Zane answered before Freya could, “Her work is sold in galleries all over the world. Remember, the painting in my apartment?”
“Right, of course. That painting is delightful. I guess I didn’t realize you were serious that art was her occupation and not her hobby.” Long silence. His father refolded his napkin, draping it over his lap at a slightly different angle.
After a painfully awkward pause, their food arrived, and the excuse for continued silence was well timed. Smoked duck over a spring mix, plus a side of chowder; he was thrilled they shut up long enough for him to enjoy his meal. By the time he’d downed everything on his plate and ate the last of Freya’s fish, his father had finished a quarter of his half-burger.
Swallowing a bite, his mother asked, “Zane, are you planning to go back to school?”
Brow scrunched in utter confusion, he shook his head. “No…”
“Oh. Okay. I wondered. I mean, I would imagine that you are too rusty to go straight back into architecture, and there’s probably not much demand for such specialized expertise in Foothills, but you could work remotely.”
“I don’t want to be an architect now, any more than I did fourteen years ago.”
His father set down his burger and dabbed the cloth napkin on the corner of his mouth. “Then why did you study architecture? I mean, I know you joined the Navy for time to reflect and to save some money, but we always assumed you would return to the field.”
Leaning back in his chair, Zane folded his arms over his chest and chewed his cheek to keep his mouth shut. His gaze shifted out the window, watching the tourists hike up the paved trail.
Again the enthusiastic duo that had encouraged him to study architecture to begin with, his mother took her turn. “If Foothills is where you want to settle, then you’ll make it work. I mean, you already have the degree, plus we would be happy to help you get started. You could commute or even start your own business. We would be happy to hire you on as a remote designer and fly you out to the sites when needed.”
He could hear Freya’s teeth grinding at his side. She sat up in her chair, her back straightening as she inhaled to deliver a volcanic defense. He rested his hand over her thigh, letting her know it wasn’t worth the fight. For now, she bit her lip and stayed quiet.
The rest of lunch dwindled to awkward silence. No one felt like much of a hike after. They roamed the visitor center, but at their own pace.
Far from Foothills, Zane had no qualms about public handholding with Freya. Despite the awful morning and even worse lunch, she was a breath of fresh air. He’d wanted to skip the science lesson and wait outside, maybe sit on a shady park bench and make out for a bit. Nope, Freya had dragged him through the exhibits.
Right about the time he caught sight of his parents standing by the window in a pathetic attempt to find cellphone service, Freya jumped on the seismometer and whooped at her power, that dimple in her cheek flashing her delight. Dragging him over, she raised her eyebrows and bit her lip in gleeful challenge. Rolling his eyes, grinning like an idiot, he leaped into the air and slammed down onto the meter, making the biggest line of the day.
Flashing her a wink, he laced his arm around her waist and pulled her close. Sliding his hand into her hair, he cradled her against him as he softly pressed his lips to hers. Fluidly, without pause, she kissed him back. When they ended the kiss, she nuzzled against his neck and inhaled. Arms wrapped around her, he buried his face in her wild hair, breathing her in.
On the drive back, winding down the narrow fishhook turns, Zane counted the hours until his parents left. Three nights hadn’t sounded so bad, but his head might explode if he had to attempt polite conversation with them much longer.
The bustling on Main Street was particularly peppy today. Zane plotted how he might avoid talking for the rest of the visit. Maybe they could watch a movie or something that didn’t require speaking.
Freya could chill when the situation called for it, like no other. But she also seethed like no one else he’d met. Bottling up whatever she held on the tip of her tongue seemed to be festering into the air. She nodded to an empty stretch ahead, “Let’s hop out.”
Without argument, he parallel parked, then turned to see what the hell had prompted the impromptu stop. He tilted his head in subtle question.
She quietly cleared her throat, “When do you get the keys?”
“Seriously? No,” he winced.
“Trust me?”
He exhaled slowly, hating where this was going. “I got them yesterday morning.”
She scowled, whispering, “Seriously? I didn’t think the loan had been finalized yet.”
His father leaned in, visibly eavesdropping where there was no need in the cramped space. This was a conversation he’d planned to have with herafterthey’d left. His stomach lurched as he accepted how much he was about to share with his parents. And their inevitable “constructive criticism.”
“I didn’t end up needing such a big loan.” He’d been miserable, not being able to talk to Freya sooner about all this. To not drag her over to show her the building, his plans. But that was more serious than handholding, than quickies in the laundry room… than consummating. Fuck, that pang clenched and screamed and told him to stop being a fucking idiot. But Freya didn’t need another selfish asshole in her life, determined to force her to livehisdream, when hers was so big and beautiful and fragile.
“What? How?”
“Grady.”
“He did?” Her smile grew wide, her eyes downright sparkly blue like the fricking Mediterranean on an August afternoon.
“Yeah,” he chuckled as he accepted the strange turns his life was taking. “In part to piss off his mother, and, apparently, because he hates his job. And I hate the damn schmoozing end of things, the nuances of running a business, so he’s no longer my attorney. We’re full partners.”
