Chapter 8
Late Sunday afternoon, Zoe felt odd about having Gavin over. Sure, they’d had a lot of sex Saturday night into the wee hours of the morning. And again after waking up—which had worried her. She’d done her best to think sexy thoughts, hoping her morning breath didn’t scare him away for good. So caught up in what he’d done to her, she hadn’t worried about it a moment more until after they’d finished. And by then she hadn’t cared.
Life had been one exhausting bag of loveliness. Until Piper had seen her walk of shame from the driveway to the house. And man, had her aunt made her pay. Lots ofI told you so’sand laughter at her expense. Still too sated to care, Zoe had only laughed with her.
After waiting on Zoe’s quick shower and then sharing brunch downtown, Piper had left. Zoe had turned to her weekly chores with little enthusiasm, haphazardly cleaning her already clean house while she thought about Gavin.
Who would be joining her later this evening for more sex.
Should she insist on conversation as well? Zoe didn’t know. She hadn’t been so well pleasured in, well, forever. Okay, so they’d gone Mach 10 to orgasm that first time. But then they’d slowed way down. And this morning, he’d had her begging him to take her, going so far as to use the f-word and a few other four-letter ones too, insane to have him inside her.
“Go, me.” She grinned as she straightened up. Talk about the right person to break her dry spell. Gavin not only looked like Prince Charming, but he acted like a perfect gentleman. He took charge in bed, just the way she liked.
She got goose bumps remembering how he’d held her hands over her head while he slid in and out of her with way too much patience…
She shivered and finished throwing the laundry in the dryer. Then she gave a full-body sigh. Time to stop thinking about sex and focus on the day-to-day. Monday crept all too near.
More gardening, a quick salad for dinner. Which she might as well not have made, for all that her appetite had deserted her.
That damn Gavin Donnigan. What a dreamboat and pain in the ass all in one. He was her own personal Two-Face, but much more handsome than the Gotham archvillain.
Aubrey totally would have loved him. Gavin had a lot of her qualities. He was fun-loving, humorous, laid-back. But that distance when he’d mentioned his time in the Marine Corps. Zoe found that part of him fascinating. Like her, he tried to control his grief. Whatever he’d been through, it had seriously bothered him. So as much as she’d wanted to pry, she hadn’t. Oddly though, she felt like they shared grief in common.
What a wacky thing to be glad about—a similarity in experiencing sorrow.
A glance at the picture of her and Aubrey, arm in arm and smiling, brought forth memories.
Teasing, theHe’s your boyfriendgame, spiking each other’s eggnog at Christmas while teens and trying not to get caught. So many wonderful things they were going to experience. But Aubrey would never walk down an aisle in a funky, fashionable, nontraditional gown. She’d never hold the baby she’d planned to name Zoey “with ay.” And she’d never grow old with Zoe, sharing the rest of their lives together, the high and lows, the firsts and lasts.
God, that hurt so much. To lose that zest and joy in life Aubrey had possessed in abundance.
The guilt that she remained alive while Aubrey lay dead returned. If one of them should have had to go, it should have been Zoe. The too-serious twin. The hard-ass who didn’t know how to laugh at life, too busy making plans to cover even her eventual death.
Hell, she’d been the one to make her family plan for the future. She’d been the one who’d invested in a plot where the family could lie in rest together. And here she stood, staring at a picture of the funnier, more-adventurous twin while Aubrey entertained the world no longer.
Tears trickled down her cheeks.
“God, Aubrey. I miss you. You should be here with Gavin. Not me.”
Even as she said it, she knew she was being overly dramatic and ridiculous. Aubrey would kick her ass for thinking like that.Life was for living, not planning for an early grave, she’d liked to say.
“Guess I showed you,” Zoe said through a watery laugh.
Determined to stop being such a wuss, she turned to more pragmatic thoughts, the kind that might help her adjust to the here and now. So she put away her grief and numbed her mind with next week’s schedule. After running through her work calendar and figuring in a girls’ night with Cleo, where they could talk about everything over wine—yet another thing she could no longer do with Aubrey—Zoe’s thoughts once again turned to Gavin.
When she saw him at the gym later in the week—because no way in hell would she stop going just because they’d played the old slap-and-tickle—should she pretend not to know him? Or would they be adults about the relationship and acknowledge each other? Should she high-five Megan, Michelle, and the others because she’d joined their not-so-elite club?
The petty thought both ashamed and amused her.
“Gavin’s casual one-night stands on the left and two-nighters on the right.” She wondered about his prior relationships. From what she’d overheard a time or two in the steam room, his lady friends had enjoyed a casual time, but not much else. Michelle and Megan had crassly compared notes. Neither had been thrilled that he hadn’t come back for a second “date.” But they’d been hot to point out how well-endowed and talented he was in the sack, even if he hadn’t stuck around to talk afterward.
They had that part right, at least. But no way had she been treated to any kind of dine and dash. She smirked at the thought.
She had a right to know about his sexual past and planned to ask him about it. He liked her honesty. Well, she’d see how much.
Two hours later, when he rang her bell at eight on the dot, she let him in. And just stared. “Er, you dressed up for me?”
He grinned. “You like? It’s a Mac special.”
