by Lili Valente
“That’s right, you’ve got it!” Zoey shouts encouragement as I mimic her moves—more finger-wagging and pointing with some spinning mixed in.
Soon, the Captain is bobbing his head in time to the beat and bouncing from side to side, so clearly swept up in the magic of disco that I forget to be self-conscious. I’m an average fast dancer on my best days, and this is the first time I’ve ever boogied to ABBA, but with Zoey grinning and spinning beside me and a happy animal croaking his joy as he hops down from the light to dance on the desk, I finally get it.
Disco can be a blast…as long as you’re in the right company.
But I think I’d enjoy watching paint dry with Zoey.
As I spin her under my arm, gazing down into her blissed-out face, I’m struck by a rush of emotion so intense it’s like a wave knocking me off my feet. It hits hard and fast—shocking, but at the same time somehow so expected.
I’m already in love with her, not simply on my way there.
I’m in love with Zoey, and it isn’t something that happened all of a sudden. This has been building for months, maybe even years.
Maybe even before Kim and I called it quits…
Looking back over the past few years, all my best memories have Zoey in them. She’s been my partner, my co-conspirator, and the person I turn to when I need to talk to someone who knows how to listen with her whole heart. And yes, she’s right—I could stand to open up more—but for a man raised in a house full of Let’s-Not-Talk-About-Feelings alpha males, I already share more of my vulnerable underbelly than any of my brothers.
And I share that part of myself with her. Not with Kim. Not with Dad, Deacon, Dylan, or Rafe. Not with my friends in town or my buddies from high school or any of the very nice shelter volunteers with whom I’ve formed close connections in the past few years.
Zoey is my touchstone, my home base, the person I trust for advice that comes from a good heart and a level head. And I know she feels the same way about me. We fit together on a molecular level, in that soul-deep way I’d deluded myself into thinking Kim and I would find if I just stayed the course and kept trying to get better, stronger, more successful and perfect in her eyes.
But Kim and I never would have made it for the long haul. We were every bit as mismatched as Zoey and I are a perfect fit.
So really, the amazing thing isn’t that I’m madly in love with her. The crazy thing is how long it took me to see the truth right in front of my face.
Honestly, it scares the shit out of me.
I’ve always thought I could trust my gut and intuition. I’m the person my brothers have come to for advice, ever since we were kids, and I’ve always felt I could be trusted to offer grounded, realistic solutions.
But this whole time I’ve been so fucking blind…
As “Dancing Queen” ends and something from Saturday Night Fever begins to play, Zoey reaches out to squeeze my hand. “You want to grab him? Or you want me to give it a go?”
For a second, I’m confused—so lost in thought I’m not sure what she’s talking about—but then she glances at the parrot happily grooving on the desk, and it all becomes clear. So clear that I don’t hesitate to say, “Let’s dance some more.”
Her eyes widen. “You’re kidding.”
I shake my head, absolutely certain. “I’m not. He’s having a blast, I’m having a blast, he’s not sneezing anymore…”
“It’s a win, win, win.” Zoey lifts her arms and links her wrists behind my neck with a fond smile. “I like this fast-dancing side of you. And you’re really not bad at it, you know.”
“And you’re the sweetest liar, I know.” I kiss her as we sway in a circle, loving the way her laughter tastes on my lips.
So I’ve been asleep.
So what?
I’m awake now. The blinders are off, and the way forward is clear, and I’m going to make my first move as a clear-headed man in love tonight.
Chapter 18
Tristan
After a chaotic morning, things mellow out as the day moves forward. The Captain hops back into his cage with a spring in his step, the dogs enjoy naps in the shade in between pre-adoption meetings with prospective humans, the more feral cats tolerate a low-key socializing session with Violet and Zoey, and I make plans.
Plans as I clean out the stables.
Plans as I draw up an order for a gravel delivery for the parking lot.
Plans as Zoey hitches a ride home with Violet—needing extra time to get into full Ursula costume—and I promise to be home as soon as I finish the final evening feeding and get the office ready for our faithful volunteers to run the show this weekend.
