Page 74 of Zach


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that you might…” I wave my hand vaguely around the belly, then in the air behind my butt.

I shouldn’t be out in public. Ever.

Zach’s voice is choked. “Have lactose intolerance and be on the verge of shitting myself? No, I’m

good. Thanks for your concern, though.”

“Yes, well, sure.” Meeting his grinning eyes, some of my frustration with myself dissipates. “I am

sorry. Sometimes I get uncomfortable, and words just bubble up.”

“Is that what I have to look forward to the first time I take you to a work function?”

“Oh god, no. I swear I know how to behave at things like that. They’re not my favorite things to go

to, but I can handle them.”

“Then why was tonight so hard?”

“Because it is,” I say, frowning at him. “There are rules for business functions. Small talk,

business talk, all that is easy. But tonight? I didn’t know what the rules were…though apparently,

there weren’t any. So I struggle.”

“Are you like this in all social situations?” He asks curiously. It’s the lack of judgment in his tone

that allows me to answer honestly.

“I’m never really in social situations. Other than dinner with Cara and Bree, I’ve never been to a

gathering like this.”

His eyes widen, mouth opening to…I don’t know. We’re interrupted by the doors opening.

Glancing out, I see the abstract art piece on the wall on my floor and step out of the elevator.

“Well, goodnight. Thanks for escorting me home. I’ll see you on Monday.” I wave and dash to my

door.

“Maya,” he says quietly, so quietly I freeze, not wanting to miss anything he has to say. “You’re

welcome at family dinner anytime.” I frown at him, and he shakes his head. “I mean it. Anytime.”

I give him a pained smile and reach for my door handle. He growls and pushes his hands through

his hair. It doesn’t land right back in place like it usually does. He looks a little messy. A little more

human. “You’re not wearing a suit,” I say with a gasp, staring at his sweatpants. They’re expensive,

tailored sweatpants, but still sweatpants.

“You’re just noticing that now?”

I push my hair back over my shoulder. “Yes, well, I was distracted before. By the adorable little

person. Then there was the screaming and all the rest of it. You look nice like this,” I say, waving at