Page 79 of One More Heartbeat
Athena continues rocking Peony on her lap, and within a few minutes, Peony’s eyes drift shut.
Athena shifts her onto the bed. Peony whimpers, but her eyes remain closed.
“Don’t worry, baby girl. I’m right here.” Athena points to the overhead light, indicating for me to turn it off. “Can you grab my pillow and comforter from my room? I’ll stay with her for a while.”
“Sure.” I turn off the light, fetch her bedding and phone, and hand them to her. “I’ll be in my office.”
I would volunteer to camp out in the room, but after Peony’s reaction to me before I turned on the light, I don’t think my sleeping on her floor would be a good idea. It might only make things worse if she woke up from another nightmare and didn’t realize it was me.
I return to my laptop, but now that the flow of words has been interrupted, I can’t get back into the story.
I close my eyes and try to visualize in my head the scene playing out. But instead of the image of William Lockheart and Safina Berry, it’s Zara and me. And instead of the argument they were embattled with, I’m kissing Zara in the forest where the scene was taking place.
The only thing the visualization exercise accomplishes is it makes me want to kiss Zara again. For real.
But she hasn’t brought up our last kiss. It could be it did nothing for her—and unlike for me, she doesn’t need to get the thought of kissing me out of her system. It was never there to begin with.
Pride is a swift kick in the ass at that realization.
I need to get out of here. To get some air. My brain is still spinning from what happened with Peony a short time ago, and I need to settle it if I want the words to flow once more. That might be all I need to regain my focus. I still have another few hours of writing to push through tonight, and I won’t be able to do that if I can’t stop thinking about Peony or the kiss with Zara.
I text Athena.
Me: Going out for a bit. Call me if you need anything.
Me: Or if Peony wakes up from another nightmare.
I drive toward Windermere Lake, intending to walk along the beach and watch the moon’s reflection ripple on the water’s surface. But as I approach the turn-off that will take me to Zara’s apartment, I change my mind about what I really need.
I need to see Zara. To talk to her. To hang out with her for a few minutes. I’m dealing with withdrawal from not seeing my best friend for so long. That’s why I can’t stop thinking about the kiss. Just seeing her again, without anyone else around, should stop the withdrawal symptoms.
It’s late enough Zara should be home from our weekly Game Night, but it’s not too late yet that she’s probably asleep.
In case she is, I park in Visitor Parking and send her a text.
Me: I’m downstairs. Can I come up?
Three little dots appear, and I hold my breath, waiting for her reply.
Zara: Sure. Give me a sec to buzz you in.
Me: I’m in my SUV. Will text when I get to the entrance door.
I jog to the entrance and text her. She buzzes me in.
Zara: The apartment door is open.
The elevator is on the main floor, so I take it instead of wasting time with the stairs.
The door opens on her floor, and I rush to her apartment, my long stride quickly eating up the distance. I open the apartment door and enter her foyer.
At the sight of Zara, standing in her living room, my heart clambers into my throat, making it difficult to swallow. She’s wearing loose-fittingvelvet lounge pants and a silky black camisole, andfuck, my best friend looks goddamn irresistible. Sexy. Mouthwatering.
Her last boyfriend—what’s-his-name—was an idiot to give her up. To throw her away for his ex-wife.
I’m vaguely aware of Beyoncé singing in the background as I kick off my shoes.
I walk toward Zara, unable to stop staring at her. It’s not like this is the first time I’m seeing her in this outfit. But something about seeing her now, like this, is…is having a whole new effect on me.
