Chapter 6
The next afternoon, I’m on the porch with my laptop, sitting in one of the old rockers with my feet perched up on the railing.
I started out working on my renovation budget, but then the numbers started to blur while the steady roll of the ocean tried to lull me to sleep, so I switched gears and spent the last hour looking at tile on the Internet.
Tile is the rabbit hole of all rabbit holes. My eyes are exhausted.
And my brain is elsewhere.
Zach hasn’t been around all day, and a feeling is residing inside me that feels a bit too much like disappointment. I thought for sure I’d run into him on the beach that morning. Nope. Or maybe he’d come around and ask what I was doing for lunch. But that didn’t happen either.
I stretch, glancing toward his half of the duplex.
That’s when the door opens and he steps out.
And my stomach does something ridiculous—a full-on gymnastics routine. Down, woman.
He’s dressed nicer than usual—light blue dress shirt, dark jeans, hair tamed like he actually looked in the mirror before walking out. In one hand he’s holding a small pink gift bag stuffed with tissue paper.
My first thought is date. My second thought is well, of course he has a date, look at him. My third thought, traitorous and annoying, is why do I care so much?
I force myself to sound casual. “Looking good, Draper. Big plans?”
He grins, adjusting the bag. “Dinner with Brooke.”
It takes me a second to catch up. “Oh. That’s amazing. You talked to her?”
“Yep. Called her last night. Took your advice, told her I just wanted to see her. No agenda.” His grin turns almost boyish. “And it worked. She suggested dinner tonight.”
Something warm blooms in my chest. I can see on his face how much this means to him. And it feels good that I played some small role in it. “That’s really sweet. I’m glad.”
“Me too. Not sure why I’m nervous, but I am.” He waves as he heads for the stairs. “Wish me luck.”
“It’ll be great,” I call after him, and I mean it.
For the next couple of hours, I try to refocus on my spreadsheet, then go back to the tile search.
I create a Pinterest board for every room in the house, choosing color palettes and finishes.
Faucets and flooring. Every time I stop to think too much, I catch myself wondering how things are going for Zach.
Is Brooke opening up? Are they laughing? Having fun?
I call my sister and get her voicemail, so I have to leave a message.
“Hey. It’s me. Just wanted to let you know that the first few days at the beach have been good.
I love being able to see the ocean every morning.
..” I hesitate, wondering what to talk about next, and realizing that almost everything I’ve done since I got here is somehow tied to Zach.
“Anyway, I got a chance to look at the house I want. It’s a mess, but I’m even more in love with it.
Auction is in three days. But I’m sure I’ll talk to you before then. That’s the latest. Love you. Bye.”
Headlights sweep across my window and my heart zips up into my throat. Moments later, I hear him walking up the steps. His gait is slower, and heavier—usually, he jogs right up. I get my butt off the couch and glance out the kitchen window. His shoulders are slumped.
I am in so much trouble. I’ve already learned to read his body language.
Still, something has already twisted in me. Before I can overthink it, I slip outside, meeting him halfway between our doors.
“How’d it go?”
He lets out a low breath, running a hand over his hair. “Not great.”
“Oh, no. I’m sorry,” I say softly. Earlier, I felt so good about helping him. Now I feel bad for pushing him into it.
“We had dinner. It started okay—she liked the gift, we talked about her classes. Her roommate. Her new friends. But then…” He shakes his head.
“Her mom came up. Brooke asked about something from when we were still married, and I told her the truth. She didn’t like hearing it.
Said I was being unfair, that I was blaming her mom. ”
“Kids don’t always want the full picture,” I say gently.
Not that I’m a mom. I’m not. But I am an aunt and a sister and a daughter, so I know a few things.
I wanted kids, and so did Michael, but we kept putting it off.
And then it was too late. Maybe we both knew deep down that we weren’t going to last.
“Yeah. I know.” His voice is tight. “But I can’t lie to her either.
I want her to trust me, but I also want to treat her like an adult.
When she was younger, I went out of my way to never say anything even slightly negative about her mom.
Tonight, I didn’t do that. And now I feel like I just… pushed her further away.”
I step closer without meaning to, close enough that the porch light catches the frustration in his eyes. “You didn’t push her away. You showed up. That matters. Even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.”
For a long moment, he just looks at me, like he’s trying to decide whether to believe me. Then he solemnly nods. “Thanks, Jodie.”
I want to hug him. Wrap him up in my arms. The impulse is so strong it surprises me.
It’s like I have a magnet right in the middle of my body and he’s metal, head-to-toe.
I want to squeeze him tight, tell him Brooke will come around, that he deserves better.
I want to turn my head and smell his hair up close.
But I don’t.
Instead, I give him a small smile and step back toward my door. “Try to get some sleep, okay? Tomorrow’s a new day.”
“Yeah.” His voice is rough. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
Inside, I lean against my door again, heart aching in a way I can’t explain.
I shouldn’t be getting attached to him. I shouldn’t care so much about this. But the truth slips in anyway, no matter how I fight it.
I’m already attached. There’s the first rule of flipping—broken.