Page 76 of Cocky Choices: Zoe Cocker

To Stephanie he says, “Two lemonades.”

As she starts to leave I interject, “But…I thought I’d like to have the Chicken Piccata.”

“You’ll love the Carbonara.”

Stephanie looks from me to him. “Both are good.”

He contradicts her, “Not with the tomatoes which are in both of our appetizer dishes. They’d clash with the cream of the Piccata.” He turns his attention to me, confidence in his further explanation, “You aren’t feeling well. I don’t want to upset your stomach.”

“Oh…that makes sense.”

Stephanie holds my look for an unusually long moment, then heads away.

She quickly returns with our lemonade and hurries off to take care of the busy establishment. As we wait for our food, Caleb starts to tell me of how his father calmed down once we left the two of them, earlier. I am barely able to pay attention as he explains that his mother helped put out anger’s fire by saying it wasall in the past now.

I’ve been silent for some time when Caleb finally pauses and joins me. We look around the restaurant, not speaking for a few extended moments. He clears his throat. “With everything that happened today, I’m feeling tired, too. Food will help.” His gaze drops to silverware so new it shimmers. “This is a nice place. Glad you said this was your favorite.”

“This isn’t my favorite. I said I like this one, when you asked.”

His eyebrows rise. “But I wanted to take you to your favorite.”

That’s the Vortex. Years ago, myfavoritewould’ve been a tie between the two restaurants my parents owned since before I was born —CrashandBurn. They’re both sold now. Ever since, The Vortex owns the title offavorite— the Cocker haunt none of us ever tire of. But I didn’t want to go there for some reason. This seemed more Caleb’s style. “I like this one a lot.”

He takes a sip of lemonade, asking over the rim, “Have you ever been?”

“Once.”

“Okay then,” Caleb chuckles. “Well, from the smell alone, I’d say it was a good choice.” He taps on the table in thought as I start to sip my lemonade. “I know it’s a marriage of convenience, but I hope we can make it something more.”

I nearly do a spit-take, swallow hard, set down my glass and proceed to straighten my silverware, adjusting the knife to a neat and controlled parallel line beside the fork. “Caleb, I…” My voicefalters as I search for the right words, the truth tangled with guilt. I want to believe in what Caleb’s offering, yet the image of Tom’s fingers touching mine through the glass of that police car earlier today, pulls at my consciousness. Inside my chest, my heart feels like a fist is squeezing it. “I think we should…let things grow on their own?”

Intensely handsome, Caleb smiles and leans toward me, “I understand. It’s a big step for both of us. But I want you toknowthat I do care about you, Zoe. More than I thought I would.”

His confession sends a jolt through me, but it’s a feeling I can’t quite describe. I should be happy — relieved even — to have the answers to my future be so clear.

So clearto him.

He likes me. He wants to turn ‘convenience’ into…more. But all I want to do is cry.

This is so unfair.

All of this.

I promised to marry him.

“Caleb, I?—”

He reaches over and wraps his warm hand over my tense one. “I heard that you stood up for me, to your brother. Tom told me. The meant a lot to me, Zoe. First you agree to help me get my trust fund and finally achieve freedom from my father?—”

“—Freedom?”

“Yes, with myown moneyI can start my own business.” Letting go of my hand and leaning back in his chair, a storm swirls in Caleb’s eyes as he stares off into his current reality. “As it is right now I work under a tyrant. A man who may be the reason I’m walking on this planet, but who has never, not for one day, cared about whatIwant. Never even asked. To finally be free of his control… I can’t wait!” My fiancé smiles at me. “It’s because of you, Zoe."

Obligation weighs me down. “I’m happy I can help you."

"And then today I heard that you stood up for me, and told your brother that my past doesn’t matter. That’s what a wife is supposed to be.”

I shake my head. “That’s whata personis supposed to be. Who are we if we don’t stand up for each other?”

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