Hooking a Handyman

by Jacobs, Brenna

  “Really? How did you remember him? I mean, if he wasn’t president yet, he was just some guy, right?”

  “I never forget a face,” the driver said. “It’s just the way I am. Plus, he had a lot to say, Obama did. He told me he was going to run for president one day. Then what do you know? He did it.”

  Zoey smiled. “I like that story.”

  They pulled to a stop at a red light next to a city bus.

  The driver pointed at the ad painted on the side of the bus. “Hey. There’s another one. That guy was in my cab yesterday. He’s maybe not as famous as Obama, but he’s still got his face on the side of a bus so that’s something, yeah? He’s on TV like you. One of those home-renovation shows.”

  Zoey slowly turned, taking in the perfectly chiseled, slightly scruffy, intensely gorgeous face of Harrison Beckford filling the oversized advertising space on the side of the bus. Her heart pounded in her chest. First of all, how had she not noticed that Harrison’s face was on the side of all the buses in Chicago? Second, Harrison himself was in the city? Zoey had so many questions.

  “Harrison Beckford?” she said to the driver, her words measured and slow. Maybe the driver would say no. Maybe he would laugh dismissively and say, “Just kidding! Wouldn’t that have been funny though?” Maybe he would say he’d been mistaken, and it hadn’t been him after all.

  “Yeah,” the driver said. “That’s him.”

  “He was in your cab? Here in Chicago?”

  The driver tossed her a funny look. “Where else?”

  Zoey couldn’t think. She could scarcely breath. Why was Harry in Chicago? First her conversation with Veronica and now this? It felt like the universe was trying to give her a massive, in-your-face wake-up call. What were the odds that she would get in the same cab that had driven Harry not even twenty-four hours ago? What were the freaking odds?

  But then, if he’d been in the city at least twenty-four hours, why hadn’t he called her? Was he there for another reason? He’d never mentioned traveling to Chicago for work before. He had to be there to see her.

  “Did he happen to mention why he was in the city?” Zoey asked, leaning forward.

  “Who?”

  “Harrison Beckford,” Zoey answered, hoping her impatience didn’t sound in her voice.

  “Oh. No. Didn’t say much of anything. Gave me a huge tip, though.”

  Zoey finally pulled out her phone, staring at the screen as if that alone was enough to make Harry reach out to her.

  Because she couldn’t reach out to him.

  He had no idea she even knew he was in town. If he wanted to see her, he’d call. Wouldn’t he?

  The cab stopped in front of Zoey’s building. She dug through her purse for her wallet, realizing as she pulled out the cash that her hands were trembling. She handed over the money then climbed out of the car but didn’t immediately go into her building.

  Did Harrison know where she lived? He could have gotten the address from Nana or her mother. Oh, her mother would have loved the drama of that. Harrison coming over, begging for her address so he could chase her down. Was he planning to surprise her?

  Zoey looked up and down the street, half-expecting to see him hiding behind a trash can or sitting casually at one of the café tables that lined the street. But nothing looked out of the ordinary.

  The crosswalk to Zoey’s left blinked and changed and a rush of pedestrians moved across the street. Zoey backed up, pressing her back against the front of her building and looked at her phone. She called Nana first. She’d likely have an easier time discerning the truth from her, than from Mom.

  “Hey Zoey,” Nana said. “How’s my girl?” It hadn’t even been a week and Zoey already missed talking to Nana every day. “Hey, Nana. If I ask you a question, do you promise to answer me honestly?”

  “Sure, baby. What else would I do?”

  “Did Harrison tell you he was coming to Chicago?”

  Nana paused, but the surprise in her voice sounded genuine when she finally spoke. “What?”

  “I think he’s here. In the city. Do you know anything about him coming? Did he ask you for my address? Anything?”

  “No, sweetie. I haven’t seen Harry in over a week. Since before you left. Want me to ask your mother?”

  “No. If you haven’t seen him, I’m sure she hasn’t either.”

  “Why do you think he’s in the city?”

