Page 41 of Interception

Zee has been scaling back the amount of time we’re spending together over the last few weeks, and I don’t like it. I miss her. We speak on the phone every day, but we’ve gone from spending every night together to every other night, sometimes a few nights in between sleepovers. Listen to me, I sound like a teenage girl. Please come have a sleepover, Zee. We’ll have so much fun. We can watch rom-coms and paint each other’s nails.

I’ve resorted to asking Faith for some insight on her best friend, but she tells me to keep doing what I’m doing, and Zee will come around. Since the morning she called me a barnacle, I feel like I’m banging my head against a brick wall. The press has been lurking outside her office and following her every move. I tried to have a security guard watch out for her, but she’s stubborn as a mule and kept sending him away until he quit.

The attention is hurting us and makes Zee even more aloof than normal. She wants to distance herself from me, which is impossible now that we’re having twins. Today, I convinced her to let me take her on that first date we never got around to. A promise of no press and her favorite food of the week got me a firm ‘yes.’

As I pull up outside her apartment building, she scurries out of the lobby in a baseball cap, as if that would hide her identity. I was going to go up to get her like a gentleman should, but she insisted on just jumping in the car. She’s not exactly able to ‘jump’ in and out of anything now. She’s got the cutest baby bump, and I hate that she’s self-conscious about it. She’s never looked more beautiful to me.

“Hey, champ. Where are we heading?” She lowers herself into the passenger seat, and I realize the Mustang may not have been the best choice. I should’ve brought my truck. It would definitely be easier for her to get in and out. Shit. I guess the Mustang isn’t going to be family-friendly, especially not with twins. “Earth to Coop. Where are we going?”

Her voice breaks into my anxiety-inducing daydream.

“It’s a surprise.” I lean in, pressing my lips to her cheek. “You look beautiful today.”

“Now I know you’re lying. I think the suspension on this car is crying out for mercy with me in the passenger seat. It probably looks lopsided from behind.”

“I’d enjoy looking at you lopsided from behind any time.”

“Did that sound better in your head than when it came out?” She rolls her eyes and shoves me away.

“Yeah. It totally sounded cute, and it was definitely meant as a compliment. You look amazing.”

“I look like a whale. Your nickname for me is going to have to change from beautiful to Shamu. My body is going to be ruined by the time these two arrive.” She rubs her belly at the mention of the babies. She likes to portray herself as a hardass, but she’s got a big, soft gooey heart. It’s obvious to anyone who takes the time to get to know her.

“I forbid you from smack-talking my baby mama. I have impeccable taste, and my genetics wouldn’t just commingle with some average girl.”

“So, your sperm approves of me? You have a weird way of complimenting a woman, Coop. How have you managed to be such a player up until now?” She clicks her seat belt into place, and I pull into traffic.

“Who says I was a player?”

“Oh, come on! You can’t play a player, champ. It takes one to know one.”

“Are you playing me now, Zee?”

“Of course not.”

“Then afford me the same courtesy. Trust me. I’m in love with you. If there’s anyone in this situation who’s going to get their heart shattered into a million shards of glass, it’s me. Don’t think I didn’t noticed your distinct lack of reciprocation when I said I loved you for the first time.”

She shifts uncomfortably in her seat, staring out the window to avoid my gaze. “You said it in a passing comment. I figured it was a slip of the tongue. You and I aren’t ‘love’ people. We fuck, we enjoy no strings. It’s our thing.”

“Do I have to bring up the elephant in the car?”

“I already know I’m an elephant. I prefer the term ‘thinly challenged.’ Rude!” She smiles as she turns to gauge my reaction.

“Ha-freaking-ha. You can label yourself as void of the ability to love someone, but don’t lump me in with that. We’re way beyond no strings. Our babies have made sure of that. I lo…”

“Don’t say it, Coop.”

“Why?” I tighten my grip on the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white. “You already know I feel it. Why is it some terrible thing for me to say it out loud?”

“Because I’m not ready.”

“Well, you better get ready. We’re a family now. I don’t care if you don’t say it back right now.” That’s a bare-faced lie, and she knows it. There’s pity in her eyes, and it’s like a dagger to my heart.

“I don’t want you to say it. It’s an obligation. You want to make things more stable for the babies, I get it. But I don’t want you to love me out of some misguided sense that everything has to be cookie-cutter perfect. Life doesn’t work that way.”

“It can if you let it.”

“I can’t. Maybe you should just take me home.”

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