Hooking a Handyman

by Jacobs, Brenna

  If anything was clear, it was that he hated his life without her in it. Things were fine. The show was fine. The kids were fine. His family was fine. But without Zoey in his life, the world had lost its shine.

  Chapter 17

  Zoey sat at the anchor desk, minutes before going live, and reviewed her notes for the broadcast. It was all pretty straight forward. It had been a relatively slow news day and the headlines were pretty low key, but she was fine with that. They’d been covering a high stakes murder trial the last few weeks; she was ready for something a little tamer. After headlines, they’d be doing an extended weather segment—snow in October was odd, even for Chicago—and then they were airing a pre-taped interview with a Chicago-native author who had written a self-help book. Something about finding your best life through intentional dreams and aspirations.

  Zoey wasn’t necessarily big on self-help books. At least, she never had been before, but she’d been in the studio when they’d filmed the interview earlier that day and she’d been captivated by something the author had said.

  “A poorly defined dream is like a young girl dreaming of the wedding, without giving any thought to the groom,” she had said. “What’s a wedding? It’s an event. But life isn’t about events. It’s about people. About connections. What kind of marriage do you want? What kind of job do you want? Dream about what you want to get out of your life and let that set your priorities.”

  Zoey had pulled out her phone and immediately written out what the author had said. There was truth to the words. It resonated in Zoey’s gut and spoke to her in a meaningful way. What she couldn’t figure out is if that’s what she had done. Had she dreamed of a job, of accomplishing a thing that no one her age had ever done before just because she liked the thrill of accomplishing something big? Had she thought about what she wanted to actually get out of her life, or had it all just been about the accomplishment?

  “Live in sixty seconds,” a producer called out, pulling Zoey’s attention back to the present.

  It had been almost two months since she’d started at Channel 4, and she loved what she did. There was no denying that.

  But at the end of the day, at the end of every day, Zoey was lonely. And the longer she was away from Harry, the more Zoey was convinced there was only one man that could make that loneliness go away.

  “In five, four, three . . .”

  Zoey watched her producer count down the last two numbers silently then looked directly into the camera. “Live in Chicago, I’m Zoey Williamson and this is Channel 4 News.”

  After the broadcast, Zoey snagged a copy of the author’s book from the studio. There were several copies laying around—they’d been sent over from the publisher—so she didn’t think anyone would miss just one. She took it home, ate leftover Chinese from her fridge while running herself a bath, then settled into the tub and started to read.

  “In a world where we are programmed to achieve, achieve, achieve, are we brave enough to acknowledge that what we achieve might not be the thing that makes us happy?” Zoey read out loud. She reached up with her toe and turned on the bath water, running some fresh warmth into her nearly tepid tub. She was shriveled to true raisin status, but she couldn’t put the book down long enough to actually get herself out of the water.

  She read the line again.

  Zoey had been chasing her dream of anchoring the evening news since her first semester of college. And she’d managed to get it. But now what? She’d told Harry she felt like she needed to interview for the job so that she didn’t resent him for the lost opportunity. But now she had the opportunity and it didn’t feel as good as she had expected it to.

  She flipped back a few chapters in the book and found a checklist designed to distill the truth out of any situation. For her, she’d apply the listed questions to her work.

  Is it satisfying? Yes.

  Do you enjoy it? Yes.

  Does it fill you up and make you feel like you matter? Yes and yes.

  So far, so good.

  The next question read, Does it bring you joy?

  Zoey dropped the book outside the tub and sank into the water. She was happy when she was at work. But she wasn’t sure if, overall, she would say her life had any true joy in it. There was a difference between happiness and joy. Happiness was a tall vanilla cream at Starbucks. But that hardly compared to the feel of Harry’s lips on hers, or the sound of Oliver’s laughter when she’d tickle him behind his knees.

  Was the satisfaction of achieving something wonderful worth leaving behind a continual source of joy in her life? Particularly when, with just a little bit of effort, she could have both?

  Because she could have both. She’d been so fixated on the possibility of getting the anchor job at Channel 4, she’d dismissed the possibility of working in L.A.

  Much of what she’d told Harry about the L.A. industry was true. It would be more competitive. But that didn’t mean it would be impossible.

  She could try.

  But it was almost November.

  It had been months since she’d last talked to Harry. Would he even still want her to try? Nothing sounded more terrible than upending her life and moving to California permanently only to have him reject her because he’d fallen in love with someone else. She’d spent weeks agonizing over why he hadn’t wanted to actually see her when he came to Chicago. All signs pointed to the possibility that he’d changed his mind about her.

  Nervous energy coursed through her as she thought about the possibilities. She could text him. Call him. Get on a plane and go and see him.

  No. She couldn’t go see him. That felt too risky. Nothing said drama like showing up at your old boyfriend’s house and having the new girlfriend open the door. It’s possible Zoey had watched too many romantic comedies, but that felt like too real of a possibility for her to take that risk.

  Calling felt risky as well. What if she said something stupid?

  Even though she’d built her career around her ability to speak and communicate clearly, she had zero confidence that in this situation she’d be able to keep it together. And again. Too many movies had awkward phone call scenes.