  “It’s nothing,” Zoey said quickly, suddenly feeling foolish. “I thought I—I’m sure it was just a mistake.” It occurred to Zoey how likely it was a mistake. It could have just been someone that looked like Harry.

  “Want me to call him and ask him?”

  “No!” Zoey said quickly. If she didn’t have the guts to call him, she for sure didn’t want her grandma to do it for her. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. But no. I’ll handle it.”

  “Have you heard from him at all?”

  Zoey took a deep breath. “No. But he was pretty final about how he left things. I really didn’t expect to.” She had, though. When she’d texted him that first day in the city, she’d fully expected him to text her back.

  “I wish you wouldn’t give up, Zoey. I think you two are really meant for each other.”

  “I know, Nana. I know.”

  Later that night, Zoey finally got up the courage to reach out to Harry.

  Are you in Chicago? she texted. She sat the phone down on her coffee table face up and stared at the screen, willing him to respond. But still, nothing came through. One minute turned into two, and then three as she sat, unmoving, and stared at her phone, tapping the screen every minute or so to refresh the screen and keep it on. Once, after five minutes of waiting, the little floating dots that indicated someone was typing a message danced at the bottom of her screen.

  Her heart climbed into her throat and she nearly screamed, but then the dots disappeared, and no message ever arrived.

  Dejected, Zoey tossed her phone onto the couch and stomped into her bathroom, angrily yanking on the handle to turn on her shower. The nozzle broke off in her hand, but not before the water turned on, dumping an endless—and unstoppable—stream of ice-cold water into the tub.

  Zoey dropped onto the side of the tub, the hot tears streaming down her face a contrast to the plink, plink of cold water splashing from the tub onto her arm and shoulder. At least the emergent situation kept her from feeling sorry for herself for too long. The water was draining, but not quite as fast as the tub was filling. If she didn’t get help quick, she’d have a much bigger problem on her hands.

  Sighing, she kicked off her heels and ran for her phone, dialing the super’s number even as she raced across the hall to her neighbor’s apartment, still holding the faucet handle she’d broken off.

  Her neighbor, Ryan, opened the door, wearing pajama pants and a t-shirt and looking very much like she’d gotten him out of bed. She glanced at her watch. It wasn’t that late, just past ten, but her neighbors were both schoolteachers. An early bedtime made sense for them.

  Zoey held up the faucet, the sound of running water audible through her open apartment door. “Help?” she said hopefully.

  Ryan looked from Zoey, to the faucet handle, then back to Zoey, his eyes blinking several times. “Ryan?” Zoey said. “You okay?”

  “Sorry. Just trying to wake up. I don’t know how to fix that. But Daren will. Let me get him.”

  “Thank you!” Zoey called to his retreating form.

  “Did you call the super?” Daren said, as Zoey followed him back to her apartment.

  She nodded. “Yeah. He didn’t answer.”

  The bathtub was already half-full when they made it into the bathroom, but it only took Daren a second to turn the water off. He held up the pliers he’d used to manually twist the valve closed. “Glad I brought these with me.”

  “How did you know to bring them with you?” Zoey asked.

  “It happened at our place not that long ago. It’s the same faucet. I made a lucky guess.”


  Zoey heaved a sigh. She shouldn’t be so tired. She’d gotten plenty of sleep the past few nights. But her emotional exhaustion felt bone deep. “Thanks, Daren. Sorry to pull you out of bed.”

  “No worries,” he said. “I’ll fall back to sleep quick.” They walked together to her apartment door. “Ryan, on the other hand, might be up until tomorrow. He’s terrible at going back to sleep.”

  “Oh, no. I’m so sorry,” Zoey said. “I panicked. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  Daren reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. He’ll be fine.” He leaned against the door jamb. “Hey, are you back for good?”

  Zoey’s eyes dropped to the floor. “I don’t know. I think so. I’m going to do a few guest spots as evening news anchor for Channel 4. If it goes well, they’re saying the job is mine.”

  “Hey, well done,” Daren said. “That’s amazing.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” Zoey said, though she hardly sounded enthusiastic.

