on my feet, I have plans. Big ones. Forget the things holding me back. Forget moving slowly, flirting through texts. I’m going to ask Zoey out officially, and I’m going to make her mine.
Yeah, I am bossy. But I think she does like it.
Just before I drift off, I swear I catch Zoey leaning in closer and taking a deep inhale. Did she just … smell me? But I don’t care because she’s smiling as sleep blankets my mind.
Chapter Fourteen
Zoey
“I don’t understand,” Delilah says in a hushed whisper. “Kids always like me.”
“Well, they always hate me, so you were my last shred of hope.”
We’re both staring at Ella, who has her tiny arms crossed in an act of rebellion that could almost be humorous. Except it’s not. Delilah was supposed to come save me, being the kid whisperer with her happy smile and sweet Southern accent. She was supposed to get Ella to open up or at least warm up. But I swear, if anything, Ella is colder than she was the night before.
Delilah even brought donuts and kolaches as a bribe. Apparently, Ella is on a macro diet, which I had to google on my phone. It essentially means she can’t eat anything easy. Not that there’s anything to eat in Gavin’s house. I’m not convinced the man eats. The inside of the fridge looks like a model home or something. There weren’t even any condiments. What kind of a person doesn’t have at least outdated ketchup in the door of the fridge?
“I’ll try again, but …” Delilah shrugs helplessly, and I know she hates this. She’s used to being liked by everyone. It’s somehow worse being rejected by a kid. I would know since they always seem to find me lacking. I swear, at the last baby shower I went to for some not-so-close college friend, I made an infant cry from across the room just by glancing at her.
Sighing, Delilah sets down her coffee mug and crosses the room. She sits next to Ella. Ella moves to another couch. It’s like a game of musical chairs without the music and without the fun. I shake my head, taking this opportunity to check on Gavin. Walking toward his room, my heart skips out a merry rhythm in direct contrast to the reality of things.
He’s still too old. He’s still my boss. He’s still ill.
And he has a child.
There is a Gavin-shaped lump in the center of his bed, twisted up in the sheets. He didn’t wake up when I slipped away in the middle of the night. If it weren’t for Ella, I would probably have stayed in bed with him and woken up feeling guilty and disappointed in myself. I should have left sooner than I did, but it was a painfully sweet luxury to snuggle with the man whose voice has the power to make my insides shiver with delight and longing.
Because this isn’t my life, getting comfortable in his beautiful house. Snuggling with him in his bed. Running my fingers through his hair and making him beg for more.
Nope. Any time today, his fever is going to break. He’s going to wake up, go back to acting like my boss and I’ll have to rebuild all the walls I carefully constructed over two years. Turns out they were no better than sand, wiped out with the first wave.
Oh, and Gavin will also wake up and learn he has a daughter. I wonder if Ella will hate him as much as she seems to hate everyone else.
I watch Gavin’s chest rise and fall for a few moments, allowing myself to remember how good his hair felt under my fingertips. How nice and solid he felt curled up next to me. Let’s not forget how much better he smelled after his shower.
He never would have allowed any of that if he hadn’t been half out of his mind with fever. I fill his empty glass with water from the bathroom sink and close the door quietly behind me.
It wasn’t real, I remind myself. It wasn’t real. At least, it wasn’t real for Gavin, who might not remember anything at all.
But it was very real for me. Real enough that I pause outside his door and navigate to the website where I’ve had an application drafted for a new job, my resume attached and everything. Today, I click Apply. It should make me feel better, but it makes me feel worse instead.