I’m flying pretty high—anxious, but certain I don’t want to wait another second to tell Zoey the way I feel—when the arrival of a last-minute visitor sends storm clouds surging in.
Of all the days for Kim to decide to show up for an unexpected visit…
What the hell is she doing here, anyway?
Cursing softly beneath my breath, and steeling myself for a run-in with my ex, I lift a hand as she approaches the counter, tugging my earbuds out with the other. “Hey, I was just doing a last clean up around the office. We’re closing in ten minutes.”
Kim smiles thinly, her shoulders hunching as she rests her arms on the reception counter. “I know. I waited until the end of the day on purpose. I was hoping we could talk… If you’re not too busy.”
Jaw clenching, I nod as I tuck the push vacuum into its corner behind Luke’s bed. I’d rather get out of here ASAP, but maybe this talk will mean an end to the daily texting. “Sure. Just let me grab Luke from the dog run. We can talk on the way to the car.”
“I’d rather it be just the two of us, actually,” she says, making me stop in the hallway, turning back to face her as she adds, “I get kind of sad when I see him, you know? I’ve really missed him since I’ve been away.”
Sliding my hands into my jeans pockets, I amble back toward the counter. “He missed you, too. After you left, the eating Zoey’s socks thing got so much worse. For a while there, I thought I was going to have to put a muzzle on him to keep him out of surgery.”
Kim’s forehead bunches in concern. “Oh, man, the poor guy. I’m sure he must have been so confused.” She pauses, lacing and unlacing her fingers as she sighs. “I’m sure you must have been confused, too.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to do this, Kim. That’s why I haven’t been responding to your texts. Maybe nine months ago, even six months ago, this could have been helpful, but now…” I lift my shoulders and let them fall. “It’s over. It’s in the past, and I think that’s where it should stay. We had a good run, things ended, and now we can both move on.”
“But not as friends,” she says, her eyes beginning to shine. “You don’t want to be friends, do you? No matter how cool I’m trying to be about Zoey?”
Head rearing back, I blink. “Excuse me? Why wouldn’t you be cool about Zoey?”
“Come on, Tristan,” Kim says, her voice taking on that sugar-frosted edge that used to soften me up, even in the middle of a fight. “You know why. Surely she’s told you at least some version of what happened between us in college.”
I hesitate, not wanting to admit that Zoey hasn’t told me much. Being kept in the dark by my pretend fiancée won’t play well right now. Worse, it would give Kim another thing to pick at before she gets around to whatever really brought her here in the first place.
So I cross my arms, deliberately keeping my response vague. “She has. What about it?”
“Well, you’re a smart guy. You know that every story has two sides.” Kim circles slowly around the counter to stand in the doorway leading into the office.
She’s wearing a nearly transparent pale blue skirt I used to love and a white linen shirt unbuttoned far enough to show the considerable cleavage above her camisole, but she does nothing for me. Less than nothing. I actually find the sight of her vaguely repulsive and wish she wasn’t blocking the sw
iftest route to my car.
I’m finally completely free of her. Free…
It’s enough to make my heart lift, even with Kim still standing there with a stubborn set to her jaw, clearly determined to drag me back into her orbit. But she’s out of luck this time. I am beyond her reach, so over her I’ll never have to worry about Kim so much as bruising my heart again, let alone breaking it.
“Yes, I said some tough things to Zoey.” Kim presses her lips together as she shakes her head. “But after all the lies she told about me, I couldn’t help myself. Seriously, she made up so many crazy stories, Tristan. Just…insane stuff.” She blinks, lifting her gaze to the ceiling. “At first, I thought she was just jealous and was willing to do absolutely anything to get attention. But then I started to worry that it might be something…more serious.”
I study Kim’s face, fighting the urge to tell her to go shovel her shit somewhere else because no one here is buying, but a part of me is curious as to what’s behind this smear attempt. Does she just want to make sure I never find happiness with someone else? Or is there something else on her agenda?
