you won’t let me in here”—she tapped my temples lightly—“is a bit too much for me right now.”
With that, she slid off me, picking up her discarded clothing and the mess I’d made of the mail, then leaving me to my own shitty thoughts and a letter I needed to burn.
We stayed in Colorado as November rolled into December. I liked it here, where we were far from the cameras and the tabloids. The only parties included ugly Christmas sweaters, from which I abstained, choosing to wear a sweatshirt I’d had made of Jeremiah’s face.
Zoe’s mother laughed her head off, drawing every eye in the crowded community center.
Naomi drew a mustache on her husband’s printed face.
Zoe rolled her eyes and told me she wouldn’t kiss me while her brother’s face was rubbing up against her, so I ditched it twenty minutes into the party. Nothing was worth missing out on Zoe’s kisses.
I stealthily avoided Peter, who never let an opportunity pass without suggesting he join Hush Note on backup guitar. Apparently, he wasn’t aware that Jonas currently occupied that position.
“So, when are you two headed back to Seattle?” Naomi asked, sipping on whatever green liquid filled the punch bowl.
Zoe turned a questioning gaze up at me. “Oh, I don’t know. Nix, when are we going back to Seattle?” It was a discussion we had every few days.
“When we feel like it.” Was I hindering her from scouting out new bands? Probably. Was I blatantly using any excuse I had to stay here with her in our little snow globe? Absolutely. I was twenty-three weeks sober and in no rush to jump back into the lifestyle that jeopardized that. Plus, living in Colorado had the added bonus of living with Zoe—an issue that would eventually rear its head when we went back.
“Such a defined answer,” Naomi teased.
“Is this sarcasm from the same woman who walked into the kitchen counter when she first met me?” I wrapped my arm around Zoe’s shoulders.
“That was before I knew you. Sigh. The good old days.”
“Your family is mean,” I complained to Zoe.
“At least you know my family. We’ve been together for—” Her eyes popped wide, and she pressed her lips between her teeth.
Ah, yes, the together label she’d studiously avoided using when dancing around the topic of our relationship. That little ache in my chest flared up at how worried she looked, so I went through a quick comparison in my head to Quinn and Jonas, who were the only examples I had.
Zoe and I lived together. Slept together. Fought both for and against each other, depending on the subject and day. Grocery shopped together. Watched movies together. Showered together. I didn’t want anyone else and didn’t see that changing anytime soon…or at all. We were here together, and we’d go back to Seattle together. Yeah, we were together. At least we’d better be after my lawyers threw a shit fit while arranging her Christmas present.
“Months,” I said softly. “We’ve been together for months. And trust me, you’re not missing anything when it comes to my mother. Now, how about you let me take you home so we can go be…together again.”
“You’re lucky my dad is across the room.” Zoe smiled.
“I’m lucky for far more reasons than that.” I pulled her closer.
“I’m lucky you’re leaving, because you two are nauseating,” Jeremiah interrupted, coming into our little circle with a sleepy Levi on his shoulder. “And don’t talk about my little sister like that.” He shivered. “I mean, I get it. You’re a tatted-up rocker, but come on. There are families around and you’re using words like ‘together.’”
“Shut up.” Zoe rolled her eyes. “You guys headed home?”
“Levi needs to go to bed,” Naomi said with a nod.
“And Daddy needs to be together with Mommy,” Jeremiah said, wiggling his eyebrows at his wife.
“Eww.” Zoe cringed.
“And on that note.” I hefted her over my shoulder, applauded myself for not smacking her ass, then carried her to the coatroom, successfully avoiding both Peter and his wife.
Naomi and Jeremiah followed us out.
“Crap, I forgot my purse,” Naomi said over the stack of Tupperware containers she carried.
“Coatroom?” Jeremiah asked.
Naomi nodded. “Left-hand side.”
“Here, I’ll take him,” I said, stepping forward to take Levi out of his arms.
“You sure?” Jeremiah asked.
“I won’t drop him,” I promised.
“Thanks.” Jeremiah transferred the sleeping boy to my arms, and I carried him the rest of the way to their car, then buckled him into his car seat with a few quick motions.