Bedding Mr. Birdsong

by Deborah Camp

  After Seth left, Matt stood by the windows, looking at the bustling streets below as he sorted through his knotty emotions. Zaney. Refreshing, spontaneous, unfettered Zaney. There was no game about her. Which made it even more puzzling to him that he’d believed – even for a few minutes – that she’d played him.

  He knew her better than that.

  Oh, he’d been played, all right. By Carin. He’d let Carin plant that seed of doubt, knowing that there was fertile ground in him where it could take root. Dirt that she’d placed there.

  A self-derisive groan rumbled in his throat. Zaney was right. He should break it off totally with Carin. There was absolutely no reason for her to be hanging around. And Seth was right. He was a total schmuck. He jerked when someone rapped on his door and turned to see Seth poke his head in.

  “What now? Did Lonnie come to her senses?” he joked before he noticed the grave expression on his friend’s face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Lonnie called Zaney to tell her our news, but Zaney has left work. They said that she received a call about Frito Pie having a bad seizure and she’s rushing him to the vet.”

  Matt’s heart seized for a few seconds. He sucked in a shaking breath. “I have to go to her.”

  With his heart pumping dully in his chest and dread and fear fighting for supremacy in his head, Matt parked his car and raced into the veterinary clinic. The girl at the desk looked up and her eyes widened at whatever emotion was stamped on his face.

  “I’m here to see Zaney Miller. She brought Frito Pie in.” His heart stuttered when sadness blanketed the receptionist’s face. “Oh, no. It’s bad?”

  She nodded. “Are you a friend or relative?”

  “Friend. I need to see her. I’m here for her.”

  “She’s back in Exam Room Three. She . . . well, she’s very upset. Frito Pie didn’t make it.”

  His eyes slammed shut and the world went pear-shaped for a few moments. Zaney. He was striding down the hallway before his mind caught up to his actions. Pushing in the door marked “3,” he sucked in a breath when he saw her sitting forlornly in a straight-backed chair. Beside her was a metal table with a small bundle on it, covered with a blue and white baby blanket. Zaney looked at him with red-rimmed eyes and tear-glistening cheeks, and then she bolted from the chair and rocketed into his arms.

  “He’s gone, Matt,” she sobbed against his shoulder. “My sweet boy is gone.”

  Warm tears blurred his vision as he stroked her hair and kissed the crown of her head. “I know, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. I loved that silly guy, too.”

  She sobbed and clutched fistfuls of his shirt. He continued to stroke her hair and back, letting her cry it out until she could gather in a few hiccupping breaths and her hands relaxed against his chest.

  “What happened, Zaney? Another seizure?”

  “A b-bad one.” She swallowed and then sniffed. “He was at doggy day care and they called me and said that he was having a grand mal and they’d rushed him to the vet clinic. I hurried here, but he’d already passed by the time I arrived. I didn’t even get to say goodbye. I wasn’t with him, Matt! I wasn’t here for him.”

  “Okay, okay.” He wrapped her in a tight embrace as tears flooded her eyes again. “You know that these people were kind to him and if he was having a seizure he wasn’t aware of anyone around him, anyway.”

  “Amy and Theta, at doggy day care, were here. They just left. They were all broken up about it, too. Th-they loved him. Everyone did.” She swallowed hard. “I should have taken him to work with me.”

  “Why? He wasn’t having seizures lately, was he?”

  She shook her head.

  “Zaney, you did everything right. It was his time, baby. He had a wonderful life. I know you’re devastated, but don’t shoulder any blame.”

  She gently disengaged herself from his embrace and sat down. With a trembling hand, she touched the baby blanket. “I’m going to have him cremated and I’ll spread his ashes in Bryant Park. It was his favorite.”

  “He’d like that. Can I come with you when you do?”

  She rolled her lips between her teeth and shrugged. “I guess.”

  He squatted down beside her chair and rested his hands on her knees. “I’m sorry, Zaney. For everything. My heart hurts for you. For us.”

  “I can’t talk about that now.” She brushed his hands off her. “I’m too torn up, Matt.”

