Page 7 of Scars on my Heart

I could imagine Dylan standing there with that smug eleven-year-old smile on his face, just egging on his brother. I let out a sigh. “Dylan, I am this close to not bringing home pizza and sending you both to bed without dinner. Now, please, give your brother the cookies, and I will be home as soon as our pizza is ready."

"Dylan...give me....the..." Noah screamed in the background.

I waited, listening hard, only to hear Noah thank his brother. "There, he has them now. Happy?"

I was about to respond when the line went dead. I looked down at my phone, ended the call, and shoved it back into my purse and turned to pull the door open. I walked in, not paying any attention to what was in front of me. Almost instantly, I bounced off what felt like a brick wall and almost fell to the ground, but felt hands grab me before I hit the pavement.

"Oh my god, I am so..." I looked up in time to recognize the man from the bookstore this morning. Zach, that was his name. I stopped speaking and took a quick second to gather my wits.

"Sorry?" he muttered. "You really ought to watch where you are going."

"What?" I bit back. "You were the one rushing on out of the store. Don’t you think you should watch where you are going?"

He met my eyes, rolled his, and marched out the door in a huff. I was about to step inside when I stopped. There was no way he was going to treat me like this again.

I turned back around and stepped out into the street, looked both ways but couldn’t see him. Irritated, I went back into the pizza place and got in line when my cell phone rang. Reaching into my purse, I saw it was the boys.

“Hello. What’s wrong?” I could hear the defeat in my voice after that run-in.

“Mom, do you think you could bring home some pop and chips for tonight?”

I looked at the line at the pizza parlour and let out a sigh. “Sure, I’ll go to the grocery store before I order the pizza, okay? So, I may be a little later than I would have been.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Welcome.” I shoved my phone into my purse and made my way around the corner to the grocery store. I entered, grabbed a cart, and began making my way through the store over to the junk food aisle. I was about to round the corner when another cart rammed into the base of mine. Irritation growing, I poked my head around the corner and was about to apologize when I caught sight of Zach.

“You again!” I gritted.

This time, a smile fell onto his lips. “Apparently so. Sorry about that. I wasn’t—”

“Paying attention?” I grumbled. “Like earlier?”

This time he chuckled. When he wasn’t scowling or yelling, he was a handsome man, dark brown hair, blue eyes. He wore a black T-shirt that hugged his body, showing off his impressive build.

"What exactly is your problem?" I demanded.“And what the hell is so funny?”

"My problem?" He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. When I didn't answer right away, he stopped, and his face started to get a little red. He began to shift from one foot to the other, and then he dropped his arms to his sides. "Look, I'm sorry," he said, finally letting his guard down. "It's been a hell of a day. Shit, a hell of a month, and to be honest, I'm just not really at my best right now."

"Could have fooled me." I shrugged, still feeling a little under attack.

"I think perhaps we should start off on a different foot. I'm Zach," he said, holding out his large hand to me.

“What if I don’t want to?” I bit back, watching him. When he didn’t move, I finally slipped my small hand into his and gently shook it."Zach, it’s nice to meet you. I'm Iris."

"Iris, nice to meet you," he said, slowly letting go of my hand and meeting my eyes.

"So, what has you all frazzled?" I questioned.

"God, what doesn't. It all started this morning with my eleven-year-old."

Small world, I thought to myself. "You have an eleven-year-old? My oldest just turned eleven a couple of weeks ago. Right now, my boys are home, probably killing each other." I smiled, and we both laughed. I glanced at my watch. I really should grab what I came in for and get back to The Deep Dish. I needed to order the pizza before too much longer.

“Look, I should get going. I’ve got to get our pizza ordered,” I said, reaching in front of him and grabbing two bags of the boy’s favourite chips and a bottle of soda.

"Taking pizza home for dinner?" he questioned.

Almost forgetting our run-in only a few minutes earlier, I nodded. "Yep, I promised them tonight would be pizza."

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