“A firefighter?” The mental image of Zebb in a CFD uniform has my girly parts slowly smoking. Then again, he’d always looked good in his football uniform.
He doesn’t mention that between his finance major and being a fireman, he was in the NFL. This is the only thing I know about him.
“Your turn.” His fingers coast along the part in my hair, like a movie scene from some teenage film. Girl against locker. Guy leaning over her. That never happened to me in real life.
“I’m a manager for Ashford’s.”
“The department store?” His brows lift.
“The one and only.” My gaze lowers to our feet for some reason. His large boots are on either side of my slender heeled ones. I should be cold standing outside, but Zebb is like a personal space heater, crowding me in and warming me up.
“I thought you were in Colorado.” His voice lowers, full of confusion and questions.
Leaving had been my plan. I went to college in Colorado, thinking it was so trendy to head for the mountains and get away from a major metropolis. Only, I wasn’t a ski-loving weed-smoking kind of gal (though there was nothing wrong with either thing). I’d missed the familiar. I transferred schools and came home. Then I floundered for years before landing at Ashford’s.
Somehow, admitting all that makes me feel like a failure, so I don’t explain myself.
“Now I’m back.”
His eyes narrow. “How long?”
“How long what?”
“How long have you been here.”
“Almost twenty years.”
Zebb hisses under his breath and presses off the fence. He stands taller and slips his hands into his pockets. His frame is so much larger than I remember. His shoulders are wider. His legs thicker.
“You’ve been here all this time.” His gaze drops to our feet. His voice quiet as if I wasn’t meant to hear him. Then his head pops up. “I thought you wanted to open a bookstore in a small town.”
Or a soap shop or a specialty boutique, but that was neither here nor there.
“Oh, well, that dream died.” Dismissively, I wave, brushing away the lie. The dream still lives deep inside me, but the reality is too far away to envision. I’d gone to school for business management. I wanted to be an entrepreneur of sorts. Working in a department store had not been my end goal but when I returned to Chicago, the only job I could find at first were salesclerk positions.
I briefly explain how I worked my way up through Ashford’s management program and tell Zebb my current accolades.
“Impressive.” With his brows lifted, the spark in his eyes says he means it. A sly smile curls his lips. “How is your dad?”
“He moved to South Carolina.”
As an eighteen-year-old daughter, and an only child to a single father, I had freedoms I suspect most young girls didn’t have. It was easy to sneak out of my house or sneak Zebb in which was a huge advantage in keeping our summer fling a secret. I wasn’t ashamed to be seen with him. If anything, he didn’t want people to know we were together.
Want to keep you all to myself. My foolish young heart believed the sentiment.
After I went to college, I lumped Zebb in with my mom and dad. I just wasn’t good enough for anyone to want me long term.
“He had a heart attack.” Yep, shortly after I returned to Chicago, my dad decided to move away and my last shred of familiar was gone.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
The next hour passes in the small talk I dread but I learn more about Zebb. His mother, brother, and sister still live in the area. His nephew goes to Immaculate Academy, not on scholarship.
The reminder hints how different we’d been as teenagers. I’d never been to his home. He hadn’t introduced me to his family. We didn’t do public things.
The way he kissed me then made none of it matter.
But there’s still one topic he hasn’t mentioned.