  He nodded and stood straight again. “Okay. What can I do for you? I have my car. Can I drive you back home? Want to go somewhere for a drink first?”

  “No, I . . .” She swallowed a sob. “I don’t want to leave him.”

  A chunk broke off his heart and he felt tears in his eyes again. “Zaney, you have to let them handle this from here on. You’ll come back for him. Let me take you home.” When he saw her lower lip tremble, he thought he might lose it, so he closed his eyes and made himself breathe deeply and center himself. He hated feeling useless. He wanted to hold her, protect her, shelter her from the pain of this terrible loss. For all he knew, she wished he’d go and leave her alone. She might be done with him. He might be experiencing the end of the best thing he’d ever had in his life and he was too dense to know it.

  “Zaney, please, come with me. Let me do this for you.” His voice didn’t sound like his own. It was gravelly, fraught with feelings for this woman that were infinitely tender and surprisingly fierce. He cupped his hand around her elbow and stood her up. “Do you have your purse? Coat?”

  She bent down and retrieved her small handbag from under the metal table. “I don’t have a coat. I dashed out without one.”

  “You wait by the street door and I’ll bring around the car. Okay?”

  She nodded, walking out of the exam room with him, but she stopped on the threshold and looked over her shoulder at the pitiful bundle under the blanket. “’Bye, Frito. I love you. I’ll always love you. You were the best, little buddy I’ve ever had or ever will have.” Her voice gave out, the last two words no more than a whisper. Her face crumpled.

  Matt put his arm around her shoulders and gently guided her from the room and to the reception area. “Wait here. I won’t be a minute.”

  “I have to pay the bill,” she murmured, rubbing her eyes.

  He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.

  “Thanks.” She dabbed at her eyes and nose before turning to the receptionist. “I want to pay for his cremation, too, please.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Meet you outside,” he murmured, and went to collect the car. Seeing her distraught had affected him more than he’d bargained for. At the car, he sat in the driver’s seat for a minute, staring straight ahead as he examined his reactions to a sad and broken Zaney. He was so used to basking in her sunny personality that witnessing her pain crushed him. “I’ve never felt so connected to anyone,” he whispered, and the sound of his voice jarred him from his reflections. He started the car and drove around the block to idle in front of the veterinary clinic.

  Zaney emerged from the building. Leaning across the seat, Matt opened the passenger door for her. As she slid in next to him, he caught the scent of her perfume and longing spiraled through him. He wanted to beg her forgiveness and ask to spend time with her. Make dinner for her. See to her needs. Just be in her company. But he could tell that she didn’t want him in that way. Her body was tense and she looked out the window, her face turned away from him. Everything about her posture said, Let me be.

  “I know you want to be alone, Zaney,” he said as they neared the apartment building. “But I wish you’d let me do something. I could cook dinner for you. You don’t have to eat with me. I’ll drop it off at your apartment.”

  She swallowed and her throat flexed. “No, thanks. I appreciate you coming to the clinic and driving me home.” Her glance barely touched him. “I’ll call my mother and . . . tell her.” She swallowed again and her eyes glistened with more tears. “I need to be by myself.”
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  “Okay.” He stopped in front of the apartment building. “If you need anything . . .”

  “Yes. Thanks.” She couldn’t get out of the car fast enough.

  He stared after her, feeling useless and hopeless. A car behind him honked. Glaring in his rearview mirror at the impatient taxi driver, he was barely able to keep from flipping him off. Instead, he hit the gas and joined the other motorists on the residential street. He didn’t head for the parking garage where he kept his car. Instead, he drove to Frito’s favorite park where he found an empty bench to sit on and brood about the monumental mistakes he’d made and what he needed to do to correct them. Because he would make Zaney smile again. That special smile she’d reserved for him. The one that crinkled her nose and made his heart trip over itself.

  Raking his fingers through his hair, he flung back his head to stare at the bare branches overhead. Dusk fell over the park. Joggers zipped past him. Women pushing baby carriages smiled when they caught his eye. A few couples, holding hands, totally lost in each other, strolled by, oblivious of him and his stinging, shattered feelings.

