Chapter 9 Zoey
ZOEY
“Who was that?” my sister asks when I pick my phone back up from the counter.
“Lizzy.”
“Lizzy?”
“Hunter’s sister.”
She clicks her tongue and follows it with a few hoots. “And?”
“And what?”
“What did she want?”
“She wants me to go with them to Chinatown for dinner.”
“I hope you said yes.”
I sigh as I pour myself another cup of coffee, barely awake even though it’s the afternoon. “I did.”
“Excellent. What are you going to wear?”
“It’s not a pageant, Lulu.”
“It’s a date.”
“It’s not,” I fire back as I lift the coffee mug to my lips. “A date doesn’t consist of his child and sister.”
“It’s the closest thing you’ve had to a date in a long time. What are you going to wear?” she asks again.
“Jeans and a sweater,” I answer, knowing she won’t relent unless I give her something.
“The red sweater.”
“No.”
“Yes. The red sweater.”
“The gray one.”
“You look too washed out in the gray one.”
“I’ve got to go,” I tell her.
“Wear the red one,” she says again.
“Byeeee,” I call out before I hit the end button, silencing the ridiculous conversation.
I wouldn’t admit it to my sister, but I am going to wear the red sweater. I have two hours to make myself presentable. I barely slept last night because I was overtired, and today, I look more like a zombie than a human being.
Somehow, I am ready by the time there is a knock on the front door. Here goes nothing.
“This is Chinatown,” I say, turning around to face the three of them.
The look of shock on their faces is immediately evident.
Wide eyes. Gaping mouths. Silence. Living here my entire life, I forget not every city has its own Chinatown.
And Chicago’s is elite. It isn’t half-assed with a few Chinese restaurants.
There are more restaurants than you could eat at in a week, along with stores selling all types of goods.
The signs are in Chinese. It feels like you are stepping into another world, and I love everything about it.
“Wow,” Lizzy says, blinking a few times, like her eyes are betraying her. “This is…”
“Amazing,” Hunter whispers as he reaches out, taking Amira’s hand.
“They have fried rice,” she says with the biggest smile on her face as she glances up at Hunter.
“They do, sweetheart,” he tells her.
Lizzy stalks up to me and loops her arm in mine. “Thanks for coming,” she says as we start to move again, winding through the people dotting the sidewalk.
“I’m hungry,” Amira whines from behind us.
“Let’s get the kid fed, and then we can explore,” Lizzy says, and I can’t disagree with her.
Am I in the mood to eat yet? No. But do I want to make the kid starve because my stomach hasn’t caught up with the fact that I am awake and need nourishment? That is an even bigger no.
“Is the restaurant far?” Lizzy asks.
“No. It’s at the end of the street,” I explain.
“I’m glad my brother has such a sweet neighbor.”
I give her a tight smile. She’s exactly like Lulu, sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong.
“Hunter likes to pretend he wanted to move here, but he really had no choice. Natalie didn’t think about anyone except herself when she decided to relocate. She ripped Amira out of the cute little life she had in our small town and plopped her right into the middle of this big city.”
“I can’t imagine moving as a kid or even as an adult. This has always been my home. It had to be hard on her.”
“Kids are resilient. She’s done well with the move and seems to love her new school. But I worry about Hunter. It’s harder to make friends and connections as an adult. This wasn’t a move he made by choice, but out of necessity. He wanted to be by his child.”
“I respect that.” I motion toward the sign above the door to the Evergreen. “We’re here,” I announce.
Amira practically bounces as she lets out a little screech. She’s a kid after my own heart when it comes to food. I’ve been a foodie my entire life, and the variety of cuisine, along with the sheer number of restaurants, in Chicago makes it all possible.
The restaurant is busier than I thought it would be at this hour. Half the tables are full, and there’s a small crowd waiting to be seated.
“This place smells amazing,” Lizzy says as she stands at my side while we wait to talk to the hostess.
“It is. Best in town,” I tell her as my stomach grumbles, coming alive once again.
There is a bit of awkward silence as we wait, but as we’re walking to the table, Amira announces, “Daddy, I want to sit next to Aunt Lizzy.”
“Whatever you want, you get,” Lizzy tells her, not letting Hunter answer.
We’re brought to a booth, and my belly flips a little at Hunter’s proximity as we slide into our spots across from Lizzy and Amira.
As soon as we take off our coats, I can feel the heat radiating off him. The man is like a furnace, which would be nice to have beside me on a cold winter night.
Don’t go there, Zoey.
I clear my throat, trying to pull my thoughts back to the present. Food. Sister. Little kid.
“Is Mommy going to be okay?” Amira asks out of nowhere.
