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“We never talked about how this would play out.” I’ve been sitting here wondering how we do this. “Do they know, should they know, do you want them to know? And if they do know,what is it they know? Do we explain it, do we ask them how they feel? And what if they don’t like it?”
Zoey presses her lips to mine, sliding closer, and I bring my hands to her hips.
“You say you love them,” she whispers and my heart rate speeds up.
“I do.” I know they aren’t my daughters, but I feel like they are. I’m so attached already and I know that will only get stronger with each passing day.
“They love you too,” Zoey tells me as she holds my face in her hands. “I don’t think you have to worry about what they’d think, because spending time with you seems to be right up there with sleepovers at Gigi’s and boating with Papa. They look forward to seeing you. They ask about you all the time; when they’ll get to see you next. So you worrying about all this,” she waves her hand around, “you should probably just stop worrying.”
“They love me?” My emotions take over and my throat burns.
Zoey nods. “They do,” she assures me, “and so do I.”
twenty-nine
. . .
Jayson
“I’m here,” Grams says through the other end of the phone. “Sitting in your kitchen, enjoying a cup of freshly brewed coffee. You know what you need?”
I smile as I move around the office. “What’s that?”
“One of those Keurig one-cup makers. The kind you put those pods in and it brews the perfect cup of your chosen flavor.” She sighs. “I just got one a week ago and I’ve already had a cup of butter toffee, and a cinnamon sugar cookie this morning. Then I come here and have a cup of breakfast blend which seems like a disappointment."
I chuckle. “I’m thinking maybe you should switch to decaf.” Grams seems a little wired.
“Oh nonsense.” I hear my doorbell ring. “The delivery men are here, gotta run.” Before I say a word, she is ending the call and I’m left staring down at my phone.
“Furniture today?” Georgia asks as she leans against the doorway.
“Most of it.” Everything but my kitchen table and the office furniture. “Some of it got delayed until next Tuesday.”
“So is there still a chance we are going to show up here to find articles of clothing scattered around the kitchen and up the stairway.” By her smile I know she’s hassling me. “Don’t get me wrong it’s great to see you smiling instead of moping.”
“I don’t mope.”
“You definitely do,” she corrects. Georgia has no problem telling me like it is. I’ve known her since she was born, and she’s got enough ammunition to last years, thanks to Eric. “I’m glad you and Zoey finally got yourselves on the same page. You both deserve to be happy. But Marcy, poor girl, she’s still embarrassed about getting a flash of your goodies.”
“There were no goodies.” I roll my eyes and close the file on the desk before looking back up at her.
“She said there was goodies.” Georgia’s brows lift.
“I covered up.”
“Not fast enough.” She laughs before covering her mouth with her hand.
“Is there a patient?” I ignore her snicker and stand, moving around the desk. “After all this is a doctor’s office and not the lunchroom of the high school where gossip takes place.”
As I pass her, she bumps her shoulder to mine and I shake my head. “Haven’t you noticed Marcy hasn’t made eye contact with you since the show.” She air quotes the word show. “Not sure Icould either if I saw your junk, that would be like walking in on Eric and Kerry.” Georgia fakes a shiver.
“Are you ignoring me?”
I don’t answer her.
“You are.” She hurries after me as I step out into the main waiting area. “Very immature,” she adds with a laugh.
My phone rings in my pocket and I fish it out, finding my gram’s number lighting up the screen.
