Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
Zev’s large hand feels strange and foreign in my own—not bad. Just new, just different. Maybe it’s because Zev’s hand is in mine while Robert, and his hold that I know so well, stands across from us.
“What are you doing in Tesoro?” I say, a small laugh bubbling from my throat. Robert is in a suit again—man, he looks good in a suit.
“I’m on a job. Structural engineer.” He lifts his shoulder in a shrug. “I’m working on the parking garage that’s going here.”
“Oh. Wow.” I hold my breath for a second. “What a crazy coincidence. Isn’t that crazy?” I say, looking at Zev, as if he’ll readily agree with me.
“Crazy,” Zev mutters, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, his hand in mine tightens its hold. No doubt he is confused by my odd actions, but to his credit, he doesn’t act it.
I need Zev to play along. See, Robert is married and happy and successful, while I can’t even remember attending my best friend’s wedding. So, Zev is my key to not looking like the pathetic oaf that I actually am.
“Robert, this is Zev, my—” I swallow because I’ve finally made a friend, one outside the insanity that is my current life, and I might be ruining it with this next word. “Boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend?” Robert says, and there’s a lilt in his tone that tells me he’s surprised. Or unhappy. Or unhappily surprised.
I’m not sure.
Zev is three inches taller than Robert and built like an ox. He’s got a face that says, Hey, Robert. Your ex isn’t pathetic at all. She got me, didn’t she?
“That’s right,” Zev says. Bless him. He is playing along.
“Boyfriend.” Then he slips his arm around my waist and pulls me to his side.
Maybe Zev’s an actor. I don’t actually know what the man does for a living.
I’ve never asked. If I ask him, then he might ask me, and that’s a complicated story I don’t feel like sharing.
So, of course, Robert reads my mind and says, “And what does Zev do?” He looks at me—he’s asking me. Because something deep inside Robert knows that I’m lying, and this one question is going to give me away.
“He is an athlete,” I say, using Fran’s husband and Zev’s shoulders as inspiration.
Zev coughs, choking on nothing but my insane story.
“A soccer player. He’s a pretty big deal.”
Zev’s arm around me tightens.
“Amazing, right?” I laugh—it’s false and foreign, and doesn’t sound right to any of us. Yep, just that laugh tells Robert that I’m a big fat liar.
But Robert does not call me on my lies. He looks at Zev, who doesn’t dispute anything I’ve said about his job. Zev’s body certainly doesn’t doubt the possibility—the man is built.
“Well, that’s something,” Robert says.
“It really is.” Zev sounds a little annoyed. Why wouldn’t he be? I’m out here putting him in an awkward position, telling lies about him and his life.
“Zev!” the food truckie calls.
I fling a hand toward the truck. “Oh, your food.”
“It can wait,” Zev says, brows cinched as he looks at me.
“Don’t be silly.” I’m certain he’s uncomfortable. The least I can do is allow him some space before he tells me we’re done being friends. “Grab it.” I release his fingers, resting my hand on his forearm—holy, that’s one solid forearm. “I’ll be right here.”
He nods, then, without missing a beat, Zev leans in, playing his part perfectly and pecks a kiss to my cheek. Mint wafts into my senses and my mouth goes dry.
“We should get together sometime,” Robert says once Zev has taken two steps away from us.
Robert wants to get together? I don’t remember being apart until these last few months—so, while I know that Fran and Grammy would disapprove, I can’t help but smile.
I don’t have time to answer before Zev is back with an entire pizza. He holds onto it with one hand and gives Robert a curt smile before wrapping his other arm around my back. “Goodbye.”
I’m not sure what I said or did to make him hostile toward Robert, but I suppose he’s playing his part of the jealous boyfriend.
“Uh. Yeah. Bye, Rosalie. I’ll see you around,” Robert says, without waiting for an answer to his question, like we bump into each other every day.
Zev leads me back to the picnic table, setting his large box next to my small one.
I sit and Zev scoots in beside me on the very same bench. He’s still acting, so I glance back. Sure enough, Robert is still watching. Wow. Zev is good at this.
My heart thumps at seeing Robert—again.
Zev grunts beside me, bringing me back to the present and what I’ve done.
“Oh, Zev,” I whisper, peering up at him. “I am so sorry. Please say we can still be friends. Please.”