  “I guess I was curious if the thing with the guy from TV meant you’d be staying in L.A. permanently.”

  A thread of discomfort wound through her belly. She hadn’t actually had a conversation with her neighbors, which meant they’d had to have gotten their information off the internet.

  “Sorry,” Daren said, clearly sensing her discomfort. “Is that weird that I said something? Ryan and I kind of had a freak out moment when we saw your picture come up on Entertainment Tonight.”

  “It’s fine,” Zoey said. “Still just a little weird to know that people know about that even without me telling anyone.”

  “I’m sure,” Daren said. “You looked gorgeous though. Like you belonged together. I hope it works out for you guys.”

  “Yeah. I don’t . . . I don’t think it’s going to. I don’t know. Maybe. It’s complicated.”

  “Isn’t it always?” Daren said. “I didn’t expect him to be quite so tall in person, but girl, that is one seriously fine man. I’d say well done if the look in your eyes wasn’t saying that complicated actually means painful.”

  It took Zoey a second to process what Daren had said. “Wait. Did you just say in person? Have you seen him somewhere?”

  Daren looked at her like she’d asked him to sing his ABCs while doing the chicken dance. “He was outside your apartment this afternoon. I assumed he was on his way in or out.”

  “Oh, geez.” Zoey leaned against the wall. “He was here? Here, here? Did he say anything?”

  “You didn’t know he was here?”

  She only managed to shake her head.

  “That explains why he looked so nervous.”

  She pressed a hand to her forehead. “I haven’t heard from him in days. He hasn’t called, or texted. I can’t believe he’s actually here.”

  Daren shrugged. “Maybe he wants to surprise you?”

  “I wish he’d get on with it, then. The cab driver that brought me home tonight told me Harry rode in his cab yesterday. Here. In Chicago. I thought the guy was mistaken. It was just someone that looked like him. But I guess not.”

  “You call him Harry?” Daren said, his voice all sappy and sentimental. “That’s so sweet.”

  She shot him a look and he schooled his features. “Sorry. Not the time. That’s crazy that you rode in the same cab.”

  “It’s like the universe is playing some cruel game of hide and seek. Even though I left, I can’t seem to get away from him. And seriously. What are the odds? The same cab? Chicago has millions of cabs.”

  “Maybe not millions. And drivers often stay in the same parts of the city. He was somewhere around your apartment building, it’s maybe not that crazy. But still. I see your point.”

  That maybe made a little bit of sense. Zoey had ridden in cabs with the same driver before on her way to or from work. But it was still pretty unbelievable.

  “Do you mind if I ask why you did leave?” Daren asked. “You weren’t leaving him, were you?”

  Zoey didn’t answer. How could she?

  “It’s complicated?” Daren finally asked.

  “Yeah,” Zoey said with a sigh.

  “Hang in there,” Daren said, giving her arm one more squeeze. “And text the super about your faucet. It’s not a hard fix, but you shouldn’t use your shower until he takes care of it.”

  Zoey nodded. At least she had a guest bathroom she could use. “Thanks. Please tell Ryan I’m sorry I woke him up. I owe you guys.”

  After texting the super, Zoey pulled up her text thread with Harry and stared at his lack of response. So he was in Chicago. Somewhere close enough that he’d been at her apartment a few hours before.

  Why hadn’t he responded? If he’d come all this way, if he’d made the effort to find her apartment, why not respond to her text? She sent one more message, promising herself that if he didn’t respond after this one, she’d be done.

  My neighbors told me they saw you today. Are you still in town? Can I see you?

  She plugged the phone in next to her bed and gathered her things to haul them to the tiny guest bathroom on the other side of the apartment. Even after her shower, Harry still hadn’t responded.

  Zoey curled up under her comforter and turned off her lamp, willing herself to forget Harry long enough to get some sleep.

  Try as she might to turn her brain off, one thought kept pushing to the surface. This was not what going home to Chicago was supposed to feel like.

