One of These Nights (27 page)

Zoe arched as the world narrowed to a single, tiny point . . . and then burst, sending her flying into a shimmering abyss. She clenched around him, heard him moan, and then there was nothing but wave after wave of the kind of intense pleasure she'd never expected to feel—because she hadn't imagined it could actually exist until now. Jason covered her body with his own, hips still moving, prolonging the sweet agony of her release until she could do nothing but lie beneath him, shivering a little as the waves subsided. Jason slowed, then stilled. For a few long moments, there was nothing but the plaintive wail of a saxophone and the sound of their own breathing.

Jason rose just a little on his elbows to look down at her, taking a moment to brush her curls away from her face with a tenderness that Zoe felt take root deep in her chest, only enhancing what already grew there. Then, without a word, he pressed his lips softly to her forehead, the tip of her nose, her cheek . . . her lips.

Zoe threaded her fingers through his waves, drinking in the sight of his face, which was at once familiar and wonderfully new. Words formed on the tip of her tongue, and she had to swallow them back. It wasn't right yet. She wasn't ready. But that didn't make them any less true.

I love you,
she thought, and felt it resonate in every corner of her soul.
I love you. And I feel like I've been waiting to do just that for a very long time.

If Jason sensed the direction of her thoughts, he gave no sign. He said nothing at all except her name, whispered like a prayer. It might mean nothing . . . or it might mean everything.

“Zoe.” Then he kissed her again and pulled her against him, wrapping himself around her until Zoe felt as though there was nothing in the world but him, and her, and the hope that while she quietly loved him, Jason might be quietly loving her right back.

“S
o, when do I get to meet him?”

“I don't know, Mama. How about you come visit and you can meet him then?” Zoe held the phone between her shoulder and her ear while she poured herself a cup of tea. She talked to her mother several times a week, filling her in on the details she couldn't quite get her to come witness firsthand. They'd always been close, and Zoe loved sharing all the little things with her, both the triumphs and the complaints. But lately she'd been asking about Jason with increasing interest and Zoe didn't have any fresh answers for her.

Yes, she was finally dating someone. Yes, he was gainfully employed. No, he wasn't a serial killer. And was it serious? Well . . . maybe. Hopefully. Things were good. Really good, actually. Which was what made her nervous and left her wanting to say as little as possible so she wouldn't jinx it. Fortunately, her mother decided to make her usual excuses instead of prying further.

“Honey, we just can't travel right now, and Harvest Cove is far. James is coming to visit us this week. Why don't you come down, too? I'd love to have two of my kids under one roof again for a few days.”

“I wish I could.” Zoe sighed. “I have that big show coming up next weekend for Aaron.”

“Oh, I'll have to call him and wish him luck! You give him a hug for me!” her mother said, and Zoe smiled. Aaron had video chatted with her parents before, and Miriam Watson had adored him at first sight. The feeling was mutual . . . Aaron didn't have much of a relationship with his own parents, so Zoe thought he liked having a surrogate mama he could call up if he needed one.

“You know what would be even better? If you came here to give him that hug yourself!” Zoe replied. Her mother simply tsked, and Zoe knew this round would go much the same as the hundreds of others had. Her parents hated to travel. Their kids were all over the place. Hence, they sat tight and waited for people to come to them. So far, the strategy had worked beautifully. For
them
. As proud as she knew her parents were of her, Zoe wished they would come see what she'd built in person.

Someday,
she told herself, and hoped it was true.

“You need to get him on video chat if you're thinking about keeping him,” Miriam said. “I want to be able to weigh in.”

“Interrogate him, you mean.” Zoe laughed. “I remember.”

“It isn't my fault if you never liked to date boys who were any good at answering questions. Is this one better at it?”

Zoe thought about Jason, whom she was taking to Sereni-Tea in an hour—much against his better judgment—and tried to imagine his response to being peppered with personal questions. “I doubt it. He's not much of a talker until you get to know him.”

“Then bring him
down
. I'll ply him with my famous peach pie, and he'll tell me everything before an hour's up.”

“Mama. I've only been seeing him for three weeks. Give it some time.”

“Hmm. You've been talking about this one for a lot longer than that. You've had plenty of time. And since you didn't deny it . . . you
are
thinking about keeping him. I know you.”

Zoe gave a soft hmph, but the denial would be pointless. Her mother knew her too well, and there was no reason to lie about it. Keeping Jason . . . yeah, she thought about it. Far more than she should. Falling this hard and fast was like something she'd see in one of her movies and nothing she really believed happened in real life. It made her suspicious. But that didn't seem to matter . . . Her heart was in the driver's seat, for once, and it scared the hell out of her.

