"Would you just shut up and let me have you?"
She held herself still for a moment before softening and sliding her hands up and down my back. "You're too sweet, Ash. Sweeter than you let on. But you don't have to worry about me or my WOAT childhood. I'm okay. Really."
"What does that mean?"
"Weirdest of all time," she replied.
"Oh, well, that's handy. And I'm not worrying. I'm—" What the hell was I supposed to tell her? That I'd be her family and my siblings and parents could be hers too, and I'd keep her safe and loved? No. No way in hell. Those weren't words I could speak, not today. Not in a parking lot. Not yet. "Thirsty. And undercaffeinated. I really do need an iced coffee."
"Oh, honey. You are so special." She patted my back as she said this and I pressed my lips to her neck, just the way she liked. "Don't stress over it, okay? How someone grows up is only one piece in their puzzle. There are so many other pieces that make them into a whole person. Mine was super weird and yours was free-range, and now you're dangerously close to giving me a hickey in an off-ramp shopping plaza parking lot which is one way of saying we came from different worlds and landed in the same place."
"Yeah," I said to her neck. "What are the odds?"
"Are you asking me to run the probability? Because you know I can."
"I am not challenging your competence, love."
I stared at her lips because it was the closest thing to kissing her without actually doing it.Not here, not yet.
"Then let's get you caffeinated." She took my hand and led me into the shop. "That's one thing I can do without fail."
One thing we weren't was simple. No, Zelda and I were as complex as any two people with a shot glass full of history could be. Maybe we were past complex and there was no sense trying to force us into a simpler state of being. But I knew I couldn't kiss her right now. It was the one line I'd drawn, the one intended to keep complex from slipping into chaos. Because if I kissed her, I'd want to kiss her back at my place too—also known as the land of beds. And if we fell into bed together, I didn't trust us to ever leave.
That wasn't something I could afford. It was no exaggeration. My ass needed to be in my desk chair, turning out audit reports and churning through financial documents. I didn't have anyone to delegate any of it to—not that I'd ever met anyone I trusted with much of anything. The sad, boring truth was I didn't have time to keep a woman in bed with me for days on end.
What if the bed doesn't matter? What if keeping her is all that really matters?
My car was small but I'd never fully comprehended that fact until I had Zeldaright therebeside me. And that skirt, my god. Who knew an ankle-length skirt had the power to ruin me? I wanted to reach over and drag it up. Better yet, I wanted to watchherdrag it up. Tease me while I couldn't look away from the road.
And that was the thing about being around Zelda—she made me irresponsible. She made me forget every obligation I'd ever accepted. She helped me ignore the lines between airplane seatmates, between boss and employee, between roommates, between temporary saviors. She pushed me to chase the things I wanted rather than the things expected of me. She granted me permission to touch her and be close to her and be vulnerable with her, and I—I didn't know the right way to handle that. I didn't want to do it wrong. Icouldn't.
But goddamn I wanted to kiss her. To shove my fingers through her hair and take her lips the way she deserved. To twist those fingers into a fist, pin her down, claim my place between her legs.
Holy fuck. What the hell was that and where did it come from? Fuck.Fuuuuuuck.
I was certain of little but it wasn't about the shitshow family. That just pushed it over the edge. It also confirmed a few things for me.
First, Zelda was not leaving my apartment. She wasn't going anywhere. Whichever random friend was willing to put her up could forget the offer. Zelda's days of couch surfing were over.
Second—and most importantly—we'd make this ill-fitting job work. I was keeping her and I didn't care if that meant I still needed to find a competent auditing assistant. We'd make it work. I was unwilling to accept any other option.
* * *
My mothercompletely ignored me when Zelda and I arrived at my childhood home in New Bedford. She swatted my hand away from Zelda's lower back and scooped my girl into a tight mama squeeze. I had to work overtime to prevent myself from cutting in and snatching her back.
I'd meant what I'd said earlier: I didn't share—and I didn't care if I sounded like a pouty child because my mother was busy hugging the life out of Zelda.
As if my mother could hear my thoughts, she clucked at me over Zelda's shoulder. "Stop it, Ash. You can spare Miss Zelda for a minute. I promise I'll give her back." She lifted her palms to Zelda's cheeks, framing her face and grinning at her. "Look at those beautiful eyes. I don't believe I've ever seen anything like it."
"Thank you," Zelda replied.
"Blue and green," my mother continued. "How very special and lovely, just like the rest of you." She patted Zelda's cheeks with the kind of fondness that killed most of my possessive scowl because yes, Zelda was special and lovely and it was about time everyone noticed. "I'm so happy you didn't allow my son to talk you out of joining us today."
"Thank you for having me." She aimed a conspiratorial smile in my direction. "And for what it's worth, I didn't let him try very hard."
If my mother hadn't already fallen for Zelda in the tailor's shop, she fell here and now. She slapped her hand on her thigh, muttered, "Hot damn, honey, I like you," and linked arms with Zelda, steering her deeper into the house.
They went back and forth at my expense before my mother transitioned to explaining how she'd recovered the dining room chair cushions by herself, crediting the wonders of YouTube and staple guns for her success.
