“I don’t have friends. Well,” I qualify with a wince, “I sort of have one friend. But I haven’t
talked to her in a while. But I’m not used to so much…input into my life. I appreciate your intentions.
I do. But going from being the sole decision maker in my life to having people withopinionsis more
challenging than I expected.”
Cara’s eyes soften, and she nods. “Get used to it,” she says with a wink, then turns and strolls off
to Declan’s office.
Get used to it. Good advice.I’ll just get used to it. Because now that I have a taste for life as a
normal person, one with friends and a social life…and a man friend, I don’t think I ever want to go
back.
28
ZACH
H er skin is so soft. Maybe all women’s hands are like this, but I can’t remember any touch but
Maya’s. She’s staring out the window, seemingly lost in thought, but her fingers are playing
over my palm, maintaining a connection to me. I sit back, unbutton my jacket, and just look at
her, the passing city a blur over her shoulder.
I haven’t done this much, just look. Before, it was all about the chase. I could always find
something about a woman to compliment, but it was vague…their hair, their smile. I never spent the
time with them to truly see them, not like I do Maya.
I amuse myself by tracing my eyes over all my favorite freckles. She doesn’t have a lot of them,
not like Becca, but the few she does have are positioned in all my favorite places. There’s the one
right behind her ear. I can’t wait for the opportunity to press my lips against it. Then a little further
down, another, right where her neck meets her shoulder. And the last one, my favorite, is the little dot
right at the neckline of her dress over her left breast.
If it weren’t for the hideous dresses, the view would be the best in the world. Ok, maybe even
with the dress, it’s still the best view. When did Maya’s face become the only one I want to look at? I
need her eyes on me, so I give her hand a playful tug. She turns to me with a distracted smile.
“You ok?”
She looks down at our joined hands, then up at Luis. “Why do you use a driver all the time? Do
you have a car?”
Her question rattles through me, bouncing off memory after memory. This has been who I am for
