57. Zeb
ZEB
I wait outside the entrance to the café. I don’t want to go in and be seated in case Ember backs out on our lunch date. I offered to pick her up, since it’s one of our days off, but she said she’d meet me here.
Griffin told me how it went when he poured his heart out to Ember, so I know I’m pressing my luck. Part of me feels like it’s piling on for me to talk to her about my feelings, when she’s clearly already struggling with all these emotions; but another part of me feels her slipping away, like if we don’t act now she’ll be gone forever. And that’s too big a risk to take.
Relief flows through me when I see her approaching. Relief and nerves. “Thanks for coming,” I say, and hold the door open.
Ember seems nervous too, which makes me feel better even though it shouldn’t. On the other hand, she’s quieter than normal, which makes me feel like shit. Most of the trouble in her life comes from us guys.
After we place our orders, I steel myself and dive in. “I told you a little bit about my family.”
Her face softens. “Yes.”
“Our dad never dated after our mom died. I think he must have loved her, in his way, but he never showed it. He never talked about her, there were no photographs, nothing. It was like she never existed.”
Ember reaches out and gives my hand a squeeze. “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry, Zeb.”
I shrug a shoulder. “Point is, I never had anything to go on for how couples are supposed to act, besides the crap on tv. When I got old enough to date myself, my first few experiences were … not that great.”
Drinking some of my water lets me stall for a little longer, and then it’s confession time. “I decided, based on how my dad acted, that my parents’ marriage must have been bad, though I didn’t actually know that. And then based on my own experiences, I decided it was all bullshit. Dating, romance, marriage, all of it. Something people made up to sell sappy greeting cards. A waste of time.”
“I can understand that,” she says softly.
I plow ahead, trying to finish before I chicken out. “So I made up my mind that sex was fine—basic biology and all that—but I was never going to bother with the rest of it. Never make a commitment to anyone or get into a serious relationship. And I never have, never wanted to.”
Looking up, I meet her eyes. “Until you.”
She sucks in a breath, and looks so vulnerable that I want to vault across the table and just hold her. But I need to say the rest of it. “You’re different, Ember. And I’m different when I’m with you.”
Now it’s my turn to reach for her hand. “Give us another chance. Please. At least think about it.”
Her eyes get shiny with unshed tears.
Shit. Fuck. “You don’t have to answer now,” I say quickly. “Just—think about it.”
And then, like a coward, I stand up, throw enough money on the table to cover the tab and the tip, and walk out before our food even shows up.