Right behind the embarrassment that stuck to me like honey on my fingers was worry. As we walked down the busy street, my mother hooking glances over her shoulder every few minutes and Zelda's body brushing against mine as we weaved through crowds, I found myself spiraling into all-out anxiety. I'd crossed every line in the book, then found the sequel and crossed those lines too.
What did I do and how do I fix it?
The itchy reality was I couldn't run the office on my own anymore and if Zelda was even half as proficient at management as she was at riding herd on me, I'd survive until I could get someone with an accounting background in there.
And then, maybe we could… No, probably not. Anything I might've interpreted as attraction was an illusion. Chemistry was a product of whiskey for breakfast and muscle relaxers for supper. This wasn't real. Zelda was a kind, affectionate woman who needed to get better at establishing boundaries.
Actually, yes—that was the issue. Zelda should not have done any of this. Just because I was a mess didn't require her to clean me up. She wasn't my mother or my siblings. There was no earthly reason for her to take me to the doctor, bring me home, and then get into bed with me. Jesus, no. That was on her. That was her inserting herself into my problems and it was completely unnecessary.
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 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?"