The Single Life with Zola Patterson Part 2 - Danielle Allen Page 0,45

just as the waiter returned.

“We haven’t had a chance to look at the menu, but could we start with the home fries.”

“I’ll put that in and give you some more time.” The waiter gave us each a nod. “It’ll be out soon.”

When we were alone again, Jordan studied my face. “What is going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about that book you gave me,” I started slowly. “It was my father’s favorite book.”

“Oh wow!”

“I know.” I smiled; happy he saw the significance. “And I’ve been thinking about how much you remind me of him.”

He rubbed his fingers over my hand. “That’s either a really good thing or a really bad thing depending on your relationship with him.”

“Psychology was our thing.”

“And what happened?”

I was quiet. I thought I was ready to tell him more, but the words wouldn’t form.

“I’d always said that I wasn’t going to settle down unless I felt like a man was Dad-approved,” I confessed, squeezing his hand back. “And between our conversations and the book, I just can’t help but feel—”

“Was that Zola?” a woman’s voice interrupted my sentence. It wasn’t just my name, but the sharp tone that caught my attention. I turned my head, glancing over my shoulder to see a woman with short blue hair rushing toward the exit.

Heaven?

The woman was wearing something different than what I’d seen Heaven in an hour before. But between the blue hair was distinct and the voice that said my name, my gut was telling me it was Heaven. It didn’t make much sense for it to be her. And if she saw me, she would’ve said something.

Unless she thought I was cheating on her brother.

The thought popped in my head quickly and I shook it off. The idea that Saint’s sister saw me with another man made the pit in my stomach grow. The nerves from my conversation with Jordan turned into stones of agony weighing me down.

I’m going to be sick.

“You can’t help but feel what, Zola?” Jordan asked, bringing me back to the conversation with him.

I swallowed hard. “I need to go to the restroom. Please excuse me.”

I rushed in the direction of the bathroom and dry heaved as soon as I was in a stall. Nothing came up. Taking a deep breath, I went to the mirror and looked at myself.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I wondered aloud.

Pulling out my phone, I called Saint. He didn’t answer and I could only imagine that he was on the phone with his sisters. I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed they didn’t say anything before I had a chance to talk to him.

I took a deep breath. “The only person’s bullshit you ever have to deal with is your own,” I mumbled under my breath. For some reason, Darius’s words wouldn’t leave my mind.

I need to deal with my bullshit.

The man I had feelings for was going to think I’d cheated on him within the first seventy-two hours of us being together. The man that was so obviously Dad-approved upheld a promise I made long ago. They both made sense for different reasons. I’d wanted to choose Saint the whole time but knowing that my dad sent Jordan my way made it hard.

I needed to call my mom.

“Hi Zola,” my mom answered the phone groggily.

“I’m sorry, Mom. Did I wake you?”

“It’s fine. I shouldn’t sleep on the couch anyway. What’s going on? How are you?”

My eyes filled with tears. “I met someone.”

“I remember.”

“No,” I whispered. “I met someone and I… I met someone special. His name is Saint. He’s a nurse—”

“I like him already,” Mom joked.

I smiled. “Yes, he’s a nurse like you. And then I met Jordan. He is the one I was telling you about.”

“The psychology one?”

“Yes,” I confirmed. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who to choose. I don’t… I don’t know, Mom.”

“Who do you like more?”

“Saint,” I answered with no hesitation.

“My dear sweet Zola, I think you have your answer.”

I started pacing the bathroom. “But what about the promise I made? I feel like Dad sent Jordan my way.”

“All you and Jordan talk about is psychology stuff, right?”

“Yes.”

“Have you told him about your father?”

My brows furrowed. “No.”

“You talk to this man—this man that you think is a sign from your father—about psychology and you’ve never mentioned him?”

I stopped in my tracks. “No…”

“Have you talked to Saint about your father?”

I looked at my reflection in the mirror. “Yeah. A little.”

“You keep talking