Especially because Jason had done nothing to indicate he was anywhere near declaring his undying devotion to her. Or even agreeing to come to Aaron's show with her, which rankled far more than she ought to let it.

Her mother seemed to be waiting for an answer. “Yes,” Zoe finally said. “I think about it sometimes. We'll see.”

“So, what's the problem?” her mother asked. “You still fighting over silly things like his shoes?”

“No. We argued about his getting a haircut, which I don't think I'm going to get him to do until that cast comes off this Friday and he can start working again. We also argued about him trying sushi, which is a battle I won because he liked the things that are fried. But the shoes haven't come up.”

A soft chuckle. “Stubborn, sounds like.”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Is his mother talking to him yet?”

“No.” She always asked—they'd hashed over that situation more times than Zoe could count—but the answer stayed the same. As far as she knew, there was nothing but silence from Florida. Maybe that was for the best, though she knew it bothered him sometimes, even if he never said much.

Reading Jason, she'd discovered, was something of an art. One she was still learning.

“Well, that's a shame,” her mother said. “It sounds like she's missing out on a very nice young man.”

Hearing Jason described that way made Zoe smile, but she supposed it was true enough. Jason was a very nice young man. When he wanted to be. And . . . sometimes she enjoyed it when he wasn't. Zoe cleared her throat.

“Yes. It's a wonder he turned out so well. He's not perfect, Mama.” If by some miracle they ever met, she didn't want her mother to be expecting Prince Charming. Not that Zoe would want him if he was.

“As long as he's good to you, that's all that matters. I hope you found him a suit for Aaron's show. He can't go in those sweatpants you keep complaining about.”

“W—ah, yeah. He's got a suit,” Zoe said. She thought. She assumed. Not that she had any idea whether he'd be wearing it to the show, or attending the show at all. She'd broached the topic several times now, but all she got was evasion. He didn't seem to get the fact that not only did she want to show him off; she wanted him to be a part of things that were important to her. The gallery, her artists, this show, were very important.

It wasn't just his shyness, reserve . . . whatever she might call it. There was more, but she didn't know what. And as much progress as they'd made, there were still barriers he wasn't ready to let her broach. It was frustrating. But when had that ever sped him up?

“You got awfully quiet. Is everything okay, honey? If he's not treating you well—”

“Oh no, he is,” Zoe said. “It's nothing like that. I've just got a lot on my plate with this show, like I said, and Jason is Jason. We'll figure it out.”

“You will,” her mother said gently. “You know your father still drives me crazy, and I love him dearly.”

The memories of the two of them teasing each other, bickering, and laughing flooded Zoe with the homesickness she'd been fending off for the past month. “I miss you, Mama.”

“I miss you, too, baby. Come home when James is here. After your show. You'll need some rest, and we can complain about these men we let give us fits.”

Zoe laughed. “Maybe. If you promise to at least think about coming to see me here at Christmas, if I can get my brothers together. We could have it here.” It was just a passing thought, but once she'd articulated it, Zoe found she wanted it very badly. Having her big, noisy family here would be a gift. And then they could meet Jason . . . if he didn't suddenly find a bunch of excuses to disappear on her.

She wished she had more faith that he wouldn't. But the one time she'd brought it up in passing, he'd changed the subject.
Not ready.
That was the message she was getting loud and clear. Not ready, and she couldn't push him to be. So as hard as it was, she was trying to let him move at his own glacially slow pace. Or maybe it just seemed glacial because she was already so certain of what she wanted.

Love is patient,
she told herself.
Love is kind.

Love is really damn annoying.

“Well, if you made that happen we would have to think about it,” her mother conceded. “But it would take a miracle for those boys to all be in the same place at the same time these days. At least Theo is moving back to New York.”

“I know! I'll be so glad to be able to call him without worrying about the time difference.” Theo had been working for an architectural firm in Paris for the past few years, but his job had finally brought him back to the States. It wasn't a bad drive from the Cove, and Zoe was looking forward to teasing him about whatever European affects he'd picked up. Because it was Theo, and he
definitely
had.

Zoe looked at the clock on the stove. “I've got to go pick him up. The cast comes off Friday, and I think he might just pull a Forrest Gump and run off across the country.”

“Okay, baby. Love you.”

“Love you, too, Mama.”

