Chapter Twenty-One
“Zach?”
No, please, no.
The second he’d read the email and had seen the way Tilly had thrown off her despair and the flare of determination in her eyes, he’d been waiting for it. Waiting for the moment when she asked him for the one thing he couldn’t do.
“I can’t.”
“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”
“Tilly, I do. And I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
He knew with every word that he was killing whatever chance he had with her, but his relationship with his mother was complicated. And even though the season was one of goodwill, he couldn’t extend that to her.
How long had Tilly thought about this?
Slowly, he felt his heart start to crack. Had she been biding her time, waiting?
Had Rainey Webster even said she would do it? Had it been a ruse the whole time? Had Tilly sent the email to herself from a fake address that looked like it belonged to Rainey?
Was she that calculating?
He’d known her for less than two months after all.
“How long?” he demanded.
“How long, what?” Her hazel eyes shone with confusion. He hardened his emotions against it. No way was he going to be sucked in to her act, even though a part of his brain was telling him he was jumping to conclusions. That he was making assumptions that were baseless. He ignored it.
“Have you been playing me? Using me for my connections to my mom? I have to admit, the burned sandwiches, the fire and the sob fest against my chest were a nice touch.” He laughed, a harsh sound to his own ears.
Tilly rose from the table and stalked over to him. “Excuse me? You think all of that was fake?”
“I don’t know what to think anymore. I thought you were different. I thought you wanted me for me. Not for who my mother is. You’re like most of the women I dated.”
Zach’s hurt was overriding his common sense, but he didn’t care. He wanted Tilly to be different. He’d fallen in love with her, and he didn’t want it all to have been part of a grand scheme.
“You’re making assumptions here that are unwarranted and unfair, Zach. You still don’t even know what I was going to ask of you.”
He scraped a hand down his face, tiredness pervading his soul. He didn’t think he needed to say it, but maybe he did. “You were going to ask me to phone my mom and see if she would be the narrator for you.”
“I’m not going to lie and say that didn’t cross my mind when I opened my binder.”
God, he hated being right.
“But,” she continued before he could say anything.
“That’s all it was, a fleeting thought, because you’re more important to me than your mother.
What I was going to ask you was if you would help me memorize the script.
I decided that I was going to be the narrator.
I’ve done it enough times in practice, so why shouldn’t I do it for the main event?
I wanted your help, and all you gave me were accusations and assumptions. All unwarranted.”
Was she telling the truth? Had that been her plan all along, or had she come up with it on the fly when he called her out?
He didn’t know what to believe anymore.
Had he gotten it all wrong?
“I can see from your hesitation that you still don’t believe me.” She lifted her chin, and he couldn’t unsee the hurt in her eyes. “I think you should leave. I relieve you of your obligation to the show.”
“Tilly . . .” He paused, unsure of what to say because he still didn’t trust that what he was seeing was true.
“Stop.” She held up her hand. “Nothing you can say will erase what you’ve said. Please just go.” Her voice broke on the last words and she turned away. Zach wanted to reach out and pull her in, but he didn’t.
He gave her what she wanted.
*
Darkness had fallen again, and Zach still sat in the chair in his living room, staring at the unlit Christmas tree. All joy he’d derived from it was gone.
All day he’d been going over the past few weeks with Tilly. The genuine joy she’d shown when they’d had a good run-through. The way she’d worked so hard to get the show put together. There’d been nothing fake about her. And he’d gone and accused her of using him.
He should’ve remembered how she’d changed her mind after he told her about his mom.
Fuck! I’ve messed up so bad.
Zach wished he had some whiskey or bourbon. Or any type of alcohol, so he could make himself forget how stupid he’d been.
Lights flashed through his front window and then disappeared again.
He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair.
He should be used to the lack of sleep. After all, he’d trained his body to work on minimal shut-eye, but it was more than a physical exhaustion that was dragging at him.
At the knock on the door, he groaned. The last thing he wanted to do was talk to anyone. If he thought for a minute the person was Tilly, he’d be up out of his chair and yanking the door open. But it wasn’t going to be her. If he kept quiet, whoever was there might think he wasn’t home and go away.
They knocked again, but this time a voice he never thought he’d hear said, “Zachary, open the door. I know you’re in there.”
“Mom?” He couldn’t quite believe she was here.
How did she find him?
“Zach, please open the door.” She knocked again. Or more like pounded on it. If he knew one thing about his mom, once she had her sights set on something, she didn’t give up.
Grumbling to himself, he got up and staggered to the hallway. He’d been sitting for so long his muscles had frozen up. He flicked the light on, grimacing at the brightness.
God, he was a mess, and he was about to let his mother into his house.
“What do you want?” he said after opening the door.
“Oh, honey, what’s happened?” Her hand came up to stroke his cheek, but he stepped away.
“I’m fine,” he gritted out.
“May I come in?” she asked after a few beats of silence had passed between them.
It was on the tip of his tongue to say no, but he stepped to the side and the unmistakable smell of Chanel No. 5 wafted past him. He always thought it smelled like sour flowers.
