Page 21 of The Forever Play

Zander (swallows): No one you’ll know. Next question.

Holy shit, that’s me. I was that girl!

The girl he doesn’t even want to talk about. The girl whoforced him.

I tut, skimming through the interview and barely reading the rest of it. The only other answer I take in is the fact that he wants to inject coffee into his veins. I can’t help wondering what got him addicted to caffeine. He wasn’t a big coffee drinker when we were together.

He wasn’t a lot of things he turned out to be.

I shut off my phone before I’m tempted to go back and read the rest of the article properly. I don’t want to know what else the readers had to ask. More than that, I don’t want to know his answers.

He’s moved on. He has a better life now. Living in this frat-style house with all his buddies, playing football, being captain of the team. It’s everything he wanted.

And there’s no space for me in that life.

There’s definitely no space for Zoey.

Shit!

I run a hand through my hair and fist the back of it. I guess all I can hope for is that I never run into him again.

Zoey and I have managed to avoid him since we’ve been here, right? We can do that again, surely.

Unless he starts looking for you.

He chased you down, called your name.

He’s going to want to know why you’re a mommy.

He can do the math.

He’s not stupid!

Closing my eyes, I sit there fighting off nausea while Zoey plays and cheers herself on… until the timer goes.

“More?” She looks up at me hopefully.

“No, lil’ bug. Time’s up.” Her bottom lip sticks outagain, and I’m so close to tears right now, I’m not sure how I’ll cope if she decides to get all stubborn and huffy on me.

I can’t lose it in front of her.

A wave of unexpected panic surges through me, and I seriously need to burn off this angst or poor Zoey is going to cop it.

“Hey, do you want to go play with Mrs. Ward so Mommy can go for a run?”

“Cookies!” Zoey raises her hands in the air, and I can’t help a soft laugh as I grab my phone and call the babysitter Russell helped me find.

She’s the mother of one of the other assistant coaches, and she’s quickly become Zoey’s surrogate grandmother while my parents are away. They clicked within about two seconds, and every time Zoey goes there to play, they end up baking cookies.

“Hello,” she answers in a bright voice. “Is this my favorite little chef calling me?”

I laugh. “She’s a keen jellybean. Any chance you can do a short babysitting stint so I can go for a run?”

“Oh, I’d love that. Let me get the kitchen ready. I’ll see you shortly.”

“Thank you. You’re an angel.”

“It’s my total pleasure, darling girl. Believe me.” Her laughter is merry and instantly puts me in a better mood.

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