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“He’s been helping Lucas out at the shop. Getting to know the other business owners on Main. On Monday, he had a VA appointment in Ithaca. He’s looking at getting a small business loan.”
“No way? For what?”
“Good question.” I told Mazzie all about the restaurant, and by the time I was done, she looked thoughtful.
“So he’s wanting to work for himself, doesn’t mind the long hours, but isn’t sure about a full-on restaurant due to his lack of cooking skills. He does know he can hire a chef or cook, right?”
“He does. But he said it’s just not the perfect fit. Anyway, I know he’ll figure it out.”
“Must be tough,” Natalie said, “having a skill set that isn’t necessarily applicable to civilian life. And then with a plan on top of it, having the rug pulled out from under him. Especially being with someone who’s about as put together as they come.”
“Me? Put together? Says who?” I laughed.
“Everyone,” Charlee said. “You’re great at your job. Have as much discipline as anyone I know. Gym. Your home organization. I wouldn’t want to compete.”
“As if you need to,” I said. The girls continued talking, moving on to Natalie’s boyfriend problems. Men. Why did they have to be such shits sometimes?
My mind wandered back to a week ago when I’d come home early from work. Something Natalie said reminded me of my conversation with Nate that day about me deserving a “wine guy.”
“Holy shit on a cracker,” Natalie said.
I only had to look in her direction to see the problem. Erik was walking right toward us. No, no, no.
“Afternoon, ladies.”
The others grumbled what could be construed as greetings. Or not. Was hard to tell. Charlee looked as if she wanted to throttle him, and I didn’t blame her.
“If you’re looking for your stuff—” I said.
“I’m not looking for my stuff. Zoe, can we talk for a second?”
I didn’t need the girls to validate the fact that this was a bad idea. A terrible, no good, very bad idea.
And yet. . . I did have a few choice words for him.
Standing—a feat getting out of those Adirondack chairs with my wine glass in hand—I silently followed him to the edge of the deck, ignoring Natalie’s “oh boy” from behind me.
When we reached a semi-private spot, Erik turned to me and blurted out, “I want you back.”
I’d just been about to take a sip of wine. Thank goodness I hadn’t. Erik would be wearing pinot noir at the moment otherwise, though maybe spitting out my wine on his pristine white shirt wouldn’t be such a bad thing.
“Are you fucking serious right now?”
“Deadly serious.”
Holy shit. He was.
“Erik,” I reminded the dipshit. “You’re engaged.”
“Not anymore. Zoe, I made a huge mistake. Got caught up in this fantasy that turned out not to be real. I know that now. The second she moved in, I couldn’t help comparing her to you, and—”
“Stop,” I said, not wanting the poor guy to waste his breath. “None of this matters, Erik. We’re not getting back together.”
His eyes narrowed. “Because of Nate.”
It took me a second to put the pieces together of how he knew Nate’s name. “If I were not dating someone, it still wouldn’t matter. You broke up with me for another woman, got engaged, and then apparently dis-engaged, in the span of a month. Those aren’t the actions of a guy who knows what he wants.”
“Except I do now. That’s my point.”