  A smile flitted over his lips when he suddenly recalled meeting Zaney and Frito Pie. It seemed ages ago, but it was only months. She had enchanted him with her nimble mind and talkative nature. He’d never been one to spend hours with someone in a diner or coffee shop trading childhood stories, embarrassing adult moments, or debating the latest news story. Not until Zaney. With other women, he’d been polite, keeping the chatter superficial and, hopefully, minimal. Then to bed. And sex. Game, set, match.

  Not so with Zaney.

  The friendship thing had slowed things way down, had broken all the rules and restructured his game plan. In fact, there had been no game, so there had been no goal and no score. He had simply wanted her company and to hear what she had to say about this issue or that, to laugh with her about what happened at work or what crazy thing she’d gotten herself into or heard about. The pleasure of her company was a pleasure he’d come to crave like no other. Then the sex had happened.

  His body heated with the memories of her soft, giving body beneath him. Of her hands clutching him, asking for it deeper and harder, trembling and melting, sighing and raining kisses over his face. God, the sex was off the fucking charts! Whether they went at each other like starving animals or soft and easy like they were made of glass, it was perfection. Holding her in his arms as she fell asleep was better than screwing any other woman. There was no one like her. No one could compare . . .

  Sitting up straight, he felt as if he’d been gouged with a hot poker.

  Jesus H. Christ. Did he love her?

  He realized he’d placed his hand over his beating heart as he stared blindly while his inner vision projected images of Zaney’s smile, tears, anger, compassion, passion, irritation.

  His heart beat harder against his palm, telling him what his brain finally received. He loved her.

  He didn’t just want to win her friendship again or see her smile or hear her laugh. Hell, no. Who was he kidding? He wanted Zaney. For himself. He was totally, stupidly in love with the woman.

  God, he was such an idiot. It was a wonder she hadn’t given up on him before now. How could he have accused her of some dumb bet that she could earn his trust and bed him? Like that would be difficult. Jesus, he was a mental midget. Nobody could know Zaney ten minutes without trusting her. And as for jumping into bed with her? He’d wanted to get her naked the moment he’d stared into her green eyes and she’d said, “Oh, it’s you.”

  Oh. It’s you.

  Had she had an inkling then of what would transpire between them? Had he?

  “Yes, Zaney,” he whispered, smiling. “It’s me. It’s us.”

  Chapter 18

  Gone But Not Forgotten

  Bundled in a green corduroy coat, wool cap and scarf, Zaney dipped her head to keep the biting wind from chapping her cheeks and nose. Beside her, her mother’s chunky boots made dents in the snow covering the sidewalk.

  “Aren’t you cold?” Zaney asked, glancing at her mother’s ankle-high boots, black leggings, gray sweater, and lightweight gray windbreaker.

  “No. The sun’s out. Feels wonderful out here.” Her mother flashed her a brilliant smile. “It’s good to get out and go for a brisk walk, isn’t it?”

  Zaney shrugged. “You’re way too happy, Mom.”

  Laughing, Vivian flung an arm around Zaney’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “You’re just down in the dumps, honey. Come on. Frito Pie had a great run and he was dearly loved. What more can any being want out of life? And as for your lover man? That can be easily patched up, if you want to.” She hugged her again. “You want to, right? He sounds like a wonderful guy. Steve and I are dying to meet him.”

  Sighing, Zaney had to agree with her. Getting away from the city to visit her mother and stepfather in Buffalo had cleared her head. The first day she’d offloaded her woes at her mother’s kitchen table. Vivian and Steve had listened, poured her cups of coffee, fed her grilled cheese sandwiches and homemade tomato soup, and commiserated. Today, they had changed their tune. Coffee and sympathy were over. Time to get outside in the freezing air and shed her Moaning Myrtle impression.

  “I dread going back to the apartment and Frito not being there.”

  “You should adopt another dog.”

  “Mother! It’s too soon to even think about that!”