Hunter sets down his menu and looks at his little girl. Lizzy freezes, her eyes wide as they lock on her brother.
“She’ll be okay, sweetheart,” he tells her with a soft, sweet tone, but his body is as rigid as a bowstring.
“Is she going to die?” she asks, staring down at her fingers as she picks at her nails.
My heart squeezes in my chest, and I realize there’s something going on that I’m totally clueless about. Maybe that’s why Hunter moved to Chicago. They dropped hints, but I hadn’t picked up on it completely until now.
He reaches across the table, placing his hands on top of hers. “She’s doing everything in her power to get well again, Amira. The doctors are working as hard as they can to make her better,” he replies.
Amira sniffles as she hangs her head. “She’s so sick, Daddy. Almost every day, she’s too tired to do anything, and she barely eats.”
My eyes begin to water. Kids see everything, whether people think they do or not. They hear it all too. No matter how hard we try to hide things to spare them the misery, they know.
“That’s from the medicine. Her body’s using all her energy to make her better,” he explains.
“Miranda’s mom died,” Amira says.
“Who’s Miranda?” Lizzy asks, wrapping an arm around Amira’s shoulders.
“A girl in my class,” she tells her aunt as she leans against her, needing the physical comfort.
“Sometimes things happen, sweetheart,” Hunter says after pausing for a moment.
I wouldn’t even know where to start with this conversation. How you can be honest with a child and not scare the living daylights out of them is beyond me or my maturity level.
My thoughts slip to my uncle Angelo, along with Tate and Brax. They were so young when they lost their mother to cancer. I don’t know how he dealt with everything. Maybe Hunter could talk to Angelo since my uncle walked the same path decades ago.
I don’t know why I do it, but I slide my hand over to Hunter’s, hidden away under the table, and squeeze.
He immediately squeezes back, almost deflating, like my mere touch helped release some of the pent-up tension inside him.
A woman walks up to the table, interrupting the difficult conversation and asks to take our order. But for some reason, I don’t pull my hand back immediately.
If I’m honest, holding his hand feels natural, and I also don’t want to be rude. I need to pull it back without it being impolite or noticeable to the two people across the table from us.
“Veggie fried rice,” Amira says first, not giving anyone else a chance to order. She’s adorable and reminds me so much of myself when I was little. The smile on her face is nice to see after such a heavy conversation.
“I’ll take the same,” I tell the waitress. The last thing I need tonight is to be weighed down by a lot of food.
Hunter and Lizzy order next, and I can feel the tension return as soon as the waitress walks away. We’re all waiting for Amira to ask more questions about her mother’s illness, but to our surprise, she doesn’t.
“You know who likes fried rice?” Amira asks, glancing up from the drawing she’s working on.
“Who?” Hunter asks her.
“Bryant,” Amira answers.
“Fuck my life,” Hunter whispers.
I glance at him and find a pained look on his face. “Who’s Bryant?” I ask him.
“My boyfriend,” Amira replies in a sugary-sweet tone, not realizing how much that answer bothers her father.
Ah. First crushes. I remember mine from elementary school. Anthony Garabaldi. It lasted a week, and we never even had a chance to hold hands. He dumped me because Sara Wexler shared a brownie with him. It didn’t take much back then for love to bloom. Just a little dessert.
And thank goodness first crushes don’t turn into long-term relationships, because I’ve run into Anthony over the years, and I dodged a huge bullet.
“He shares his cookies with her,” Lizzy explains.
“That’s sweet of him,” I say, giving Amira a smile when she glances up at me again. “Boys don’t usually like to share their sweets.”
“Not you too,” Hunter says, shaking his head.
“Hey, you guys are usually the ones taking the cookies and not the ones to share them. So, maybe Bryant is one of the good ones,” Lizzy replies.
“I have to agree with your sister,” I tell him, holding in a giggle because this entire conversation is upsetting to him, which is understandable.
I remember how upset my dad was about every single boy I liked when I was a kid. The man was always in a panic, but between Lulu and me, we wore him down over the years.
Hunter rolls his eyes and lets out a grunt. “You two have a very low bar.”
“What does a bar have to do with it?” Amira asks her father.
“It’s hard to explain,” he tells her.
“It means it doesn’t take much to make us happy,” Lizzy says, answering the question easily, unlike Hunter.
“Cookies make me happy,” Amira replies.
“You’re just like your daddy,” Lizzy says as she leans over and places a kiss on top of Amira’s head.
I give Hunter’s hand another squeeze and release my grip, sliding my hand over to my side of the booth while Amira and Lizzy are focused on each other.
Hunter turns his head, staring at me for a beat, and from the look on his face, I’d say he didn’t want me to do that.
And the problem is, I didn’t like letting go of him either.