overdue for a conversation, if Gavin wants to talk with me. This is one we need to have in person. But the only problem is that Gavin’s at the ranch, while I’m hours away in Austin. And it can’t wait until morning.
When the idea comes to me, I’m shocked at its simplicity, but unsure if I can call in this favor. Giving my dad a last squeeze, I jump up and pull Thayden’s business card from my purse.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Gavin
I’m brooding like I’m a teenage boy after he’s been dumped. Which is exactly how I feel, so my reaction seems appropriate.
It’s been exactly six hours and seventeen minutes since Zoey hopped on a plane with my good buddy—sarcasm intended—and deserted me. I should be sleeping. Instead, I’m sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of decaf and listening to my mother fret around the kitchen, cleaning up while pretending she’s not trying to cheer me up.
I reread Zoey’s text again, the words cutting me the same way every time. She left. And she quit on me two ways, as Ella’s nanny (which was never my idea anyway) and at Morgan-Beckwith. Even though that shouldn’t matter to me, even though I had planned to sell Morgan-Beckwith soon, it felt like a betrayal. Why didn’t she tell me first? Or even tell me yesterday or this morning? I feel weary from the thoughts stamping around my mind.
“She’ll come around,” Mama says, patting me on the shoulder.
“Maybe I don’t want her to.” I cross my arms over my chest. Now I’m a petulant child, younger than a moody teenager.
Mama clucks her tongue, brushing a wayward curl back from her face. “Now, don’t let your pride start taking charge. Let me ask you this: did you tell Zoey how you felt?”
I told her a lot of things I hadn’t even meant to in the barn, revealing more of my feelings than I meant to. But I didn’t ask her for a commitment. We didn’t talk about a future, or even what we are in this present moment. I could blame it on the fact that things were so unusual, what with my sickness and Ella.
“It’s only been a few days. I can hardly tell the woman I’m in love with her.”
“Sure you can,” Mama says. “You just open your big mouth and say it. ‘I love you, Zoey.’ See? Not hard.”
I shake my head. “Everything happened too fast.”
“Sounds to me like it’s been building for years and only just now blossomed. Nothing wrong with that. All of our timelines are different.”
“Easy for you to say. You and Daddy dated through college before getting married.”
Mom leans her elbows on the counter, a damp rag in her hand from where she’s been wiping the same spot for the last ten minutes. “That’s our story. Slow and sweet. You know that Patty and her husband got married after knowing each other only a week.”
“A week?!”
“Mm-hm. Lasted fifty years together, all the way up until he died. Loved each other and probably fought too, just like your daddy and I did. Maybe your story is unconventional in a few ways.”
I snort. “More than a few.”
Mama tosses the damp rag at my head, and I barely manage to catch it.
“Are you going to let that stop you? Ages and timing and all that? Where’s my stubborn boy who wouldn’t let go of what he loves?”
“She let go of me,” I point out.
Mama only rolls her eyes. “Don’t blame the girl for being scared. But I can tell you that more often than not, a woman running like that, running scared, needs to know you’d chase her down.”
“I’m not chasing her.”
“Suit yourself.” She turns her back, rinsing dishes that I think I just saw her dry moments before. I can see her irritation in the way her curls are bouncing with the force of her movements.
Maybe she’s right. Mama often is, even when she’s not. I learned that lesson in childhood. But in this, I do think she’s right.
Zoey was thrown into this with me, first when I got sick and texted her after ruining our date. Then, when Ella showed up, and I pressured Zoey into coming with me to meet my parents. I see now that Zoey asking to have a contract in place probably offered her some protection, a feeling of safety. We went from boss and employee to something like an instant family, complete with child and meeting the parents.