  Chapter 16

  Harry sat in Ms. Emily’s kitchen, his head between his hands. “I just couldn’t do it,” he said. It had been three weeks since he’d flown to Chicago and then home again. He hadn’t been to see Ms. Emily in all that time. It was a cowardly thing to do, but he was almost embarrassed to face her. He’d stood outside Zoey’s apartment door. He’d sat in the lobby of her building. He’d ridden in cabs around and around her block. But he’d never gotten up the courage to see her. As time went by, he felt more and more foolish, so much that it not only kept him from texting Zoey again, but from seeing Ms. Emily as well.

  “I guess when I saw her apartment, her neighbors, when I envisioned her life in Chicago, I realized she was right. I was expecting her to leave her life behind. I wasn’t thinking about what was really on the line. I acted like the only thing she had going on that didn’t revolve around me was taking care of you.” Harry looked up. “Not that you weren’t the most important thing.”

  Ms. Emily smiled. “I know what you mean.”

  “I think I screwed up,” Harry said. “I should have supported her doing the interview. I should have told her I was willing to make it work, even if she did have to move back to Chicago. I mean, I wouldn’t want to do long distance forever, but I shouldn’t have pressured her to make a final decision so soon. I should have been willing to give her space, to support her career choices.”

  “You have to understand, Harry. Zoey feels a lot of pressure from her mother to get married, to have a family. And she wants those things, too. But she’s always fought hard against the idea that that’s all she was meant to do. She’s always been a dreamer. She wanted to make something of herself. To make a difference in the world. Then she lost her job and I think it shook her. When she moved out here, she found a new version of herself in the life she shared with you. I think it scared her how much she loved it. Maybe it felt like she had to choose.”

  “But it doesn’t have to be one or the other, does it?” Harry asked. “I would never expect her to walk away from something that’s important to her.”

  Ms. Emily cocked her head. “Wouldn’t you?”

  Harry’s gut tightened. He had asked her to give it all up. Had dismissed what was important to her in a matter of words. “It isn’t what I meant to do. I would never expect her to give up her career.”

  “I’m sure that’s true. I think Zoey will figure out that she doesn’t have to pick one or the other. She might just need a little time.”

  Harry shook his head. “I don’t know. She told me it was
her dream job. And now she’s got it. I’ve been watching clips, as many as I can get my hands on, and she’s really good at what she does. Plus, she seems happy.”

  “Harry. A news broadcast is not an accurate reflection of her emotions.”

  Ms. Emily made a good point. But Zoey did look happy. There was a light in her eyes, cheesy as that sounded. She seemed content. Harry thought of the three-word response he’d sent her the last time she’d texted him, telling him she knew he’d been in Chicago. By the time he’d gotten the message, he’d already landed in L.A..

  I’m sorry, Zoey, he had texted.

  It was the last time they had communicated.

  It hadn’t been hard to keep himself busy. He’d taken Hannah and Oliver to Portland for two weeks—his mom had taken some vacation time to come with him—to do the renovation for the special needs family, and then the week after they’d gotten back, Hannah had started kindergarten. Hannah had asked about Zoey enough times that he couldn’t forget her completely, but he’d been able to focus on the next thing enough to keep himself from wallowing too completely. Or worse, from reaching out to her and begging her to come back.

  Which is exactly what he wanted to do. He never would, though. He’d never risk making her feel like he expected it.

  “Have you talked to her lately?” he asked, looking up to meet Ms. Emily’s eye.

  She nodded. “She calls once or twice a week.”

  “Is she happy?”

  “Sure. In a way. But I think she misses you too. She’s asked about you.”

  Harry perked up. “What did you tell her?”

  “Harrison Beckford. This is not an elementary school playground. I’m not going to play she said, he said with you. If you want to talk to Zoey, call her.”

  Ms. Emily was right, but it was easier said than done. Each day that passed without talking to her made it feel that much harder to initiate a conversation. What would she think? Would she forgive him for showing up in Chicago only to freak out and fly home without seeing her? Would she forgive his insensitivity for suggesting her career wasn’t important? Would she still want to see him? Would she want to give him another chance?