“It’s fine,” he says, but he looks very much less than fine.
“No, really. I need you to know I’m not a liar. Not normally.”
“I know that.” He flings open his pizza box lid.
“You don’t really, but that’s beside the point. Hey—” I rest one hand on that thick forearm. “Can I explain?”
He looks down at me. He’s quiet. He’s got that sad expression again.
“I promise. I am not a liar. But that man—that’s my boyfriend—”
Another grunt from Zev. “Your ex.”
“Yeah. The one I told you about. You aren’t over your last girlfriend.
So, on some level, you understand this—” I need to tread lightly; there’s a very good chance Zev’s last girlfriend passed away, and I don’t want to be insensitive.
“See, I’m not over Robert.” I lick my lips.
“I just didn’t want to look like a pathetic woman who still doesn’t have her life together. ”
“You aren’t pathetic.”
I grit my teeth in a not-so-pretty smile. “Except that I am. And I’m sorry I got you involved.”
“I don’t care about that.”
I cover my face with my hands. “I know. I said all those things about you.” I shake my head and let my hands fall to the table.
I turn in my seat, as much as the picnic table will allow, and take one of Zev’s hands in mine.
“I wasn’t trying to dismiss whatever it is you actually do for a living.
It’s just that Robert is this super successful engineer, and then he directed his question at me, and well—my best friend’s husband is a soccer player.
It just came out. I didn’t know what else to say.
I’m sorry.” I squeeze his fingers. As confusing as my life is right now, I know I don’t want to lose my new friend. “Can you forgive me?”
He sighs. “Rosalie.”
“It won’t happen again.” I wiggle in my seat. “I mean, unless we see Robert, and then it might happen again. Just being honest.” I bite down on my bottom lip and sigh. “Zev, you had no idea you were forming a friendship with an insane person, did you?”
He snuffs out a laugh. “You aren’t insane.”
“I’m not exactly stable,” I mutter.
“It’s okay,” Zev says. “Really.” Then he leans down and pecks my cheek once more. My cheeks warm with a blush, and I’m filled with mint once more, but when I peek back, Robert is long gone.
I blow out a long, tired breath. “I can’t believe I saw him again.” My heart beats and I press a hand to my thumping chest. My lips twitch with a repressed grin. “And he wants to get together.”
Zev stops chewing at my words. “Are you kidding?”
“No.” The word is breathless—I can’t believe it either. “That’s what he said.”
Zev’s lip curls and he sniffs out irritably. “What a jerk.”
“Excuse me?” Uncomfortable pricks make their way over my body. “You don’t even know him.”
“I know that he’s married, and he believes you have a boyfriend.”
I blink. I hadn’t thought about that. Just Robert, looking at me again. “How would you know if he’s married or not?”
“Ring,” he says, sounding so much more pissed about Robert wanting to see me than me fabricating his entire life story. How does any of that make sense?
“Okay… So what?” I say, in full defense mode now. “So, he wants to be friends.”
“That’s not what he wants,” Zev growls. “A man and a woman—”
I balk. “We’re friends.” I point to him. “Man.” Then to myself. “Woman. And we’re friends. Why is it different for Robert?”
“A married man does not ask out another woman. And he doesn’t look at her like that man looked at you. At least a decent man doesn’t.” Zev scoffs out a humorless laugh. “That man is a scumbag.”
“Whoa. You are assuming a whole lot, Mr. Hayes.” Gah! Why do I keep calling him that? “You don’t know him. You barely know me. You don’t get to stand here and call a perfect stranger a scumbag.”
“Fine. Well, I’m leaving.” He stands and shoves his hands into his pockets. “I have somewhere to be.”
“Fine,” I say, as if I couldn’t care less.
Except that part of me does care. And while Zev doesn’t know me well.
He is my sexy reader friend with insane forearms and amazing shoulders who brought me the most delicious soup and read to me when I felt like crud.
He’s the one piece of my life that doesn’t have to wonder if I remember the right things or not.
I like having that piece. “Will I see you again?” I say, very aware that I sound desperate.
He sighs. “Yes, Rosalie. You’ll see me again. This is an argument. Not the end of our friendship.”
I nod, grateful, but already feeling the emptiness of my deserted table and pizza for one.