Page 92 of Feels Like Home
"Twelve," I say, looking up at the giant clock. "So in about ten minutes. But he does sometimes get called out, so it might be a bit later."
A smile dances on her lips. "No problem."
"And just, like, normal-sized portions please. And cool it with the sex food. We are all good in that department, believe me."
She lets out an excited squeal. "I'm so happy to hear that! I'll be good, I'll be good." She lifts up a serving spoon. "I promise," she adds solemnly.
It's not as if her excitement about things between Buzz and me progressing is new. If we were a football game, she'd be the head cheerleader. She adores Buzz and has always wanted to see us end up together. And she's got this fanciful notion that Mom's wild offer is actually perfect.
"You're already married. Kids are the next logical step," she said when I broke the news.
I brushed it off at the time, but maybe she actually has a point? Even though our marriage is technically only an arrangement and the unborn child in question is our half sibling, maybe in some weird, dysfunctional way—which is totally on brand for both our families—it does actually make sense?
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Before I start planning the rest of my life, I need to sit Buzz down and tell him I'm in love with him. A solid step one before we figure out how to handle everything else.
I would have told him when I dropped him off at the station this morning if that buffoon Ramzi hadn't interrupted us. I'm going to do it over lunch instead. And I am determinednothingis going to derail me this time.
There may be an ounce of truth to Scooter's observation. I have been looking for any excuse to avoid having this conversation. That ends today.
I leave the kitchen and spot Zane sitting at a table by the front door drying himself off from the rain. Manuel hates it when staff take up space in the lobby, so of course I don't bother suggesting going somewhere more private.
I have a choice of two free seats, one facing the entrance, the other facing the counter. I plonk my ass down on the seat that gives me the best view of Manuel's scowling face. Dude is already bothered.
"Hey. What's up?" I ask.
Zane is wringing his hands, and for a second, I brace for some terrible confession. He sprayed bleach-based cleaner on a vintage wood dresser. He walked in on guests having an intimate moment. He's moved on from his crush on Buzz and is now secretly in love with Manuel… Or Lola.
"I met someone."
My eyes widen as I slowly turn my head to the front counter. I was just kidding about the Manuel thing. He's talking to a guest at the moment, but…surely not?
"Okay."
"And he made me an interesting offer."
I shake my head and refocus on Zane. "Offer?"
"Yeah. He's a guest staying here…"
It takes a moment for my thoughts to click into place. "You're not talking about Bruce McKinnon, are you?"
"Oh my gosh, yes. How did you guess?"
"Because he approachedmewith an offer, and I'm going to shoot my scene with him this afternoon."
His eyes bulge. "You are?"
"No. I'm joking. But he spoke to me about filming when I checked him in, so I know what his deal is."
"Oh."
Zane deflates, and I feel a twinge of guilt for messing with him. I was trying to be funny, not hurtful. Something I clearly need to work on.
"But it's cool if that's something you're interested in. I'm assuming that's what you were referring to."
"Well, yeah." He looks down at his hands. "I'm just a little worried about people judging me."
