Page 24 of Just Come Over
“Coffee?” Alistair asked. “Lunch? I think we’ve all earned it.”
Zora said, “You have no idea how I’ve been waiting for those words,” and muttered to Hayden, while they walked to the cars, “Stop it. You keep saying I should get out.”
He muttered back, “Not with somebody who wears plaid shorts.”
Lunch, on the patio of a tiny café, was short and decidedly non-date-like, possibly due to Ruby’s laser-like stare, and possibly because William, Alistair’s son, was decidedly drooping. As they were finishing their coffee, though, Alistair said, “I feel lucky I ran into you, Zora, since I haven’t been able to graduate past offering you a coffee in the office until now. I’m thinking dinner would be nice, though. Next Friday?”
“Yes,” Zora said. “Fine.” He had confidence, asking in front of everybody. Confidence was good.
He smiled. “Fortunately, I have your number. I’ll text you, shall I?”
“Please,” she said, and thought,See? You can do this.
In the car, though, Hayden sighed.
“What?” she asked, then checked the rearview mirror. Isaiah was watching a movie on her phone, with headphones in. Good. Hayden could be seriously inappropriate. “Who was saying I needed to get out? Who’s beenbadgeringme to get out?”
“He was wearing a golf shirt,” Hayden complained.
“He has kind eyes,” she countered.
“And a bald spot. Also a daughter who’ll tell all her friends you’re the wicked stepmother and hate you forever.”
“I’m not marrying him. I’m going to dinner with him. I haven’t been to dinner with a man in... Memory fails.”
“Tell me what he does for a job. Wait. Rodeo cowboy. Firefighter. Volcanologist. Stunt driver.”
“Are you finished?”
“Nearly. Demolition expert. There, I’m finished.”
“And they saywomenare too picky. He’s a plastic surgeon. Ha. Got you. He wears a white coat and tailored trousers. He subscribes to my top-end packageandpays the bills on time, which is no surprise, since he has an office in Remuera and another on the North Shore, and whenever I deliver his flowers, he invites me into his absolutely gorgeous staff lounge—which has gray leather chairs, like his waiting room, probably made from the foreskin of a whale—offers me a coffee, and chats me up.”
“Bite your tongue,” he said. “Greenpeace is shocked. And yet, with all that, you’ve never said yes.”
She was silent for a moment, and finally asked, “Can’t steady and trustworthy be good, too? A man who you can be absolutely sure is never going to text you a photo of his junk or text, ‘R U Up?’ because he’s bored and thinks you should stop by and fix that?”
“Maybe,” he said, “if he’s hot enough for you.”
They were headed across the Harbour Bridge. To the left, sailboats tacked for the marina and home, and above them, white clouds scudded across a blue sky. It had been a gorgeous day. Another school term had started, summer was coming to an end, and you could think that was sad, if you’d made the most of your summer. Which she hadn’t. Even though she lived in one of the most beautiful places in the world, and she knew it.
At ten o’clock this morning, on her way to collect Hayden, she’d delivered flowers for a wedding. The bride had been older than her, in her mid-thirties at least, far from model-thin, and wearing the kind of strapless white meringue that did nobody any favors. Her groom had had a bald spot of his own, and they’d both shone like somebody had lit them up. The bride had looked at her groom as if she’d never heard of cynicism, and he’d looked at her like he was marrying his best friend, his lover, and the light of his life.
“My taste for exciting, glamorous men hasn’t necessarily steered me right so far,” she said. “Maybe it’s time to try something new.”
“Once isn’t a pattern,” he said. “Once is a mistake.”
She froze, then checked on Isaiah again. Hayden looked back, too. “He isn’t listening,” he said. “And you know—every single time doesn’t have to be True Love. Nobody’s keeping score, and if they were, I’d say you’ve ticked all the boxes. You took care of your husband even when it got gruesome, and God knows he didn’t deserve it. You’re supporting yourself and Isaiah. You cook dinner every night and never run out of milk or bread. You’re my role model for adulting. I’m going to say that, and then you’re going to forget it, please, and not use it against me. But there’s such a thing as having fun, too. Real fun, not forcing yourself to run about at the tops of trees when it scares you, because you think you should. And, yeh, I noticed. You’re not even thirty-one yet, and sometimes, I thinkyouthink you’re sixty. So I’m going to ask you. What do you want? Really want? What do you lie awake at night and wish for? Don’t tell me ‘security.’ I don’t believe you. Tell me the dirty thing, the secret thing. Tell me, and then go for it, because whatever it is, you need it, and you deserve it.”
Whoa.She couldn’t say this. Could she?
Hayden waited.
“I want...” she said, and forced herself to go on. “I want... I haven’t worn a bikini in years. Summer’s almost gone, and yet I just thought that anyway. I want to wear a bikini again, and not to care what anybody thinks about it. I want to start unbuttoning my shirt for a man, and to have him take over, because he can’t wait. I want to lie down on the bed, have him come down over me, and know that he wants what he sees, and he can’t believe he’s getting it. I want to be thrilled. I want to lose my mind. And I can’t believe I’m telling you this. But it’s here.” She clutched at her chest with one hand. “Sometimes, I feel like I’m screaming with it.”
“You want to get laid,” Hayden said. “So why not go out and do it? Why not go dancing, give in to temptation for once, and get your freak on? Why not take a chance, and make a mistake?”
“Because,” she said, “what I want most of all? I want to be in love. For real.”