Surely she can’t think there’s a snowflake’s chance in hell of the two of us getting back together?
“Get to the point, Kim,” I say, instead of the several, harsher things floating through my head. “I assume there is a point?”
Kim presses her hands together in front of her. “Please, don’t be mad. I promise I’m not trying to screw things up for you. If you’re happy with Zoey, then I’m happy for you. I’m just worried and want to make sure you’re safe.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Safe from who? Zoey?”
“That’s why I’ve been texting so often,” Kim says, the skin around her eyes tightening with worry. “Just to make sure everything is still good with you two. I mean, after the way she stalked me in college, I wouldn’t put physical violence past her. Especially if she thought that it would hurt me in some way. I can tell she doesn’t like that I’m with her ex. She’s been coming over every morning and driving Bear crazy, spying on him through the fence while he’s working in the garden and asking all kinds of personal questions about us.”
I hold up both hands, shaking my head. “What are you even talking about, Kim? Seriously, you sound like a crazy person right now.”
Kim’s hands fall helplessly to her sides. “I know! I’m sorry. But when you’re talking about crazy people, sometimes you end up sounding crazy. But I swear to you, Zoey’s acting weird again, the way she did in college. All…obsessed with me and weird, and honestly, if I’d realized Zoey from college was also your friend Zoey from work, I would have warned you about her years ago, Tristan. Immediately.” She shakes her head with a sigh. “I would have probably encouraged you to fire her. Yes, she may have changed and gotten psychological help or whatever, but I went through too much with that girl to trust her with anyone I care about.”
My breath rushes out as tension digs into my face. I want to shut this down, but I have no idea what to say to Kim right now. It’s all so wild. I have no idea how to connect her story with the Zoey I know.
But then, I also don’t know anything about what happened between Kim and Zoey in college, because Zoey refuses to tell me.
“Because I still care about you.” Kim takes one slow step closer and then another. “I know I did a shit job of showing it, but… I was scared, Tris. I was only twenty-five. I didn’t feel ready to walk down the aisle. I had to prove to myself that I could make it on my own first. If I hadn’t, I never would have had the faith in myself that I have now. I would have always worried that I’d be helpless without you, and that’s no way to build a strong marriage.”
Driving a clawed hand through my hair, I close my eyes, suddenly so fucking tired.
I don’t want to wander down memory lane with Kim. I don’t want to rehash the details of our break-up or remind her of the cruel way she ended things. I just want to go home, take a power nap, and wake up and forget this conversation ever happened.
“I have to go, Kim,” I say, sniffing as I open my eyes. “I can’t unpack all this right now. Maybe ever. Nothing you’re saying makes sense to me, and I can’t go back. Neither of us can.”
“People say that,” Kim whispers, tears filling her eyes. “But it’s not true. Sometimes the only way forward is back. That’s why I’m here Tristan. I can’t move on with Bear or anyone else until I know you’re okay. You’re the most important person in my life…even if you’re not in my life anymore.”
“I’m okay,” I say, my throat tight. “I’m better than okay, actually.”
“Are you really, though?” she asks, her throat working. “If you don’t even know the woman you’re about to marry?”
“I know Zoey.” I narrow my gaze, hoping Kim can see how close I am to asking her to leave. “And this conversation is over. Move on, Kim. Be happy. Let us both let go of the past.”
After a long moment, she nods, her gaze dropping to the floor. “Okay. I’m sorry if I upset you. Truly, all I want is to make sure you stay safe.” She shifts back a step, breath hitching. “And to tell you I’m sorry for hurting you. If there’s one thing I could take back in my entire life, that would be it.”
Before I can respond, Kim turns and hurries out of the office, across the deserted waiting room, and through the front door into the rosy evening sunlight.
