Zane’s laughter filled the car.
Tessa waited until he got control of himself to continue. “Can’t it be both?”
“No, Princess. It can’t.” The words were serious, but with a deep thrum of humor and an undeniable vein of affection. “Spit it out.”
“I have two cousins who I’m close to. They don’t understand my choices. When I went to India for the funeral, they pulled me aside and begged me to find different employment. Something safer. Went on and on about how if I loved my mother and my family, I’d do whatever I could to protect myself. And that if I refused to do this, they had to wonder if I had some kind of death wish. Was I depressed? Was I trying to hurt everyone with my early demise?”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. And, as you know, I was slipping further and further into my alcoholism at the time, so the words hit me in a tender place. And that place hasn’t healed.”
There was not a trace of humor when Zane spoke. “I never believed you had a death wish. Not even when I knew you were hungover. Not when I could see you losing your hold. Not when you called me to get you from that hotel. Do you believe me?”
“Yes.” She didn’t have to ponder that. She knew he meant every word. “I think it hurts because I wonder if there’s some truth to it. If I chose to push boundaries and drive myself to be the best I could possibly be in a dangerous profession because I figured I would either succeed or die in the attempt. And that if I failed, death would be preferable to living with the failure.”
Zane shifted in his seat. “Do you think that now? Death is better than failure?”
Tessa took a few moments to consider Zane’s question. She couldn’t give him a flippant answer. Not about this. “No. I don’t. I know I’m valued for who I am, not for what I accomplish. Andthe people in my life who know me, who love me, will continue to do so regardless of whether I guard the president or a junkyard. But it has taken a while to get to this point.”
Zane glanced at his watch and then stretched his hands in front of him. “You know what we need?”
“What?”
“Milkshakes.”
“Milkshakes?”
He gave her a pleading look. “Come on, Tess. You know you want one. It’s not that far out of the way.”
“Are we getting them to go?”
“No.” Zane’s response was quick. “We’re going to order them and enjoy them. And then when we’re done, we’re going to walk around the metropolis of Pittsboro and enjoy the sunshine of a beautiful fall day. Then we’ll drive back to Raleigh and deal with whatever we’re facing.”
“Zane—”
“I’m not ready to go back. Can’t we take an hour to just be together?”
His words knocked the emotional wind out of her. She had no idea what was happening. Didn’t want to give herself permission to even think about it too much or it might disappear like a mirage. But if Zane Thacker wanted to spend time alone with her, she wasn’t going to try to talk him out of it. “Milkshakes it is.”
13
ZANE HAD NOIDEAwhat he was doing. Was he on a date with Tessa? No.
But maybe yes?
No.
Except when they sat down at the soda shop in Pittsboro—a tiny town with the best milkshakes in the state—Zane had to fight the urge to reach across the table and tug on Tessa’s hand until she intertwined her fingers with his.
The planned shakes turned into cheeseburgers, fries, and shakes, because neither of them had eaten enough over the past few hours. The tension in the car, the heavy topics, the words said and unsaid—none of that joined them at the table. Tessa relaxed, and when she relaxed, she could be hilarious. She had a sly sense of humor. One that had made him enjoy verbally sparring with her from the first day.
“Tell me how it’s going in DC, and don’t make me drag it out of you. I don’t want any of your macho manspeak.” She pointed her milkshake at him. “I want the truth.”
“You can’t handle the truth.”
Tessa rolled her eyes at his pitiful Jack Nicholson impression. “Spit. It. Out.”
“It’s fine.”
