a very adult conversation.” I set her on the kitchen island, and she kicked her legs against the cabinets. “Is that okay?”
She nodded. “ Moana ?”
I gave Rosa a questioning look, but she shook her head.
I tweaked the tip of Mira’s nose. “Yes, you can watch Moana again.”
Hooking my hands under her arms, I set her down on the floor, and she took off running into the family room, jumping excitedly when I cued up her favorite movie.
When I got back to the kitchen, Rosa was pouring a glass of chardonnay. I smiled. “How did you know?”
“Because you look like shit.”
“Thank you, Rosa.”
She slid the wineglass across the island. Every single day, she wore her pure-silver hair back in an elegant chignon, never so much as a strand out of place. Around her neck was a ruby cross that her husband had bought her for her sixtieth birthday. Red rubies for his Rosa. I didn’t know anyone else who could pull off a ruby cross. Somehow, she did. Together, she and her husband had raised a boatload of kids and balanced successful careers. Before his death a few years earlier, her husband had been a successful ob-gyn, and Rosa had been a pediatrician until she retired.
When Chris and Amie died, she immediately stepped in to help me with Mira.
“Tell me.”
“I have shared guardianship of Mira with Chris’s best friend.” When a quick glance at her face told me she was going to listen before reacting, I took a slow sip of chardonnay and then set my glass aside, knowing the wine would only make my headache worse. “You remember Liam Davies?” I asked.
Her eyes gleamed. “How could I forget? He’s delicious. I wonder if he’d go for an older woman.”
I gave her a look, and she chuckled.
“Kidding,” she said.
“He is an unmitigated asshole.”
Rosa laughed. “I don’t think he actually is, though. Do you really believe that?”
I didn’t know what I believed. Which made everything so much more complicated.
“Have I ever told you what he said to me the first time we met?”
She shook her head, taking a seat at the island and picking up the discarded glass of wine for herself.
I tugged at the ponytail holder until my waves were free and I could dig my fingers into my scalp. Thank goodness no more noodles came out. A girl could take only so much in one day.
I sat like that for a moment, hands speared into my hair, staring down at the counter, mind churning back to the first time I’d laid eyes on Liam.
“It was probably ten years ago,” I told her. “I was in the middle of planning my wedding to Charles, and I was so stressed. All week, I’d been buried in spreadsheets and budgets and invite lists. All I wanted to do was relax and read and not think.” My eyes closed unwittingly. “I didn’t even hear him come in at first, but when I looked up from my book, he was there. Just ... staring at me.”
She listened quietly, sipping on the wine while I got lost in the memory.
“I mean, objectively, he’s just ... stupidly hot, right?”
Rosa hummed.
“He wasn’t a dick right off the bat, but he did stare at my ring for a few seconds before he introduced himself. When he shook my hand, we kinda just ... stood like that for longer than was polite.” My brow wrinkled. “Then Charles came into the kitchen, and Liam let go of my hand.”
“I can only imagine how well those two got along.”
I laughed. Then laughed even harder.
I didn’t stop until my eyes actually welled up with tears, because that entire evening had been such an unbelievable disaster. Charles showed his pretentious asshole side for the first time in our entire relationship, and Liam ...
When my laughter ebbed, I swiped a thumb under my eyes and exhaled slowly. “By the time dinner was done, Liam had called Charles a bottom-feeding dick whose head was shoved so far up his own ass that it was a miracle he could see where he was walking.”
Rosa choked on her sip of wine.
“And then”—I paused, sucking in a sharp breath as I remembered the words as clearly as if he’d said them yesterday—“he wished me luck with husband number two and said he hoped I had better decision-making skills after I was done with husband number one.”
“No,” she breathed.
Somewhere in the middle of the story, I’d started picking at the edge of my thumbnail. “Yup.”
Even a decade later, I felt the sting of that comment just as clearly as the moment he’d said it.
“Charles really did have his head up his ass,” Rosa said.
I gave her a look. “Not the point.”
“And you did get divorced from him.” She set her hand on mine. “Which was an excellent life choice, as you know.”
“Whose side are you on?”
She grinned. “Always yours, my dear.”
I laid my arm on the counter and dropped my head down. “He wants nothing to do with Mira. Said he’d send a check every month.”
Rosa ran her hands through my hair. “Maybe that’s a good thing, if you two really don’t get along.”
I turned my head until I could see her face. “But I’m not the one who made all these decisions. Chris and Amie did. They worked on this trust for weeks, maybe more. And isn’t it my job to respect their wishes? They’re entrusting me with their daughter. I can’t ignore the fact that they wanted this other person to be part of the picture as Mira gets older.”
“Give him time,” she said. “Maybe he’ll change his mind.”
“You know what bugs me the most?”
She arched an eyebrow. “That he was right about Charles?”
“No.” I stopped. “Well, yes. But besides that.” I sat up and stared across my kitchen at the photo of me and Amie stuck to the fridge with a Denver magnet. “That she didn’t tell me. She knows he drives me crazy.”
Rosa’s hand squeezed mine.
“Knew,” I corrected. My throat was stiff and swollen, ratcheted tight with tears that desperately wanted to escape and emotions that I’d done my best to keep in check. “She knew. And I can’t understand why they chose him. What kind of selfish person just tosses a check at a situation like this and walks away?”
“I wish she’d told you too, honey. I think she would have.”
Eventually.
If she’d had time.
In the family room, Mira giggled at the chicken, and my heart clenched in my chest.
A tear spilled over my cheek. “I miss my friend,” I whispered.
“I know you do.” Rosa turned on her stool. “Hug or no hug?”
A watery laugh escaped my lips. “Hug.”
The tears came faster once Rosa folded me into her strong embrace.