I watch her go, unable to name the feelings rushing through my chest. I suppose I should feel vindicated—she clearly regrets the shitty way she broke things off. Or maybe I should be experiencing a heaping helping of grim satisfaction—she broke my heart, but it looks like her heart didn’t escape unscathed. Or maybe I should simply be relieved that it’s finally over. She said her piece, I listened, and we agreed to disagree before amicably parting ways.
But all I feel as she gets into her car and drives away is…confused.
And sad.
And angry that Kim’s put a damper on the fun of the day.
But then, her visit hasn’t changed anything, really. I still trust Zoey, I still care about Zoey, and I’m still planning to tell her how much she means to me. Tonight. As soon as I put the finishing touches on my plan.
Thoughts shifting back to my romance to-do list, I fetch Luke and head out, locking the door behind me. By the time Luke and I reach the hardware store—mere minutes before they close—I’ve put Kim mostly out of my mind. I’ll talk through what happened with Zoey when I get home, and then we’ll move on to bigger and better things—like turning another aspect of our pretend into sweet, sweet reality.
Chapter 19
Zoey
You know you’ve reached a special place in a friendship when you find yourself standing in your shower wearing nothing but a bandeau bikini top and a pair of black spandex shorts, while your girlfriend paints you from hairline to cleavage in purple body spray.
The thought makes me want to laugh, but I keep my eyes closed and my breath held, having learned the hard way about the unpleasantness of inhaling body paint.
“One more second,” Violet says, moving the misting wand over my shoulders. “Lift your ponytail. You don’t want purple hair.”
I oblige, and a moment later, Violet shouts, “Done!” and flicks off the motor on the spray kit. “But don’t move,” she adds. “Give yourself a few seconds to dry first.”
“Thank you for this,” I say, eyes slowly blinking open as the sticky feeling on my lids fades. “Truly, it goes on so much smoother with help.”
“My pleasure.” Violet crosses her arms, studying me with a bemused smile. “Though I think you’re the only woman in the world who thinks Halloween is a good time to paint herself the color of an eggplant and slap on a gray wig.”
“A white wig,” I correct.
“Oh, so more of an eighty-year-old woman than a sixty-year-old one? Be still my heart… How will poor Tristan ever control himself?”
I lift my nose into the air. “Oh, ye of little faith. You just wait. My Ursula is going
to be both sexy and unique. I may not be a pro at romance or relationships, but I know how to Halloween.”
“You use it as a verb,” Violet says, arching a brow.
“I do.” I narrow my eyes and smile. “And I think that tells you all you need to know about my dedication to celebrating this holiday properly.”
“I stand corrected, then. And I can’t wait to see the final result.” She glances at her step tracker with a wince and a cluck of her tongue. “But if I’m going to be properly decked out myself, I’ve got to run. Marjorie can only squeeze me in for an up-do between five and five-thirty.”
I make shooing motions. “Go. Get pretty. I’ll see you at the party.”
“Do I need to bring anything?” Violet asks, tossing her long hair over her shoulder as she backs toward the door. “Ice? Wine? Orange cupcakes with spider and skeleton rings on top?”
I shake my head. “Just bring yourself. According to Tristan, these people always hire a caterer, so…”
Violet rolls a shoulder. “Oh, well, oo-la-la. Hopefully my outfit will be up to snuff. I’ve never been to a fancy-person Healdsburg party before. My friends live over by the ball field and serve hot dogs. And they definitely want you to bring your own beer.”
“He said they’re super nice,” I assure her. “And I’m sure your mystery costume will be fine. Seriously, you would look gorgeous in an old sack.”
“But not in a gray wig,” she teases, darting out of the bathroom before I can throw the bottle of shampoo at her.
“You’ll see!” I shout. “It’s going to be amazing.”
“I bet it is,” comes a deeper voice from down the hall, making my blood pressure spike. “Bye, Violet. Thanks for painting my sea witch.”
“My pleasure. Your sea witch is looking pretty foxy in there in nothing but a bikini top, so be sure to brace yourself for impact,” Violet says over the sound of the opening door. “See you two lovebirds later.”