She hung up, flooded with the same bittersweet jumble of emotions she had been feeling more and more frequently lately. She ought to be happy. She had so much goodness in her life. But something was missing, some integral piece. Her parents . . . she missed them so much, but that wasn't all. She wanted what they had together. It was so simple and so complicated, all at the same time. Because she'd fallen in love with Treebeard, and he couldn't do simple if he tried.

Maybe today would be the day she found a way to make Jason understand how much it would mean to her if he let her get just a little closer, so she could pull him not just into her bed, but all the way into her life.

*   *   *

The phone started ringing while he was waiting for Zoe to arrive and looking longingly at his truck.

Just a few more days,
he thought.
A few more days, and I can drive anywhere I want. California. Texas. The gas station.

He was enjoying the simple fantasy of parking at the Fresh Pride to get his own groceries when the buzzing of his cell interrupted his thoughts. Jason frowned, and the frown only deepened when he saw who it was. He debated answering it for a few seconds, but ultimately, he accepted it with a sigh.

“Tommy. Been a while. How are things?”

“Like you don't know. All Mom does is complain about her trip up there. Couldn't you have just sucked it up and been nice to her for a few weeks? It would have gotten her off my ass.”

The self-centered complaining was normal. The bite in his brother's voice over their mother, though . . . that was new.

“I'd be nice if she could be nice back,” Jason said. “But if she hasn't figured that out by now, she isn't going to. All it does is make you look better, so why are you complaining?”

Tommy snorted. “I'm complaining because for once, you and I have the same problem. Things are getting serious with Angela.”

“Angela . . .” Jason tried to remember the last picture Tommy had texted him of whomever he was dating. They all blended into a sea of bleached hair and bikinis, but he had some vague recollection of the current flame. He just hadn't realized she was still current. “Okay. You're still with her?”

“Yeah, and Mom has suddenly discovered a million things that are wrong with her. Angela needs to cover up a little better. Angela needs to learn to cook for you. Angela ought to wear less makeup. People will think you're marrying a tramp.”

“You're getting married?” Jason asked. He tried not to take any satisfaction in the fact that his brother was getting a taste of what Jason had put up with for years, but he couldn't manage it. The golden boy finally wanted to settle down. And Molly was having none of the idea that she'd be relegated to second place.

“Probably. If I can get the hell away from Mom long enough to do it. Angela and I were going to take a cruise. Who do you think booked herself a ticket?”

Jason winced. “Uh, sorry?”

“Yeah, me, too. This is bullshit.”

“I'm familiar with it. I did have a wife once.” His jaw tightened. “I'm sure you remember that.”

Tommy was typically blasé. “Yeah, well, she's long gone, and I'm the one with the problem. It's not like you're getting married again anytime soon. Mom said this new chick is a cold fish.”

Jason began to flex his fist. “You just got done telling me that she called your soon-to-be-fiancée a tramp, but you'll take her word on Zoe. You're not seeing the disconnect there at all.”

“She was right about Sara, though.”

Jason took a deep breath. This shit was old news, and it could still manage to ruin his day. “No. No, she wasn't, no matter how hard she tried to make it look like she was. I'm pretty sure Mom was part of why Sara left, actually. You might want to think about that.” She hadn't been the whole reason, or even the biggest reason. But Jason had always known it was there, and he had never been able to stop resenting the hell out of it.

And he couldn't resist adding, because it still rankled, “You didn't hate her too much. Or do you not remember the split lip I gave you when she told me you'd called her at work?”

Tommy's voice hardened. “Because apparently I wasn't allowed to make friends with my sister-in-law. I was looking for lunch, not a hotel room. And you wonder why I don't call. You're still a goddamn Neanderthal.”

“She was beautiful and smart, and you couldn't have her. It pissed you off. Just like everything you can't have. Noticing that doesn't make me a Neanderthal; it just means I've got eyes in my head.”

“You're so fucking bitter. You always were.”

Jason drew in a slow breath. He wanted to erase this conversation from his life and go on about his day like it had never happened. But he couldn't, because he couldn't erase his family. Finally, he said, “I can be bitter, sure. But I get to live my own life. You get cruises with Mom. In the end, I think I got the better deal.”

“Bullshit,” Tommy spat. “I don't deserve this shit.” And in that moment he sounded like the snotty fourteen-year-old kid who'd rubbed it in Henry FitzRoy's face every chance he got that Fitz would never be a starter as long as Tommy was on the team. After all, hadn't the coach heard a rumor that Fitz was kind of a pothead? That he talked smack about the other players? That he was a lousy sport? Where did he think that had come from, if not Coach's new buddy Molly Evans? And there was more where that came from if Fitz thought about fighting back . . . There was always more.