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“Yeah right, fucking nothing,” I muttered, brushing past her and out of the kitchen to the sound of her laughter. She’d somehow managed to get a few extra questions in, and I decided to blame that on Michigan too. Bloody Wolverines.
Thankfully, she’d dropped it by the next day.
“What movie have you watched more than any other?”
“Are you joking?” I asked her.
“No.”
“What’s yours?”
She stared past my shoulder for a moment as she thought. “Back to the Future.”
“Really?” I asked. “That’s your favorite movie?”
“I didn’t say favorite,” she pointed out. “I said what movie have you seen the most. I always watch it when it’s on TV, and it’s on a lot.”
I conceded that one with a grunt. Then I pointed at Mira. “What do you think?”
Zoe’s face bent slightly in confusion.
I sighed. “Duck, what’s your favorite movie?”
Mira was pushing her food around her plate, and her head snapped up. “Moana! We watch it?”
Zoe laughed, and even though I rolled my eyes, the mood in the kitchen was light and happy while we finished our dinner.
“If you could have only one meal for the rest of your life, what would it be?”
I cocked my head to the side as I grilled chicken for dinner the following night. Mira was drawing with sidewalk chalk on the concrete, and Zoe was sitting in one of the lounge chairs with her Kindle in hand.
“Do I get sick of this meal?” I asked.
“No. And it never makes you gain weight either.”
“Not chicken and veggies, I can tell you that.”
She laughed, and I tucked the sound away in my brain. Something to think about later. Something to pull out when I wanted to make my heart feel warm and happy.
What was my big accomplishment for the day? I’d made Zoe Valentine laugh.
Simpering.
Fool.
Zoe set her Kindle down. “That’s not your answer, is it? Because that’s cheating.”
“Not my answer,” I told her. “Just thinking.”
“Mine is pizza,” she said. “And mint chocolate chip ice cream for dessert.”
Zoe would inevitably spend all day thinking about her one question and hit me with it sometime around dinner.
“You and that ice cream,” I mused.
She arched an eyebrow. “It’s the perfect flavor.”
Yeah, and every night when she opened the freezer to dig her spoon into the container, making those fucking noises after a few bites, I had the startling realization that I’d probably always get hard when I smelled mint and chocolate.
