Zoe answered with an eye-roll.
“Actually, Zen is pretty cute,” Courtney said.
“Who’s Zen?”
“The guy Jesse wants to set you up with.”
“No, thank you.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not dating an actor. Especially one whose name makes him sound boring.”
“Zen is not boring.”
“Do you know him?”
“No, but I was talking about the definition of the word, not the actual person. And he’s not an actor, he’s a stuntman.”
“Even worse.”
“Ugh. You’re so lame. You’re like a thirty-four-year-old senior citizen.”
And you’re a twenty-six-year-old teenager.But Zoe didn’t say the words. She didn’t want to hurt her sister the way Courtney had hurt her. Besides, Courtney had missed out on a lot of teenage fun because of Laurel. Fifteen-year-old Courtney had planned to put the baby up for adoption, but when Laurel had arrived, no one in their family had wanted to see her go.
“Oh! There’s your hunky neighbor!” Courtney sat up and waved.
Zoe finished loading the donuts into the box and looked up to see Ethan and Hannah on the sidewalk. Hannah caught her eye and smiled.
“Don’t call him that,” Zoe whispered.
“Why not? It’s the truth. You find him cute, don’t you?”
Hannah rattled the door.
Straightening and placing her hands on her hips, Zoe frowned at her neighbors. “I must have locked it already.” She made it sound like an unfixable problem.
“Pooh! Then I’ll unlock it.” Courtney bounced from her chair.
Zoe watched her sister cross the room. When they were younger, people had often confused them, even though Courtney was eight years younger. They both had long blond hair and blue eyes and were medium height. But as they’d aged, Zoe had grown curvy while Courtney remained lean. Laurel was a carbon copy of her mother, but instead of being a white-blonde, her hair had a touch of red, making her a strawberry blonde.
Sometimes people mistook Zoe for Laurel’s mom. When this happened, Zoe didn’t correct them. Sometimes she felt like a mother to both Courtney and Laurel.
“Hey you, cuties,” Courtney said, pulling open the door and waving Ethan and Hannah inside. “Are you here for the leftover donuts?”
Hannah, whose face was already beaming, took her smile up a notch. “Leftover donuts? Like free?”
Ethan put his hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Don’t be a beggar.”
“She’s not a beggar,” Courtney said, going to her donut stash. “Really, you’d be doing us a favor. Zoe doesn’t want them—do you, Zo?”
Ethan shot Zoe a worried glance.
Zoe’s throat felt tight. “If everyone knew I was giving away donuts at the end of the day, no one would ever buy any.”
“I don’t believe that for one minute,” Ethan said. “Donuts are impulse purchases. When you need a donut, you have to have a donut. You’re not likely to wait until the end of the day.”
“Go ahead, take one,” Courtney urged, pushing the box closer to him.
