He told me he didn’t have a girlfriend.
He assured me he didn’t have a wife.
But the sound of his sweet yet choppy stammer has warning signs blinking like a late-night stop light.
Red. Red. Red.
When a minute feels more like ten, I excuse myself from no one in particular because Zebb literally left me standing alone in a crowd of people I’ve only just met. Weaving my way through the now drunken Santas and the little helpers who look ready to take their snowball chance, I exit the pub and find Zebb pacing on the sidewalk, speaking into his phone.
“She was fine when I left.”
Silence follows his concern.
“I understand. They just happen.” He exhales and his warm breath sends a stream of frustration into the cold night air.
More silence.
“Okay. I just . . . I’ll come home. Give me twenty minutes.”
After another beat, he hangs up and bows his head. With his back to me, the weight of the world seems to rest on his shoulders. The Ghost of Christmas Present has something scary in his closet.
“Is everything alright?” My voice trembles whether from the chilly night or the fear that he’s hiding something big from me I can’t be certain.
Zebb spins. “Yeah. I’m sorry about that. I hate to do this, but I need to cut our night short.” He averts his gaze from me and peers out toward the street.
I risk stepping up to him although the vibe coming off him says not to touch him. He’s already touched me rather intimately, but suddenly, intuition tells me it was all wrong to accept his fingers inside me or his kiss against my mouth.
“Whatever it is, maybe you should just tell me.” My voice grows edgy as I steel myself for the truth. His rejection feels like an unexpected snowball aimed at the face.
“My daughter is sick.”
“Excuse me?” I blink. I swallow. I stare at him. In the ten days since our reunion, he hasn’t mentioned a daughter.
“I really need to go. I’ll take you home first and then—”
“If she’s so sick, you should get to her right away. I’ll just call an Uber.”
Zebb straightens. His eyes finally meet mine. “I’m not sending you home in an Uber.”
“Then take me with you. Unless you can’t.” The accusation is there. He’s married, isn’t he? He doesn’t wear a ring and I’ve been duped into thinking he’s available. The thought seems ridiculous even to my own head which designed it but I’m suddenly unable to breathe believing this as truth.
“I told you I’m not married.”
“Well, what do I really know about you now?” I wave out at him.
Zebb steps toward me. “I didn’t feel like shoving two decades into ten days.”
I nod. It makes sense. It’s emotionally impossible to squeeze all those years into a matter of days, but a daughter seems like a pretty big thing to not mention on day one.
“Maybe you should just get to your daughter.” My voice drops as I cross my arms. It’s cold outside in my thin dress and nearly bare shoulders, but the frigid air is nothing compared to the polar vortex suddenly between Zebb and me.
“Tam. Her name is Tamarra and she’s eight.”
I swallow around a sudden lump in my throat. He has a child. He loved someone enough to have a baby with her.
“How many other kids do you have?”
“Tam is an only child.”