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I laugh, shaking my head. “You’re a smart kid,” I tell him. “You know that, right?”
He laughs also. “Yeah,” he agrees, “Mom says I get it from her.” He laughs even more. “But when I do something bad, I’m yours.”
I can’t help but laugh at that. “Well, good thing you got a mix of both,” I say, and he nods.
We spend three hours riding, and when we get home, we both head to the shower before I make him something to eat. He doesn’t even try to stay up longer than he has to. I walk around the house, making sure all the lights are off and we are all locked up before heading back to my bedroom. Pulling the cover back and sliding in, I grab my phone, pull up her thread, and read the last line in the chat.
Zara: I’m ready, Cowboy.
I close it, not wanting to scroll to the top of the thread tonight. I put my phone on my bedside table before shutting off the light. Text her! my head screams at me, but then my heart stops me from doing it. “If she wanted to talk to you, she would have texted you,” I tell myself, wondering what she is doing right this minute. Wondering if she’s sitting on the couch watching one of the reality television shows she told me about. Or maybe she’s out to dinner on a date. That thought alone makes me want to vomit. I turn onto my back, stretching out one arm where she slept the whole time she was here and the other on my chest. “You knew it was for two weeks,” I remind myself, “and she’s moved on.” I close my eyes. “Now you have to also.”
23
ZARA
I’m walking down the street, and the sounds of sirens come from around the corner, blazing down the street. I take a deep inhale as I get to the red light, waiting for my turn to cross, when my phone rings from my jacket pocket. I pull it out, looking down, and see it’s Matty.
“Hey,” I greet, putting the phone to my ear, seeing the light turn green and taking a step off the sidewalk.
“Hey yourself,” he snaps. “Is there something you need to tell me?” he asks, and I literally stop mid step. The back of my neck gets hot, and my stomach gets more nauseous than it’s been for the past couple of days. “Hello?” His voice goes high. “Is there something I should know?” I’m literally stuck in the middle of the street until I hear a horn blare from behind me, and the guy opens his window to tell me to get the fuck out of the way.
I jump and rush to the side. “I don’t know what you mean.” I play dumb, wondering how he found out about me and Gabriel. No one knew except for the four of us. I know Zoey would never tell him, and Sofia would never, ever share that information with him. She hasn’t even wanted to say it out loud.
“He fucking cheated on you?” he hisses, and I hang my head back. Thankfully, it’s just that.
“Oh, that,” I say, laughing nervously. “Who told you?”
“It’s not who told me. It’s why didn’t you tell me?” he retorts, and I continue walking down the street. “Zara, that’s fucked up.”
“Meh.” I shrug. “It is what it is.” I look down at my boots as I walk. Cowboy boots are not my normal wear, but when I get a chance, I always put them on. It makes me feel somewhat closer to him. Just thinking about him makes my stomach flutter, and my heart hurt. It’s been over a month, and there has been nothing from him. Not a text, not a comment on my social media, nothing. I mean, I don’t even know if he’s big on social media because his last post on his social was from November, but I know he always scrolls through his feed at night.
“It is what it is?” Matty hisses. “If I catch this fucking clown, I’m going to beat the ever-loving shit out of him.”
“And then what?” I ask him.
“Then nothing. Then he’s going to have no teeth, and I’ll be happy,” he huffs.
“Then you’ll have a record and become a felon,” I say calmly, “and frankly, he’s not worth all that trouble.”
“What the fuck?” he says, and I don’t even give him a chance to say anything.
“It is a blessing in disguise that it happened, and I should thank my lucky stars.”
“Thank your lucky stars? What have you done to Zara? Can she come to the phone?” He laughs. “The Zara I knew would have sliced the bottoms of his feet.”
“And taken every screw in the place,” I agree with him. “But I’ve had time to think about it,” I admit, “and I’m so glad he did what he did.”
“You’re glad?” he repeats.
“I mean, it sucked at the time. But—” Then I met Gabriel, I say silently. “Now it’s done, and we move on.”
“Why don’t you come and stay with us for a bit?” he offers, and I take a deep inhale but then close my eyes when I feel like I’m going to vomit. The nausea rushes through me for a couple of seconds before leaving.
“I’m busy,” I tell him, not lying to him. “I got five new clients last week, and I have to do a walk-through with each for the next month.” I look around for the restaurant I’m supposed to be at.
“Mom says you haven’t been feeling well,” he says softly.
“I’m fine.” I walk between parked cars, waiting to cross. “I was just nauseated is all,” I admit to him. It started two weeks after I was back. I know exactly why I’m sick to my stomach all the time. Except I’m not about to admit to my mother and my brother that it’s because I miss Gabriel so much it’s made me sick to my stomach. So I just pretend I caught a bug, hoping nobody catches on. “Anyway, I have to go. I’m here,” I tell him. “Thank you for calling and checking up on me.”
