A small amount of relief rushes through me, bringing with it a rainbow of hope. Her new opinion of me hasn’t slipped down the drain in the short time we’ve been home. We have a chance of being the family Kenda had wished for—minus the part about Kenda being in it.
I leave the bedroom but wait in the hallway for Athena.
She says good night one more time to Peony, turns off the bedroom light, and steps out of the room. She doesn’t close the door fully, even though a baby monitor sits in the room in case Peony calls out in the middle of the night.
Athena startles, clearly not expecting to find me waiting for her.
“That book? Any reason she keeps asking for it?” I’ve seen Athena read to her the other picture books, but nowhere near as often as that one.
“It reminds her of her mama. Kenda read the story to her whenever…she just read it a lot.”
Fair enough.
My thoughts slip back to the high I’d felt when Peony let me carry her at the playground. They then flip to the kiss with Zara. It’s no wonder my words are coming out sluggishly. I’m too distracted to write. My thoughts are everywhere, other than where they need to be: on the book.
I need to take a break and go see Zara. Just for a few minutes.
That should straighten my mind out.
“I’m going out. I won’t be long,” I tell Athena. “Then I’ll be up late working. Do you need anything before I head out?”
“No, I’m good. Let me know if you want me to make you a late-night snack. I can do that.”
“Unless Peony needs you, you’re off duty for the rest of the night.”
The only time Peony has needed Athena during the night is when Peony wakes up from a nightmare. I doubt we’re near the point yet where she’ll let me comfort her after she wakes from a bad dream.
I addFind a child psychologistto my mental to-do list. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that the nightmares are the result of seeing her mother shot. But I have no idea where to find someone qualified in that department. I can’t ask for recommendations at the Veterans Center.
I grab my wallet and keys on my way to the garage and head to Zara’s building. I park in Visitor Parking and walk to the main entrance. One of the residents who knows I’m a friend of Zara is leaving the building, and he holds the door open for me.
“Thanks,” I tell him and head for the staircase. The elevator wasrecently repaired, but I prefer taking the stairs, especially when restlessness plagues me, like now.
I jog up to the fourth floor. But as I pull open the door, a craving to kiss Zara hits. And it grows stronger the closer I get to her apartment.
Is that the real reason I wanted to come here tonight? Because I need to get the craving out of my system, otherwise I won’t be able to focus on the book?
I stop at her door and knock.
Christ, I hope she’s home.
25
ZARA
I stepout of the hot shower, my body less achy now than after I got home from the playground.
A cold shower might have been better—what with how I can’t stop thinking about how much I want to kiss Garrett. Even after I’d come to terms with how Kenda and Garrett were a couple, I had never fully moved on. My feelings for him have dialed up a notch over the past few years.
And then Garrett and I accidentally kissed.
Ugh. Stop thinking about it.
I wipe away the steam on the mirror, revealing my makeup-free face. “Garrett isn’t interested in you that way,” I tell the reflection. “He’s not interested in kissing you. We’re just friends.” That’s all.
I remove the shower cap and pull on my sleep shorts and T-shirt.
Yes, my body might have almost convinced me at his house that he was interested in me in the same way I want him. I’d thought he was leaning in for another kiss, and my body had been on board for that.
