He took a step toward her, willed her to do the same toward him, but when she didn’t, he closed the distance between them. “I’m sorry about before.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“I’m sorry about being self-centered and crabby and rude before,” he tried again. Now she nodded, a tiny spark of a smile hinting at the edges of her lips. “I had to sort some things out. But I have. I did.” She nodded a second time. “And before youtell me anything else, before we get into whatever this mess is…” He drifted because he was nervous. Jesus, he was fuckingnervous!
He’d rehearsed all of this in the car, what he would say, how he would stride toward her with the confidence of an All-Star, hold her face in his hands and kiss her until her knees went weak. But now, standing in front of her, he felt like a kid in eighth grade, screwing up the nerve at the middle school dance. She blinked, and he snapped out of it. This was Sybil. He had nothing to be nervous about.
“Syb,” he said. “I’m really fucking sorry. And I really fucking missed you.” Then he dipped his head toward hers, tilted her chin up to meet his and kissed her. He’d kissed enough women to know that he caught her by surprise. Not just her, though, him too. The way his blood ran hot, the way his heart thumped in the best of ways, the way his brain stopped with any singular thought excepther.Her. After a beat, Sybil gave into it, too, her body relaxing against his, and he wondered if this was what he needed, they both needed, to finally have some peace. To finally get some rest.
She pulled back first. “Hi.”
“Hi,” he said. “I’ve been wanting to…” He shook his head. “I’ve needed to do that for weeks.” He dipped his head down again, kissed her one more time as if he needed proof. He wanted to tell her that they should get out of here, that they should go somewhere private, that he needed to take off all of her clothes and kiss every last inch of her, but, well, he knew her better than that. He knew that she was here for Betty, and he also knew the best way he could prove himself to her right now was to honor that by helping.
“Excuse me,” the lady behind the counter said. “Can I get you some coffee?”
She had absolutely not a single look of recognition in her eye, and for that Zeke was more than a little grateful. At the airport, he’d taken selfies and written autographs. The rental-car lady checked his driver’s license, then said, “Holy shit,” and he stood there and had to make small talk about how her eight-year-old nephew might be destined for the majors. He just wanted to be normal for a moment, just wanted to be normal with Sybil for more than a moment.
“That would be amazing,” he said. “And a dozen donuts for the road.” He reached for Sybil’s hand: “Do we…should we…do we need to speed it along?”
“I thought your team had you off sugar and refined carbs?” Sybil asked. “And yes, we do.” She bit her lower lip, looking a little stunned, like she couldn’t believe what he’d just done but in a good way. Zeke’s belly stirred with joy. “I just need to finish my coffee. Though I think I probably need to quit.”
“Quit what?” He sank into a booth, and she sank right next to him. He braided his fingers through hers beneath the table.
“All of this. I’m not the intrepid detective I thought I was; I’m certainly not intrepid, and I don’t know why I ever imagined I was a detective. So…can we have five more minutes to sit here?”
“Five minutes to sit here and feel sorry for yourself? Absolutely. I could use some coffee too.”
“I feel as if you’re mocking me,” she said.
“Then you would feel correctly.”
“That’s not very nice. Mocking an old lady when she is down.”
He leaned over. Kissed her again quickly.
“I’m giving you five minutes of pity. I never thought Sybil Bowman needed more than five minutes to accomplish anything. Also, not old.” She rested her head on his shoulder.“Anyway, to your question—I might be off more than just sugar and carbs,” he said. “I might be off the roster.”
It wasn’t quite ninea.m.in Arizona. Someone at the training facility would have noticed his absence. Timothy probably thought he overslept and was on his way to pound on the condo’s front door. In an hour or so, all hell was going to break loose.
Sybil nodded, just once. “Want to talk about it? We have four minutes.”
They untangled their hands, and he sipped the coffee, which was black and hot and felt like gasoline for his bloodstream, in a good way.
“Not particularly,” he said. “But I do want to apologize again.”
“Look,” she sighed, “you do have a right to prioritize yourself. No one can blame you for that.”
“But there are better ways I could have done it. I’m sorry I was cold, that I took it out on you.”
“I told my kids I was leaving their dad by announcing he was fucking his coworker at Thanksgiving,” she said. “Maybe we both need a little reprieve.”
Zeke dipped his head back and laughed, his abdominal muscles seizing, like they had atrophied from lack of happiness in Sybil’s absence.
“Okay,” he said. “But still.”
“Since we’re on the clock, the big bit of news is that there’s a new megachurch in the area,” Sybil said.
“A new…” Zeke started.
