Chapter 8 #2
I wouldn't have woken up with a lead pipe for a dick if she hadn't been in my bed, all soft and warm and sweet enough to eat. She shouldn't have done that. Shouldn't have made me feel all…this.
Her hand brushed down my spine as she turned toward me and edged closer, out of the way of a large group incapable of modulating themselves to keep from mowing down other pedestrians. With my arm—the one not lashed to my body in this circus act sling—I tucked her against me.
It took me a full minute to realize what I'd done.
Zelda made one move and I checkmated the shit out of it, regardless of the arguments I'd patchworked together.
"You don't have to do this." I spoke these words with my lips pressed to her temple and my arm locking her body against mine, but I still said them. "You can skip this fitting. It's not a big deal."
She gazed up at me, a curious bend to her eyebrows. "Is that so? Not long ago you were singing a different tune, my friend."
I shook my head as I put space between us. "I did but this isn't mission critical."
"Yeah, that's not how your sister would describe this," Zelda replied, laughing.
My mother glanced back at us, a delighted grin splitting her face all over again.
"It's not critical to my accounting practice and that's the only kind of critical you need to care about," I said, and I sounded like a jackass saying it. "I have it under control, Zelda. You don't have to tag along for this."
She stopped walking. I did the same.
She crossed her arms over her chest as she peered up at me. "This is what you do, right? This is part of it."
I ran my hand through my hair. "Part of what, Zelda?"
"Part of you and your moods," she replied simply.
"When you're not busy being serious and seriouser, you wiggle between hot and cold.
It's okay. I get it. You've spent all this time learning how to be super good at your job—probably because you got it in your head you have something to prove—and when you're not doing your job, you don't know who you are. "
"That—that's not the case," I argued. "I can understand how you might think that but—"
"But you only know two ways to be when you're not being the boss man: hot and cold," she continued.
"You had some hot last night and this morning"—she sent a wide-eyed, brows-raised, tight-lipped grin at the sidewalk—"and now you remember how uncomfortable the heat makes you. Cold is so much easier, right?"
She stared at me, bobbing her head as she waited on my reply. I didn't say anything.
"See? It's easier like this. Just standing on a sidewalk, looking grumpy and inconvenienced. It's your thing, Ashville. You're much more comfortable in the chill because it's closer to your boss man vibe. It's okay, Ash. I get it."
"You—I'm sorry, what?" No boundaries. Not a single one with this woman. "You get…what, exactly?"
With an indulgent sigh, she wrapped her hand around my forearm. "You. I get you."
"Charming," I said with a bitter laugh. "Pick that skill up at the voodoo shop, did you?"
After another indulgent sigh, Zelda said, "It would be so cool if you could tell me what's really bothering you.
I could guess but we're already behind schedule because you needed an entire hen-house-worth of eggs and I don't think your sister is loving the delay.
" She tipped her head down the street, where my mother and Magnolia were watching us.
"While it's not your norm, you could take this moment to be real with me about your feelings. "
"I know I'm not paying you to watch me try on suits," I snapped. "I don't rely on feelings to make decisions, Miss Besh."
"Wow," she breathed, rocking back on her heels. "Wow. Whatever is happening in there"—she glanced to my forehead—"it's big stuff. It's real heavy if we're all the way back at Miss Besh."
"Ash!" Magnolia shouted, furiously gesturing to her wrist. "Let's go, dude."
Zelda set off toward my mother and sister, leaving me gazing after her.
"Come on," she called, not looking back in my direction. "We'll unpack this later."
I shuffled after her, not caring whether I was being petulant. "Nothing to unpack," I muttered.
She waited for me at the door to the tailor's shop, her hand covering the handle and her gaze clear, all the heat and joy and amusement I'd come to expect from her absent.
"Let's straighten a few things out before we go in there," she said, jerking her chin toward the shop.
"Most importantly, you need to fight fair.
I'll fight with you all day long but only when you do it fair.
Don't throw my so-called voodoo shop experience back at me because I recognize you and your eccentricities and all the little mood hurricanes swirling around inside your head. Don't do that shit."
I nodded. "Fine but I'd like you to stop unpacking me. I don't like it."
"Okay," she said. "I'll mention that I'm only telling you what I see but hey, it's cool. You don't want to be seen. You want to distract everyone by being above reproach. No problem."
"You're doing it right now," I said. "This. What you're doing. I don't like it. I never asked you to know me and my eccentricities. Okay? That's not part of the gig. I need someone who can handle my schedule and clean up spreadsheets, not a fucking life coach."
Zelda paused for a second, studying the passing cars and people before saying, "Your mother thinks we're going to get married and give her a fleet of grandbabies. As there is nothing further from the truth and she's your mother, you need to fix that."
"All right. I will," I replied. "What else do we need to discuss?"
"Nothing." Still focused on the street, she said, "You go inside. I'm going to stay here and make some calls."
Because I was a goddamn fool who felt entitled to everything about this woman and didn't want her out of my sight for a minute, I asked, "What calls do you need to make on a Saturday morning?"
"I need to find a place to stay tonight," she replied. "And…the rest of the week."
I stared at her for a moment, searching her face as she eyed the swarm of Lyfts and Ubers. "If you hadn't—um—if last night hadn't been what it was, where would you have stayed?"
Her shoulders lifted, fell. "Not sure. I was going to figure that out when the flight landed.
See if any friends had a free couch." Another shrug.
"That's the beauty of having friends from college and grad school.
Everyone knows someone and someone always has a free couch.
" She shot me a quick, hollow grin before turning a gorgeous, glowing smile on a couple walking a pair of chocolate Labs.
After they passed, she said, "I'll figure it out. It's what I do best."
I was a goddamn fool and I was entitled, and I didn't fight fair and I was an eccentric, moody hurricane.
And I didn't understand the first thing about my reactions to Zelda.
I didn't know why my stomach dropped to my toes at the thought of her not knowing where she'd spend the night.
I couldn't explain why my skin prickled cold when she insisted she always figured it out.
And there was no justifying my decision to announce, "I have an extra room. You'll stay with me."