The dressing room sexcapades. Tonight’s dinner at his home. His gift to me.
The universe seems to be teasing me and I’m waiting for reality to set in. For the moment where Zebb and I separate as we did when we were teens. Maybe he’s just caught up in the holidays. I’m a project for him as he wants to change my mind about this season.
A knot forms in my stomach.
Zebb returns about fifteen minutes later and slumps onto the couch next to me.
“Does she go to bed that easily?”
Zebb sighs. “Yeah. She doesn’t really need me to read to her. And although we have read some books together, she prefers to read on her own now.” He scrubs his knuckles under his chin and his stubble makes a scratchy sound. “She’s growing so fast.”
I smile. I don’t have much interaction with children other than the hordes that come through Ashford’s.
“I don’t know if you remember, but my dad died when I was young.”
I nod as I do remember this about him.
“We didn’t have much which is why I was on scholarship at Immaculate Academy.” Zebb sinks a little lower into his couch. “But at some point, you have to let shit go. Like from that far back. Being a kid and losing my dad. Being a teen and being known as the scholarship kid. I get that it fucks with your head and hurts your heart, but at some point, you have to let it stop defining who you are.”
I swallow uncomfortably and set my wineglass on the table before the couch. “I don’t think we can ever erase what’s happened before now.”
Zebb’s hand comes to my lower back. “Not erase it but accept it. It is what it is. Maybe it put us on a path. Maybe it felt like defining moments, but it didn’t determine who you are. You determine who you are, Eva.”
“Is this about the camper?” I narrow my eyes at him over my shoulder. His hand strokes up my spine and squeezes my nape.
“This is about your mom.” He pauses, sympathy in his eyes. “In some ways, it makes sense why you hate the holiday. But don’t let her do that to you. Don’t let her steal this time of year from you. Don’t give her that power.”
I should tell him about my mom, but again, I don’t want to talk about her now.
“It wasn’t just my mom, though. My dad played into it as well with his bitterness and hurt. I don’t know how to get around it. And where I work . . . Christmas is just so . . .” I hold up a hand and expand my fingers before my face. “So in your face.”
“Have you ever considered another profession?”
“Retail is all I’ve known but maybe it is time to get out.” I stare at my hands, clasped together near my knees.
Zebb tightens his fingers on my nape. “Whatever happened to you owning your own shop?”
I shrug, thinking of the business plan I’d once written up. The dream location. The perfect little store. I’d given up the idea when I came home at twenty-years old. I wouldn’t be settling in some small town but remaining in Chicago. The plan still sits on a thumb drive somewhere.
“Some dreams change.”
He should understand. He gave up the NFL to be a father.
“Or alter,” Zebb says, leaning forward, pressing his shoulder to mine. The outside of his knee taps against the outside of mine. “I had football and I had Tam. They didn’t happen at the same time, so I got to experience them both. Maybe it’s time for a change for you as well.”
I sigh, swiping a hand through my hair. This isn’t a topic I want to talk about with him. He’s already had it all. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.
His solid hand comes to my nape again and he jostles me. “Okay, no more serious talk during your birthday. Want to watch a movie? What’s your favorite Christmas flick?”
I laugh. “Zebb, if you know how I feel about the holiday, you know I don’t have a favorite movie.”
Zebb eyes me before tipping my chin so I face him. “Pick one.”
“Serendipity,” I whisper. It’s not really a holiday classic but takes place in the winter.
His brows pinch. “What’s it about?”
“Fated lovers.”