“Thirty-two. And it’s a medical retirement. We don’t talk about it, but he got shot when he was in the Marine Corps. I think he saw a lot of bad stuff there.”
Cleo’s eyes widened. “Wow.”
“Yeah. He has money to go to college if he wants, from the military. But it’s not bugging him that he didn’t go. And I couldn’t care less. When we go out to do stuff, he’s always happy to pay. But I insist we take turns.”
“Of course you do.” Cleo rolled her eyes.
“But that doesn’t bother him. He’s really mellow about a lot of stuff. It’s like he balances me out.”
“That’s great. Still doesn’t answer the question about what you plan to do with the big love bubble in the air.”
“I want to tell him. Should I tell him? What if I do and he doesn’t feel the same? That’s a lot of pressure.”
“Look. Just because you say it doesn’t mean he has to say it back. You’ve always been bold, not afraid to take a risk—at work. Why not apply the same policy at home? That’s logical, right?”
She nodded, thinking. “And it’s something Aubrey would do.” Lately, around Gavin, she felt more okay about her sister’s loss.
Cleo tapped her fingers on the table. “Do you think Aubrey would like him?”
“Yes. I bet she’d have met him and made a play for those delicious glutes from day one,” Zoe teased.
“You got that right. You’re just lucky my heart is already taken.”
“By hunky Mark Swanson, you mean?”
“Hey.” Cleo stuck out a cream-covered tongue.
“Ew.”
“That’s what you get for ruining my sugar high. Yeah, if you put a muzzle over Swanson’s mouth, then he’s a god. But he talks too much and has too high an opinion of himself to ever be Mr. Right.”
“That’s true.”
They sat in silence while the sun blazed overhead, butterflies danced in the garden, and the scent of lavender and honeysuckle mingled in the air.
“You’re going to tell him, aren’t you?”
“I have to. I’m all full inside, and I need to say it. Go big or go home, right?” WWAD—What Would Aubrey Do? She’d tell the man to his face. In big, bold letters.I. Love. You.
Zoe could do that. And she planned to. Later that night.
But when Gavin joined her that evening, they laughed through a really bad Netflix movie. Zombies and zoos and leprechauns were too much to fit on any size screen, big or small. Then Gavin showed her what thechillpart of that idiom should be used for. A glorious interpretation of the number sixty-nine.
After which, Zoe fell asleep and didn’t wake up until her alarm the next day.
* * *
At the early-morning Monday meeting, Cleo asked, “Did you tell him?”
Zoe flushed. “We got distracted.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Monday night followed the same pattern. But this time it was Gavin getting out of the shower and strutting around in front of her that provided the distraction.
Tuesday night, he didn’t sleep over.
Wednesday night, they worked out together, a run around Green Lake that turned into a race. She didn’t like him winning and rubbing her nose in the loss. That was her right as ultimate victor. So she’d challenged him at home in games until she won. Then she made him feel the pain through another night of delayed gratification that had him begging her to finish him.
