She kept reliving her conversation with Harry over and over again. That he had so quickly suggested that she walk away from her career and just work with him on his show stung worst of all. Did no one value what she’d built for herself? Did no one want her to maximize her own potential?
Zoey turned on her laptop and pulled up the flight information for her trip back to Chicago, suddenly feeling like she couldn’t get out of L.A. fast enough. She clicked through a few options then stared at the screen, weighing her decision.
Eighty bucks to change her flight from the following Tuesday to tomorrow morning?
Totally worth it.
Zoey had sublet her apartment when she’d left Chicago. One of her former coworkers at the station was married to a real estate agent who managed short term rentals and had quickly found someone to lease the space for a couple of months. Fortuitously, when she landed back in Chicago, her space had just been vacated. It had only taken a quick text to ask the realtor to leave it empty for her. She’d never been so happy to enter her own apartment. She’d expected it to still have tenants, which would have left her living in a hotel.
Before leaving the city at the end of the summer, she’d turned the guest bedroom of her apartment into an “owner’s closet,” locking all of her work clothes and personal belongings that she didn’t take with her to California into the space. A wardrobe rack next to the window held most of her work clothes. She riffled through them, wondering which would work best for her interview.
Her hand stopped on a red, cropped jacket she’d often paired with her favorite black pencil skirt. She pulled it out, then slammed it back onto the rack with an eye roll. Would she ever escape her mother’s opinions? She reached for a high-necked, sleeveless royal blue dress with wide, white bands trimming either side of the dress, from armpit to hem like racing stripes. The dress made her feel like a million bucks. She told herself she would have picked it even without her mother’s unsolicited commentary, but Zoey wasn’t so sure. As gentle as her mother’s voice was, it was still just. so. loud.
Zoey carried the dress back to her bedroom, hanging it in her mostly empty closet. She had a lot more space in her Chicago apartment than she’d had in Nana’s tiny front bedroom, but she missed the efficiency of the shelves Harry had installed.
She also missed Harry. Even though it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since she’d seen him last, the emotional distance between them made everything that much more painful. She pulled her phone out of her purse and stared at the screen. Should she text him? Let him know she’d left earlier than she’d planned?
She couldn’t think of a reason why he’d care. He’d already told her he didn’t need her help with the kids anymore.
Still. She’d left the state. She owed him a text at least, didn’t she?
Hi. Just wanted you to know I’m already in Chicago. I miss you. I love you. Please don’t give up on me.
No, no, no, no, no. Zoey deleted the message and tried again.
Just wanted you to know I’m in Chicago already. Good luck with your filming in Portland.
Too impersonal? Why did it have to be so hard? She deleted one more time.
I’m sorry things ended the way they did. I’m in Chicago. I already miss you.
Too much? Maybe, but Zoey couldn’t think about it anymore, so she sent the text and tossed her phone onto the bed behind her.
Three minutes later, three hours later, even three days later when Zoey was finished with her interview and out to drinks with the Channel 4 producers who had all but explicitly promised her the evening anchor position, all she could think about was the fact that Harry had never texted back.
She ran into Veronica Darling on her way out of the restaurant.
“Zoey!” Veronica said, rushing up to her. She air-kissed either side of Zoey’s face then leaned back, a huge smile across her face. “I heard you were in town. You’re going for the Channel 4 anchor job, right?”
Zoey eyed her curiously. Veronica seemed surprisingly nonchalant about the possibility of Zoey getting the job. “Yes. But, aren’t you, also?”
Veronica shook her head. “Not anymore. Phil got a job offer that’s too amazing to pass up. We’re moving in a couple of weeks.”
“Oh,” Zoey said, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. She had no idea who Phil actually was. “Um, Phil?”
“What? Oh. I guess it’s been a while since we’ve talked. Phil is my fiancé.” She held out her hand, flashing a rock the size of New Jersey.
“Wow. Congratulations.”
“We met at a coffee shop,” Veronica said. “It was totally cheesy and romantic and blah, blah, blah, here we are six months later.”
“I mean, that’s amazing. And now you’re moving?”
“Crazy, right? We’ll be back next summer for the wedding. But we’re going to Miami, of all places. Can you believe it? I’m so excited to be somewhere warm. And I’ve already reached out to a few stations and have some interviews lined up. I mean, I won’t get an anchor position, not right away, but honestly, I’ll cover Friday night high school football if it means I can spend my mornings lounging on the beach. And the job is so great for Phil. We’re really excited.”
“That’s great,” Zoey said. “Truly. A shame about the anchor job here, though.”
Veronica shrugged dismissively. “I’m not worried about it. Now that you’re back in town, they’re going to give it to you anyway.”
“I’m happy for you,” Zoey said. “I hope you love Miami. I guess I’ll think about you in December when it’s five degrees here.”
Veronica laughed. “Or just come see me. I will not miss Chicago winters, that’s for sure.”
Zoey said goodbye and caught a cab home. She usually pulled out her phone the second her butt landed in a cab just to keep herself occupied enough that the driver never felt like starting a conversation. But tonight she left her phone in her bag. She stared out the window, watching as the city flew past her window.
Veronica made it seem so easy. Even though she’d been working, building her career for years, it didn’t even seem like she’d hesitated to give it all up for her fiancé’s work. Well, and for seventy-degree Decembers.
“You okay?” her cab driver asked, glancing at her through the rearview mirror.
“Hmm?” Zoey asked.
“You look . . . pensive. Contemplative,” he said. “Just asking if you’re okay.”
“Oh. Yes. Thank you.”
“You’re that lady on the news, right? Channel 12?”
Heat warmed Zoey’s cheeks. It had been a while since anyone had recognized her. “Yes. I mean, not anymore. I’m still on the news. Just a different station.”
“Big job, handling the news like you do. You ever meet anyone famous?”
Zoey smiled. “Sometimes. I interviewed Michael Jordan once.”
“No kidding? Nice guy?”
She nodded. “Very. What about you? You ever pick up anyone famous?”
“A few times. You know the guy that wrote Hamilton? He rode in my cab. And I drove President Obama once, back before he was President.”
“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 sid
e 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,” Dare
n 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.”
Always You: A Sweet Romantic Comedy (ABCs of Love Collection Books 5-8) Page 64