Page 64 of Salvation
I start to turn her down, but one look in her eyes makes it obvious she needs to do something to ease some of the guilt weighing on her shoulders. So I let her.
“I’ll take a black coffee, please.”
Zoey smiles, face lighting up with relief. “Great. I’ll be right back.”
She disappears through the swinging door that leads to the kitchen, and within a couple of minutes, she’s back with a to-go cup in hand.
“I wasn’t sure if you needed to get back or not, so I just went ahead and made it to-go. But please don’t feel like you have to rush to leave.”
Wanting to give Campbell and Willow a chance to talk without me for a few moments, I decide to extend my break. I could use it anyway; frustration bubbles beneath my skin as I think about my looming deadline for the mural, along with this nagging feeling that I’m not going to get it right—that I’m losing the thing that once made me whole.
“I think I’ll stay,” I say, choosing a seat at the bar. “I could use a break from painting anyway. My back is starting to ache.”
Zoey shakes her head. “Girl, I don’t know how you do it. My back would never recover—not after carrying twins—but I can’t wait to see the finished product. Rumor around town is that you’re really good.”
I wince. I’m not naïve. I know the residents of Benton Falls love to gossip, but I was hoping the mural might escape their attention for a while, mostly because I’m terrified of hearing what they have to say. I need them to love it because it’s a piece of me that I’m handing to them, and every other time I’ve given a piece of myself to someone else, they’ve broken it. Whether intentionally or not, they still broke it.
“Something like that,” Wanting to change the topic so I don’t have to think about it, I turn the conversation toward Zoey. “So, is there—uh—anyone to help you—with your kids, I mean.”
It’s a question that’s been on my mind. Every time I’ve seen her, Zoey seems to be running things on her own. In my mind, she’s a superhero, but from how Zoey’s lips tighten into a thin line, it’s obvious I might’ve crossed the line.
She grabs a rag, wiping at a spot in the counter that’s already spotless.
“I’m sorry. I overstepped with that question. Please feel free to ignore me. I’m not great with girl talk.”
Sighing, she throws down the rag and looks at me. “No, it’s okay. It’s just embarrassing. My husband and I started this shop together.”
I blink. “Wait, you’re married?”
Zoey huffs through her nose. “At this point, I’d call it more of a technicality than a marriage.”
My brows press down. “What do you mean?”
“You can’t divorce someone when you don’t know where they are.”
“Oh, Zoey. I’m so sorry. Do you know what happened? Have you called the police?”
“No. It’s not like that,” Zoey answers quickly. “Adam left on purpose. He could handle the idea of one baby, but twins were too much for him. Truthfully, I don’t think it would have mattered. The twins were just an easy excuse. He always would have left.” Her lips tilt up in a forced smile, and I recognize it for what it is—a way to keep herself from crumbling. “Anyway, to answer your question—yes, it’s just us.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, from what I can tell, I think you’re doing a great job.”
There are tears in Zoe’s eyes when she laughs. “Yeah, just great. I have one kid who can’t stay out of trouble and another who refuses to speak.”
Picking up the rag again, she scrubs at the counter harder than before. My hand falls on top of hers, and she stills, her eyes glassy as she stares down at the counter. “I know what it’s like to feel all alone, so if you need a friend, I’m here,” I pause, unable to prevent myself from glancing out the window one more time. “And the truth is, I could probably use one, too.”
Zoey is studying me when I turn back around, her tongue stuck in her cheek as she looks from me to where Campbell and Willow stand just down the street. Then, as if she sees the turmoil inside my head, a watery grin breaks out over her face. “That’d be nice.”
Chapter 29
Campbell
“Dude, you’ve got it bad. It’s kind of sad.” Willow snorts behind me as I watch Ivy walk away. She’s smirking when I face her.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I do. I know exactly what she’s talking about. I’ve had it bad for Ivy since I was nine years old, and I’ve finally come to the conclusion that it’s not going away at thirty-two.
Willow rolls her eyes. “Sure you don’t. Why don’t you tell her how you feel?”
