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“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Zara places her hand on mine, and I have no desire to pull away from her. I realize that I could play the broken-hearted widower right now, but that’s not me. I wear everything on my sleeve and lying is not a quality that I’m fond of unless it means hiding my identity.
“We were divorced,” I tell her just as my mother arrives with a tray of drinks and a copious amount of food. Zara laughs as she thanks my mama who once again winks at me. I can’t help but frown, wondering what she’s thinking.
“How long?” she asks.
I take a long sip of the ice tea my mother brought out, instantly missing this and the sweet tea that I’m used to. “Almost three years.”
“Was it hard?”
Shrugging. “At first, maybe, but mostly because of the girls. I have full custody of them, but Iris, their mother, moved out here and told Stormy about the dance school here. I didn’t want to hold Stormy back from following her dreams, so I let the girls move out here with their mother.”
“And now you’re living in her house?”
I look over my shoulder at the house before meeting Zara’s gaze. “It’s my house. I bought it for the girls, so they had a place to live. Iris. . . she was unstable after our divorce. She wanted to relive her teen years because they had been taken away when we got pregnant with Stormy.” I shrug and finish off my drink. “I let her go because I just wanted her happy.”
“She was your soul mate?”
I ponder her question for a few seconds before shaking my head. “No, she wasn’t. I thought she was until she died. Her death made me realize that our days were left back in high school and we were vastly different people. I was hurt when she asked for a divorce, but let her go and gave her whatever she asked for because. . .”
“Because you wanted her happy?”
I nod and find myself smiling even if it’s barely touching my lips.
“I’m married. . .”
And for some reason hearing her say that plummets my heart into the depths of my stomach. It’s not that I thought we were going to start dating, but hearing that she is attached to someone else doesn’t sit well with me.
“He cheated on me a month ago. I kicked him out and filed for divorce, but he’s not handling it well.”
And now I want to kick his ass.
“He’s in my band. He plays the drums. My publicist is telling me to get over it. The label is pissed, and I’m angry that no one is siding with me.”
“Did you cheat on him?” I ask although it’s none of my business.
She shakes her head rapidly. “God no. Up until about two weeks ago, I was walking around my house like a zombie, determined to forget everything. Except the paparazzi are camped out in front. I’ve been a prisoner in my own home until today, but anyway, it was like a light bulb went off. My husband. . .or soon to be former one, was in the paper with another woman and I thought ‘why the hell am I moping around when he’s not’ and decided that the man I once considered my soulmate isn’t because people don’t do that to their soul mates.”
She’s right, although to my knowledge Iris never cheated. I don’t know what I would’ve done if she had. Letting her go was hard enough, but to learn that she had given herself to another while married to me would’ve probably been devastating.
“I’m sorry you’re going through such a hard time. The door is open whenever you need to escape.” Why on earth I just invited her to come over whenever she wants, I have no idea. I can’t even promise that we’ll be here once school lets out. This isn’t my home, and I want to get back to Nashville. Songs have to be written, recorded, and produced.
But I find myself wanting to know more about her and plan to spend some time surfing the web to read up on the enigma that is Zara Phillips. I know for a fact she would never encourage me to do it and deep down I’m hoping she does the same with me. I have nothing to hide, and there isn’t anything scandalous about me online.
Zara meets my eyes, and for a moment I feel a connection. It’s stupid to think that there would ever be anything between us other than a brief friendship because of our backgrounds. I don’t believe that mumbo jumbo about opposites attracting. You’re normally drawn to people in your category, especially in the music industry.
Yet, I feel something, a current or a bond that is bringing us together. She didn’t have to come over here today, but she did, and clearly, it wasn’t to spend time with the crew. I reach across the table and place my hand on hers, careful not to bother the burn from earlier.
“I know our divorces aren’t the same, but if you need anything, I’m here.”
She squeezes my hand back and doesn’t let go nor do I pull away. The gesture isn’t lost on me, and I honestly like the feeling of her small hand being encased by mine. It isn’t until my name is yelled that I’m pulling away and while I may not be touching her, I am looking at her and smiling.
zara
Eleven
As I near my street,my stomach feels like I have swallowed a rock and it’s now thrashing back and forth, threatening to destroy my insides on its way back out. It’s not because I regret going to the Austin’s house tonight, or that for a brief moment I felt like an idiot for not knowing who Levi truly was. It’s because I don’t know what to expect when I get to my driveway.
Is Van inside waiting for me? What about the paparazzi? Have their numbers increased because Van showed up? These questions run rampant through my mind as I maneuver around the corners, driving as slowly as possible. I don’t want to see him, not tonight at least. This evening was. . . nice. It was pleasant and relaxing.