  That left texting. Was it too high school? Maybe. But it also felt . . . safe.

  Zoey stood up and reached for a towel, wrapping it around herself as she stepped out of the tub. She grabbed another for her hair, then quickly went through the motions of getting ready for bed, all the while thinking about what she might say if she sent a text.

  She thought while she brushed her teeth.

  While she flossed and exfoliated and applied lotion to her arms.

  She thought while she picked out her pajamas and double checked that her front door was locked and checked again that her balcony door was locked, even though she’d checked it that morning and she was positive she hadn’t gone out on the balcony all day.

  Finally, when she climbed into bed, she allowed herself to pick up her phone. Chasing a sudden impulse, she texted her mom instead of Harry.

  Honest question, she texted. Do you ever wish you had a different life?

  I need context, her mom immediately responded. What do you mean?

  Zoey tapped her phone against her lip. Were me and Nathan enough? Raising us. Was it enough?

  It took her mom a few minutes to respond. Finally a long message came through.

  You were more than enough. In hindsight I wish I’d done more to figure out what I liked to do as a person. I was great at being a mom, but I was afraid to be more than that. I got started a little late figuring out who I am as a person, and not just as a mom. I’ve floundered a little bit the past few years, though the grandkids have helped with that. But I still don’t have any regrets, Zoey. You and your brother made me so happy. You’re the greatest thing I ever did.

  Zoey read the text over and over. It was maybe the most transparent her mother had ever been. Thanks, Mom, she replied.

  Then she started a new text thread and sent Harry a single word before she
could chicken out.

  Hi.

  Chapter 18

  Hi.

  Harry stared at his phone.

  One word.

  She’d texted one single word.

  For three days he carried that word around in his mind.

  What did it mean? How should he respond?

  Finally, after three days of agonizing over how—and if—to respond, he texted back.

  Hi.

  Her response was almost immediate.

  That three days of waiting nearly killed me.

  He smiled. Another message popped up before he could respond. I’m nervous, she had typed.

  Well. He could relate to that. Me too, he responded.

  How are you?

  How was he? Could he even answer honestly? He was managing well enough. He had a new nanny who was great, and his sister had gotten far enough along in her pregnancy that she wasn’t quite so sick. He’d wrapped up his seventh season of Right-On Renovations, which allowed him more time to work on his product line. The kids were happy enough, though Hannah had a taken a little longer than he’d hoped to get used to kindergarten. Still, she was fine now, so could he even complain? The truth was, whether or not everything else in his life was running smoothly or not hardly mattered at the end of the day. He was off kilter without Zoey. Once he’d gotten used to her daily presence, he couldn’t shake how wrong it felt without her around.

  He’d thought he was falling in love with her before she left. But her leaving had only confirmed the fact times ten. He loved her. Now more than ever.

  It likely didn’t help that he ended everyday with her news broadcast. Seeing her face, and hearing her talk kept the memories he had of her real and vivid.

  But he couldn’t exactly say all that in a text.

  I’m surviving, he finally said. It felt true enough.

  Just surviving?

  Harry dropped onto the couch, pushing aside the blanket and picture books Oliver had left there that morning. I got a new nanny, he texted back. She cooks.

  He leaned back onto the cushions, his heart racing and waited for her to reply.

  Chapter 19

  She cooks?

  How was Zoey supposed to respond to that? Congrats on the upgrade? All sorts of uncharitable thoughts pushed through Zoey’s mind. She hoped the nanny was ugly. And old. And already married. Oddly, nearly as potent as the sting of Harry potentially caring about someone else—not to imply that Harry had a habit of dating his nannies, but her mind wasn’t exactly thinking rationally at the moment—was the sting of the kids caring about someone else. She missed them. Really missed them.

  Before Zoey could respond, Harry sent another message. I’ve been watching your broadcasts.

  Zoey couldn’t stop herself from smiling. That was a subject change she could appreciate.

  You’re really good, Zoe, his next message read.

  Zoey looked at the time on her phone. She had to be at the station in an hour. But maybe that still left her enough time. She raced to her front door and flung it open, crossing quickly to Daren and Ryan’s apartment. She knocked on the door, realizing too late they might not be home from school yet.

  The elevator dinged behind her, and Zoey turned around. When the doors slid open, she sighed with relief. “Oh, I’m so glad you guys are home. I need your help.”

  It made Zoey sad to think she’d taken so long to get to know her neighbors a little bit. She’d always been on friendly speaking terms with Ryan and Daren, even on come-help-me-fix-my-faucet terms. But they’d only recently started really talking. Spending time together. The two of them had become the only two people, outside of Nana, that knew the full story of what had happened with Harry.

  Ryan’s eyebrows went up. “What happened?”

  “I texted him,” Zoey said. “And he texted back and now I have no idea what I should say.”

  “You should say you love him, and you’ll be on the next flight,” Daren said.

  Zoey followed them into their apartment and leaned against the counter, watching as they unloaded a bag of groceries. “I can’t just come right out and say it. Tell me how to do this smoothly. I don’t want to mess this up.”

