Page 84 of Room for Us

“Hey, Mom.” I make it up the stairs. She hugs me hard enough that emotions threaten to spill over. I pull away. “Any chance you can stay a bit longer? Maybe handle lunch for me?”

“Of course. I’m hardly doing anything, anyway—Joan is a natural. Your guests adore her. The stories that woman has!”

“Good. Sounds good. Thanks.” I sound like a robot, but I can’t help it.

“Aw, honey.”

She gives me the Tell Me Where It Hurts face, but I shake my head. “Nope. Not talking about it.”

“All right. Go relax. We’ll be here.”

“Thanks, Mom.” My voice cracks.

I flee inside, head down and eyes on the floor as I beeline for my apartment.

After a long shower, I’m not tired anymore. Or I’m in that elusive place one stop past tired, where I could either reorganize a pantry or stare at a wall for hours. The urge to curl into a ball and cry is distant—I’m sure it will return tonight, but I’m grateful for the reprieve.

Dressed, with my damp hair in a messy bun on my head, I leave the apartment for the kitchen. I need a snack and some tea before I face my guests, Joan, and Mom. Before I immerse myself back into life at Rose House.

The house is quiet, though I can hear a few low voices in the living room. Outside, the blue sky shines, serene, and a warm breeze teases lace around open windows. The beautiful, peaceful afternoon sinks through my skin—by the time I push through the kitchen door, I’m halfway back to hopeful. Things could be worse. So much worse.

Inside the kitchen, a tall figure turns from the sink. Broad, welcoming smile. Chartreuse eyes creased at the corners.

“Hi there. Would you like some tea?”

47

Zoey stares at me like I’ll disappear. Her eyes are wide, flickering and scanning me, as her mind races to make sense of my presence.

“Ethan?” she whispers.

“The one and only.” I can’t help smiling at her confusion. “I heard you just got back from a trip to New York. Sorry I wasn’t there. I was coming here. Obviously, since I’m here. Weird, right? That we were flying to each other at the same time?”

I’m rambling, excitement vibrating in my bones. I want so badly to touch her. Hold her. Kiss her pursed lips and frowning forehead. But I’m working on my impulsivity. Plus, both Alana and Joan warned me to take it slow. To not overwhelm her.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, still frozen just inside the door. “I mean, you left, and I thought…” She shakes her head helplessly.

I’ve been waiting for this moment for months, and I’m prepared. I only hope she’ll believe me.

“I shouldn’t have left, Zoey. At the time, I thought it was the right thing to do. You were so distraught when I asked you to come back to New York with me—”

“You don’t have to explain,” she interjects. “Daphne was here, and you were working on your book, and it was all suddenly complicated. I don’t blame you for wanting to get away.” Her pale throat moves, her eyes darting around the room. “I, um… what you said really shocked me. I reacted badly.”

I want to smile but resist. “Of course you reacted the way you did. I hadn’t even told you I loved you yet, and here I was asking you to leave your life to come back to a city you hate.”

Finally, her gaze lands on me and stays. “What did you say?”

“I love you.” I sigh, then grin. “Man, that feels good to say. I love you, Zoey Kemper. I love you. And I want us to be together.”

Her eyes grow wide, rimmed with panic. This time, I’m not surprised. I expected it. I’m ready.

“But—”

“You came to New York to see me.”

She nods. “You told your agent about me?” she asks tentatively.

“Of course. I dedicated the book to you. I’m telling the whole world about you. About what you mean to me.” I step toward her, slow and steady. “You came to see me because you missed me. Because you have feelings for me. Right?”

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