Zach gave her a grateful smile. “Thanks.”
What to say, Zach wondered, sitting down in one of the hotel chairs. He couldn’t say he had to run home to take care of his mother; he didn’t owe Sam or anyone else an explanation for why he did what he did. There wasn’t much else then. He didn’t even leave his phone number; just a short and to the point message that didn’t expand much on the voice mail he left, with one exception.
Had to leave.I was really looking forward to our walk. I guess it’s just one of those things I’ll have to keep wishing for.
He folded the paper up, slipped it into the crisp envelope, and sealed it shut. The desk clerk took it from him and pointed toward the main entrance. “Your car is waiting out front, Mr. Cohen. I’m sorry you had to cut your stay short, and I hope you’ll return soon.”
With his mind still filled with images of what might have been tonight, Zach thanked her with a half smile and left, crossing the lobby at a swift pace, as if now that he’d decided to leave, he couldn’t wait to get away.
The entire ride home was spent staring out the window into the darkness of the road rushing past. For the first time in years, perhaps forever, Zach resented his mother, resented the life he’d built for himself where everything he did was for the most part to please other people. He was always the good one, the one who could be counted on never to say no when asked for a favor, to be there no matter the inconvenience to himself personally, because of what a nice guy he was.
Marcus wasn’t kidding when he said nice guys finish last, that most guys liked a bastard. Zach had been finishing last all his life and was tired of it—tired of being last on the list for love, last on living his life. There was no one he could blame for his choices but himself. He’d painted himself into the proverbial corner by being so nauseatingly agreeable.
But remembering how his mother had stood with him and supported him through everything, Zach bit down on his resentment; from when he was little and couldn’t understand why no one but Marcus would play with him to when he got older and spent most of his weekends alone at home, helping her with the food shopping and whatever else she needed. She told everyone what a perfect son he was: so helpful and uncomplaining.
How could he ever turn his back on her, even if it all became a bit too much for him to bear?
Despite the uncomfortable ride and the thoughts rolling around in his head, Zach must’ve dozed off at some point because he woke up as the car glided to a stop in front of his house. He scrambled out of the car, reaching back in to grab his overnight bag and unhook his garment bag from where it hung in the back.
“Thanks,” said Zach, peering into the front window at the driver hidden behind tinted glass.
“You’re welcome, sir.” The driver tipped his hat, and the car pulled away from the curb, leaving Zach standing outside his house. The front porch light glinted off the two windows, and Zach could see the inner glow of light from the back of the house, indicating his mother was most likely still awake and in the kitchen waiting for his return.
Though his body still ached pleasantly, as much as Zach hated admitting it, he knew within days, the recollection of Sam’s taste and touch would fade. He wondered how people like Marcus did it; jumped from man to man without any care or feeling. How did a person learn to disassociate the heart from the head?
He thought it would be easy to come home and forget about the encounter with Sam; after all, it was only one night, and they barely knew one another. What Zach didn’t count on was that in leaving Sam, he might have left a little piece of himself behind.
There was no time for him to dwell on this, Zach thought, trudging up the steep front steps of his house. It was what he’d planned on all along, a fun weekend and then back to life as he knew it. And he had no intention of telling the guys; let them think he’d missed out on his opportunity to let loose and have fun. It was more than likely what they expected from him anyway. Without incriminating pictures or some other proof, Zach had no doubt neither Marcus nor Julian would believe that he’d slept with a man he’d just met.
Zach had trouble understanding it himself, but it didn’t matter. He’d have that memory to hug tight when his loneliness got too much to bear in the coming months. He opened the front door and headed to the back of the house and the kitchen, where, as he’d suspected, his mother sat with her ubiquitous cup of coffee, an anxious expression on her face.
“Oh Zach, I’m sorry. I’m such a terrible mother.” The regret in her voice was real; she couldn’t help her fear. It was there, a live force consuming her every day movement, until one day, Zach feared, she may decide it wasn’t worth the pain. He faced her tearful gaze. “I ruined your weekend with my stupidity, didn’t I?”
Ignoring her self-pitying remarks, he bent to kiss her cheek. “Mom, you shouldn’t be up,” said Zach, chiding her gently. He dropped his bag on the floor and draped the garment bag over the empty chair; his father’s chair. “And it’s not a big deal. I didn’t have any plans. Really.” He forced a smile, knowing it would appease her.
And he was correct, watching her anxious look replaced by her smile. It hurt Zach to think his homecoming was the only reason she would be able to rest easy tonight. He sat across from her at the kitchen table, noting the pronounced lines on her face. Lines that grew deeper with each passing year. He’d never forgotten when the police showed up at their house to tell them his father had been struck and killed by a hit-and-run driver; overnight his mother aged, the light and laughter disappearing from her eyes.
“It’s not that late, only a little after twelve thirty. I was watching television.” She indicated the small TV sitting on the wrought-iron baker’s rack. “They have some very interesting shows on late at night; teen pregnancies, joke playing, and naked dating.” Her brow furrowed. “Who thinks up this stuff? Naked dating?” She shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t get your generation at all.”
They shared a laugh, and she gave him a cup of hot coffee. Zach didn’t worry about it keeping him awake; there was little sleep left in him. Most likely he’d be up thinking about Sam, regretting what might have been, what could have been, and what would never come to pass.
Chapter Eight
“Nervous?”
Sam fidgeted with his cutlery. “Why would you say that?” The dinner and ceremony seemed interminable, and all Sam could think of was the night to come, walking on the beach with Zach, and what would come afterward.
Tonight he’d let down his usual guard, and Henry, perhaps sensing that weakness, swooped down on him like a hawk to a field mouse.
Henry smirked. “Oh, maybe because you haven’t stopped staring at Zach Cohen on the stage, and your leg is bouncing around like an out of control spring.”
Shit. That was the problem with having a best friend who not only knew him almost—if not better—than he knew himself, but was an investigator in his own right. Henry may work on computers, but he had that enviable ability to hone in and pick out the one weakness or flaw and, if he chose, exploit it. That, and being married to a woman like Heather, who was the smartest person Sam had ever met, despite—as he liked to tease her—marrying Henry.
“I have an itch.” Sam forced his leg to remain still and reached for a roll from the bread basket.
“Itch my ass. Admit it. You like the guy. I don’t blame you; I already told you I think he’s brilliant. One ofForbes Magazine’s Up and Coming, a millionaire before the age of thirty. Come on.” Henry’s eyes narrowed with a seriousness Sam hadn’t seen since he broke up with Andy. “The guy has it all, and you like what you see.”
Unwilling to engage in conversation any further, Sam chose to butter his roll instead of speaking, but from under lowered lashes his gaze remained focused on Zach, even when other members of their table arrived. He managed to give them all a perfunctory greeting, while keeping an eye on Zach up on the stage. From his body language, Sam sensed Zach wasn’t thrilled to be there, but the audience couldn’t tell from his carefully neutral, pleasant expression. It was an expression Sam sensed Zach had perfected and used much of the time.