Zach scanned the area quickly to see if perhaps this was a setup and there were cameras pointed at his front door, but he couldn’t see anything.
There wasn’t even a car, so he had no idea how his mother had gotten to his place.
But if he had to call her a taxi to take her back to Bozeman, then he would.
His mother stood by the tree, now lit. “Why did you turn the lights on?” he asked.
“Because a Christmas tree should always be lit,” she said.
“Right.” He crossed his arms and stared her down. “What do you want?”
“I came to see you.”
“How did you find me?”
Kathryn looked away as if ashamed. What had she done? “After our last call, I hired a private investigator.”
“You what!” He was a thirty-year-old male, not a runaway child.
“I’m not sorry, Zachary. I miss you. I was worried about you. You went through something traumatic. I needed to know you were okay, and you weren’t communicating with me.”
“Oh, please, you don’t have an audience watching. You can drop the concerned parent act. It’s not going to get you any ratings.”
Anger at himself for how he treated Tilly. His mom. Life. Everything ate at him, and he took a couple of deep breaths.
“I know you won’t believe me, because I know I’ve never given you a reason to, but I’m sorry. Sorry for what I did after the fire.”
Silence fell between them. His mother was saying ‘sorry.’ What was going on here? She never apologized for what she did. She’d told him once that saying sorry didn’t get you anywhere in Hollywood.
“Is that supposed to make everything better? You expect me to forgive you for making it all about you and not the victims. You knew I never wanted it to be about me. I wanted it to be about being fire aware. Knowing the signs and listening to the news. I wanted it to be about what to do when caught in a bad situation. I wanted it to be about my team. What we do. I wanted it to be about the victims and how they survived the trauma. What I never wanted it to be—was about you.”
Zach turned away, his chest heaving.
“Zachary,” she said, his name a whisper, and with his back to her, he couldn’t tell if it was as sincere as it sounded. “You’re right. You did say all those things and I ignored them. I could’ve done some good with my platform, and I will.”
He faced her again, trying to determine if he could trust his mom, a person he should be able to trust without question. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
His mom smiled sadly. “I deserve that and more. I’ve done everything wrong.
I stopped being your mom and became a person I swore I would never be.
I got caught up in the fame and forgot the reason my show was a success was that I cared about my guests.
I should’ve cared about you. I should’ve cared about those people whose lives were almost taken.
And I should’ve advocated for my son’s honorable occupation. Given it the spotlight it deserved.”
Zach rubbed at his chest, as if her words were burrowing deep into him to heal some of his hurt.
“I don’t want to be about sensationalism anymore. I don’t want to generate clickbait headlines. I want to go back to being a host who cares about her guests. A host who wants to help them. To use my stage for good and raising awareness for causes that get forgotten or ignored.”
Even in the dim light from the Christmas tree, he saw something in her eyes that he hadn’t seen before. Humility. Sorrow. And self-deprecation.
“I want to believe this,” he blurted out. “I want to believe you mean what you say, I really do, but I find it hard. I don’t believe your network will allow you to change things. Actions speak louder than words.”
“When you’re the number one talk show host in the country and have been syndicated worldwide, you tend to have a bit of influence over the direction of your show and the people involved in it.
” There was a hint of pride in her voice, and even he could acknowledge she deserved to feel that way.
“The network knows that my original format is popular. It’s what got me to where I was before it all changed.
I’m having more of a say again, and after the winter break, the show will be going in a new direction. ”
“That’s good,” he said gruffly, but kept his doubts about the truth of her words to himself.
“I know you doubt me.”
“I do.” He walked over to the tree and touched one of the snowflake ornaments Tilly had given him. “Why now?”
“Because the thought of not having my son be a part of my life anymore . . .” She touched his shoulder, and he flinched.
She pulled her hand back. “If I were in your shoes, I’d feel the same.
I miss you, Zach. I love you. It’s always been the two of us, and when it became obvious that you didn’t like me anymore, it was the wake-up call I needed.
All I ask is that you give me a chance. A chance to prove to you that I have changed.
That all that matters is you and your happiness. Will you give me a chance?”
In all his thirty years of life, he could count on one hand the number of times his mom had admitted she was wrong.
Perhaps this period of noncommunication between the two of them was exactly what they’d needed. It gave them both a chance to grow and find out what was important in their relationship.
If he was honest with himself, he missed her. Missed his mom, and he wanted their separation to end.
Turning back, he looked at her. Really looked. Her face was strained, and her blue eyes seemed dull. She was a different person now than the woman he’d seen when he’d walked out of her studio. “I will. But if I think—”
“I promise. It took almost losing you to shock me into looking hard at who I was. I don’t want to be that person again. I didn’t like her.” She held her arms out and he slowly walked into them.
Peace settled over him, and the love he felt for her swelled inside him. He could feel the same emotion coming from her.
No matter how big or how old he was, there was nothing like a hug from his mom.
After a few seconds, he pulled away. There was another person he needed to make amends to. Another woman he loved with all of his soul.
For the first time in hours, he smiled. “Mom, I need a favor.”