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“She’s seeing someone, is she?”
“She is. From what I can gather, her bedroom door has been revolving ever since we split up.” I can’t help laughing, and he shakes his head. “The problem is, she’s only known this guy for a few weeks, and he’s already taken up residence. I wasn’t happy about that, and didn’t hold back in letting her know. She accused me of being jealous, which I’m not.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” I say, and he smiles.
“I honestly don’t care who she sleeps with anymore. What I care is about is the idea of this stranger living under the same roof as my son. If she’d told me about him, it’d be different, but she’s gotta have everything her own way.” I sit back a little and he frowns, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Zara. Sabrina has this effect on me. Shall we change the subject?”
I think that’s probably wise. His story is heartbreaking and I feel sorry for him.
I also want to help him not to get so angry with the past, if I can… if he’ll let me.
Chapter Ten
Tanner
I feel bad for letting off steam like that, although I have to admit, that’s the first time since the divorce that I’ve felt better for having talked about Sabrina. Sure, the situation with Dean still makes me mad. In fact, just about everything Sabrina does riles me, but I’ve got a strange a sense of relief, too. It’s something I haven’t felt for ages… and certainly not something I’ve experienced when discussing my ex-wife. Zara seems to give me a confidence in myself that I haven’t known since I first learned that Sabrina was cheating on me, and even if I didn’t already love her, I would now.
Zara turns her attention back to her chicken, and I take a sip of wine, studying her. She looks breathtaking in that dress, with her hair flowing in loose curls over her naked shoulders. When she opened her door and I first caught sight of her, I couldn’t believe my eyes. I struggled to speak, although I found my voice again – thank God – when she threatened to change into something different. She thought that what she was wearing was ‘too much’, and it was. It was too much for me. But there was no way I wanted her to change. As I said to her, she looked perfect, and I wasn’t exaggerating.
“Are you okay?” she asks, breaking me out of my daydream.
“I’m fine. Tell me about you.” I pick up my knife and fork, and she tilts her head, like she’s thinking about my suggestion.
“There isn’t very much to tell. Like I said, I’m from north Vermont. My dad died when I was eighteen, and my mom encouraged me to follow my dreams.”
“And how’s that going? Are you living the dream?”
She smiles. “Not yet, but I’m getting there.” Her eyes connect with mine as she speaks and although my head is telling me not to read too much into that, my heart isn’t listening. That look has to mean something, doesn’t it? It has to mean I’m part of the dream. Why else would she still be staring at me? And why does it feel like neither of us is breathing?
“What made you decide to become a teacher?” I ask, because one of us needs to say something, and we both need to breathe.
“I don’t know,” she says as we both get back to our food. “Maybe it was my love of books, or the fact that I like kids. I can’t be sure. It’s just something I always wanted to do.”
I cut a slice of duck, holding it on my fork. “I like kids just as much as the next person, but I wouldn’t wanna deal with a classroom full of them.”
She laughs, and I join in.
“Speaking of kids,” she says. “How do you balance working at the bookstore and parenting Nash when he’s with you?”
“I have Katie.”
She tilts her head. “Who’s Katie?”
“Believe it or not, she used to be my English teacher, when I was in high school.”
“And she came to work for you?”
I nod my head. “At the bookstore, yeah. After Sabrina left and we ironed out her stupidity over me having access to Nash, I realized I was gonna need someone I could rely on working full-time at the store. I’d had a few part-timers over the years, but I wanted someone who could open and close the store, if necessary, and who I could abandon at the drop of a hat, if Nash needed me.”
“Did you ask Katie to join you?”
“No. I advertised, and she applied. She’d given up teaching years ago to nurse her husband, but didn’t want to go back into it after his death.”
“You didn’t worry about employing your old teacher?”
“Not in the slightest. We get along really well.” I smile. “She’s the one who told me to break with my usual routine and contrive a visit to the school this afternoon. I didn’t like using Nash in that way, but I didn’t want to wait until Friday to see you again.”
Her eyes sparkle as she smiles at me. “Do you regret it?” she asks.