  Ryan held out his hand for her phone. “What have you said so far?”

  Zoey handed him the phone, chewing on her lip until he’d read through the last few messages. “Oh, he’s watching Chicago news so he can see you. That’s so sweet.”

  “What do I say?” Zoey reached for her phone. “It’s been too long. If I don’t respond soon he might get busy doing something else.”

  “Say thank you, first of all,” Daren said. “He paid you a really nice compliment. Then tell him you love him, and you’ll be on the next flight.”

  “Daren!” Zoey said. “That isn’t helpful.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Ask about the kids. If you want to ease in, that’s probably a pretty safe topic.”

  “Right,” Zoey said. “The kids. I can definitely ask about the kids.”

  Thank you, she texted. How are the kids?

  They miss you, Harry’s message read. Almost as much as I do.

  Zoey gasped. She handed the phone to Ryan and Daren. They read the message and then emitted simultaneous and identical, “Awwww”s.

  Ryan handed her phone back. “Zoey,” he said calmly. “Don’t text him back. Call him.”

  Chapter 20

  Harry’s phone lit up with an incoming call and his lungs jumped into his throat. He glanced at his watch. He had another hour before Geneva would be home with the kids. He was supposed to be working from home, reviewing specs for new additions to his line of tools, but this felt like a much better use of his time.

  He stepped out onto his back patio, taking Marigold with him, and answered the call.

  “Hey,” he said.

  A beat of silence, a deep breath, and then he heard, “I miss you, too. So much.”

  Harry couldn’t stop himself from smiling. Dared he even hope?

  “Zoey, I’m so sorry I ever made you feel like you should walk away from your career for me. I was an idiot. I wasn’t thinking about how it looked from your perspective because I was too focused on what I wanted, on how much I wanted to be with you.”

  “I know,” Zoey said, her voice soft. “I get it.”

  “Please trust me when I say it won’t ever be like that. If you want to have a career, I want you to have one. Here or there, or anywhere. If you ever decided you wanted to stay at home with our kids, I would support that too.” He froze. He’d just said kids. Our kids. “Oh, man. Please erase that last sentence and pretend like you didn’t hear me reference our future children.”

  Zoey laughed. “I like the sound of future children with you, Harrison Beckford.”

  “I’m so sorry, Zoey. Truly.”

  “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have left like I did. I should have been more transparent about the job I was trying to get and just, well, everything.”

  “How is the job?” Harry asked. “Do you like it?”

  “Yes,” she replied immediately. “I mean, no. I mean, yes, I love it, but not enough to keep doing it, I don’t think. I’m not saying this the right way. I have so many things I want to say and I’m not . . . I can’t stop thinking about ridiculous questions. Like about whether or not your new nanny is young and beautiful and whether or not you’ve been seeing anyone and whether or not you might consider seeing me again if I happened to come back to California.”

  Harry laughed. “Geneva is sixty-five. She’s a lovely woman, but she’s older than my mom, and she’s been married for forty years. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve tried. But so far, she’s rejected all my invitations.”

  Zoey chuckled. “I’ve missed your teasing.”

  “I’m not seeing anyone, Zoey. How could I possibly think about dating anyone else when I’m still so in love with you?”

  Chapter 21

  Zoey closed her eyes, pressing her phone against her chest for a brief moment before lift
ing it back to her ear.

  An alarm buzzed on Zoey’s phone. If she didn’t leave for the station in the next five minutes, she’d be giving her producers a heart attack.

  “I have to go to work,” she said. “But can I call you later? Can we talk? Really talk?”

  Harry hesitated before saying, “Of course. I’ll be around. Call me as soon as you can.”

  Zoey ended the call knowing she’d left Harry hanging. He’d said I love you, and she’d said can I call you later?

  But she couldn’t say I love you over the phone. Not for the first time.

  Her bosses were maybe going to hate her for this.

  Possibly enough that she might lose her job.

  She willed her mind to slow down long enough to make some plans. She wasn’t going to work today, but she couldn’t leave them anchorless. She texted a quick message to Sarah, the morning news anchor she’d gotten to know over the past couple of months. Sarah responded almost immediately, agreeing to cover for her. Zoey sent that confirmation, along with a vague explanation of her absence to her bosses, hoping they’d forgive her since she’d found someone to fill her seat.

  Then she headed for the hall closet to grab her suitcase.

  She had a plane to catch.

  Chapter 22

  Harry waited all afternoon for Zoey to call. Then all evening.

  Had he scared her away by admitting he still loved her? He hadn’t planned to say it. But when she’d admitted to missing him, and then gotten jealous over his new nanny, it had just sort of tumbled out. He didn’t regret saying it. But he maybe regretted saying it so soon.

  Just after midnight, someone buzzed the outer gate at the end of his driveway.

  He pulled out his phone, immediately recognizing Zoey’s silhouette standing in the darkness outside the gate. He opened the gate remotely, watching through the feed long enough to make sure she got back in her Uber so the driver could bring her up the long driveway. She could have walked it, but as late it was, he would have hated for her to have to.