  “Why?” Her mother turned wide, green eyes on her. “Dogs die in shelters every day. Why wait when you can save one today or tomorrow? You have a big heart and a lot of love to give, honey. Go find yourself another fur baby.”

  “I can’t replace Frito like that.”

  “You aren’t replacing him, Zaney. You’re opening your heart to another dog who needs a safe place and a special someone. Frito would approve.” She released Zaney and stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets. “You’re not going to keep licking your wounds over that silly argument you had with Matthew, are you? From what you said, it was bad timing and reckless tongues. I talked to Steve about it last night in bed and we concluded that you should kiss and make up, but first wise him up about his ex. She’s lurking in the edges of his life and she needs to butt out!”

  Zaney crossed her arms to ward off the stinging breeze. “She’s keeping her options open. That’s what she’s doing. She probably wishes she could visit his bed instead of pet the cat.”

  “When it’s over, it’s over. She needs to close the book on him.”

  “That’s what you did, right? With Dad?”

  Her mother narrowed her eyes and her smile lost some of its brilliance. “Yes. God, that seems to have happened ages and ages ago. It’s almost like it happened to someone else and I just heard about it.”

  “We drove by his house when we were in Darien.”

  Her mother stopped. “Seriously? Did you tell him that Fletcher lives there?”

  “Sure. We didn’t see him or anything.”

  “Honey, do you want to see him?”

  “No.” She shook her head to underline her denial. “No. I just . . . you know. We drove by is all.”

  “Did Matt think it was weird that you didn’t stop in for a visit?”

  “No. I told him that I don’t have a relationship with my father. That he moved on and never looked back.”

  “Zaney, what I meant about closing the book is what married people should do, but not parents and children. Fletcher is wrong to have dismissed you from his life. I have no interest in him or what he’s doing because he has no role in my life anymore. But he will always be your father. You will always be his firstborn.” She looped her arm around Zaney’s shoulders, giving her a side hug as they set off walking again. “It still hurts? I thought you’d gotten past it, but maybe you never will. Maybe you shouldn’t.”

  “No, it’s not like that, Mom.” Zaney sniffed, partly from the cold and partly from the emotion welling in her. “I don’t think about him hardly at all, but when I do, I get all pissed off.
It’s like he has this whole other side of him that no one but us knows about.”

  Vivian nodded, slowing as they neared the small, brick house she shared with Steve. “We all have faces we only show to certain people. For instance, Steve knows me in a way no one else has or ever will.”

  Zaney bumped hips with her. “I’m glad you two found each other.”

  “Me, too.” Vivian laughed again, her eyes dancing with lights. “You love Matthew, don’t you?”

  “I . . . uh . . . love?” Zaney tried to laugh it off. “Wow. Love?”

  “Why are you stammering? You love him, Zaney. The past weeks I’ve listened to you sing his praises. It’s been ‘Matthew this and Matthew that’ every time I’ve talked to you. Even when you insisted you two were just friends, I could tell you were falling for him. Are you afraid he doesn’t love you back?”

  The tears that filled her eyes surprised her. She blinked, glad for the breeze that dried the moisture before it spilled onto her cheeks. “I don’t want to lose him, but I know it will probably happen. But I don’t think I could stand to just be friends with him after . . . after, well, you know.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  They walked up the steps to the vestibule and Vivian motioned for Zaney to go in ahead of her. Inside, they shrugged out of their outerwear, hanging them on pegs along the wall.

  “Let’s have some hot chocolate,” Vivian said, motioning Zaney to the kitchen.

  “Sounds good.”

  In the kitchen, Vivian combined milk and chocolate sauce in a pan on the stove. She stirred it while she waited for the liquid to heat. Zaney sat at the kitchen table, listening to the Judge Judy program drifting in from the living room where Steve was probably napping in his recliner. After a few minutes, her mother joined her at the table, bringing steaming mugs with her.

  “You should go back home.”

  Zaney almost choked on the swallow of hot cocoa. Her eyes watered and she laughed. “Well, thanks, Mom!”