Bittersweet (22 page)

So,
for once, she let herself enjoy it.

The next day was
just as beautifully cool, sunny, and crisp as the previous one, so—after
working most of the day—Zoe took Logan for a walk again in the park in the
evening.

Logan
loved to watch the squirrels and birds and to run on the tree-lined paths, but
this evening he was rather grumpy.

“Un-Cla
Lala?” he asked, twisting his neck to look up at her from his position in the
stroller. She always put him in the stroller as they crossed the street, but he
highly disapproved of staying in it once they reached the park.

“No,
Uncle Adam isn’t coming with us today,” she said gently. She’d told him the
same thing earlier, which had led to his initial crankiness. “It’s just Logan
and Mommy today.”

“Un-Cla
Lala pock.” Logan faced forward again with his little chin jutting out. He
looked like he might be on the verge of a tantrum, something Zoe really hoped
wouldn’t happen.

“Uncle
Adam isn’t coming to the park with us today. He can’t be with us every day.
We’ll probably see him tomorrow.” She kept her voice light and upbeat, with the
faint hope her son's mood would improve.

She’d
talked to Adam briefly on the phone earlier in the day, but both of them had
been busy so the conversation had been mostly just to touch base. Zoe had felt
ridiculously shy as she talked to him, but neither one of them brought up the
kiss the previous night.

She
was lost in thought as she crossed the street to the park, and so she wasn’t as
vigilant about improving Logan’s mood as she should have been. He’d been
squirming in the stroller and, when they got to the park and she let him out,
he sat down hard on the sidewalk. “Cla Lala pay Lo-Gen!” Then immediately he burst
into tears.

Cursing
herself for being too distracted to nip the tantrum in the bud, Zoe picked
Logan up, ignoring the flailing of his arms and legs. “Uncle Adam can’t play
with Logan today. You know he doesn't always come to play with us every day.”

She
tried to keep her voice calm and pleasant, since she knew it would only
distress him more if she got annoyed or upset, but it was hard to maintain her
composure when her son was screaming in her ear and trying to squirm his way
out of her arms.

“We’ll
see Uncle Adam tomorrow,” she promised, squeezing him comfortingly.

She
could hardly be surprised that the little boy had attached himself to Adam. He
was the only man who filled the father-role for Logan.

Otherwise,
Zoe was the only parent Logan had.

At
the moment, she felt like a sad excuse for a parent, since her nineteen-month-old
son was screaming at the top of his lungs in the middle of a public park
because she’d been too wrapped up in silly romantic questions to keep him
happy.

“Don’t
you want to go look at the squirrels?” she asked, as bright and enthusiastic as
she could manage. She gestured over toward the wooded area. “It looks like
there are lots out today.”

Logan’s
screaming broke off momentarily as he looked in the direction she indicated,
his tear-filled brown eyes focused on the trees. But then, evidently
insufficiently enthralled by this commonplace pleasure, he started to wail
again.

Zoe
sighed and jiggled him on her hip, on the verge of putting him back in the
stroller and wheeling him home.

Then
something else caught her eyes. “Oh, look. A doggie!”

Logan’s
head jerked over in the new direction, and his crying faded out almost
comically as his gaze fixed on the golden retriever catching a Frisbee in the
wide green lawn.

“Look
at how he can catch the Frisbee,” Zoe gushed, ridiculously grateful for the
young man who’d happened to bring his dog to the park at just this time. “Do
you want to go watch him?”

“Doggie!”
Logan cried, struggling to get down from her arms. “Doggie pay!”

Seeing
that his mood had transformed, Zoe let him down and took his hand so they could
walk closer to where the dog was playing.

They
watched for a while until Zoe smelled something distinct in the air.

She
glanced around instinctively until she saw where the smoke was coming from.

One
of the houses in her row was on fire.

The
whole house wasn’t consumed yet, but there was smoke billowing out of the top
windows.

Since
a small crowd had gathered in front of the house, the fire had obviously
already been reported.

So
Zoe called Adam instead.

Logan
was still watching the dog play, but Zoe’s face had gone white and her hands had
gotten clammy.

The
house wasn’t the one right next to hers, but it wouldn’t take much for a fire
to take out the entire row.

Her
house. All of her stuff. Everything she had left of Josh.

Adam
didn’t answer, so she disconnected, her knees feeling unsteady.

A
few minutes later, she’d taken Logan to sit on a park bench. He was fascinating
with the fire engines that had arrived, and there was no way to tear him away.

Zoe,
her hands still shaking, texted Adam.
Are you there? Call me if you can
.

It
looked like everyone had gotten out of all the houses in the row. No one should
be hurt.

But
it could have been her house.

She
and Logan could have been in it.

Adam
could have been in it.

This
wasn’t a real crisis—it just wasn’t—but Zoe felt panic overwhelming her just
the same.

***

A half-hour
later, Adam arrived.

His
car dropped him off on the street next to the park. He was talking on his phone
intently as he got out—maybe arguing more than talking.

He
saw them, though, and started toward them.

She
didn’t care if he was sweating and distracted and looking like he was on the
verge of strangling someone.

He
was Adam, and he was here.

Logan
had been sitting on her lap, since she’d felt needy and in need of some
cuddling, but the boy slipped out of her grip now and charged over toward his
uncle, jabbering out his enthusiasm in rather garbled exclamations. He fell
once but popped back up and continued running down the sidewalk.

Zoe
jumped up to try to catch him, but she was still shaky, and Logan reached Adam
before she did. Still talking on the phone, Adam scooped up Logan with one arm
and hugged his little nephew against him.

Adam’s
grip on Logan was so tight she could see the tension in his stance. For just a
moment, Zoe saw emotion transform his face. And she realized he’d been scared
for Logan. Scared for her.

Even
knowing the fire wasn’t any sort of threat to them.

He
hung up before he’d reached her. “They don’t know anything yet.”

Somehow,
she wasn’t surprised that, as soon as he’d heard what happened, he’d gotten on
the phone and used all the Peterson influence to bully information out of local
officials who couldn’t possibly have any details yet.

She
almost smiled at him.

He
reached out with his free arm and took her face in his hand. “Are you okay?”

She
nodded. “We’re fine.”

“What’s
the matter, baby?”

“Nothing.”
She wished her response could be more convincing, but she was pale, still
trembling. “I just want to go home.”

“They
suggested you shouldn’t stay there tonight. They’ll need to investigate the
cause of the fire, and if it’s wiring or anything…”

She
hated the thought of a hotel, when she really needed the security of her house
right now. “Okay. That makes sense.”

To
her dismay, a tear streamed down her cheek.

She
turned her face away so Adam wouldn’t see and think she was a pitiful wreck.

He
saw anyway and gently brushed it away with his thumb. “Will you and Logan
please stay with me tonight?”

*
* *

Two hours later,
Zoe put Logan to bed in one of Adam’s guestrooms—the one with two twin beds.
They’d given Logan a snack and a bath, and then the boy was so sleepy he could
barely manage to claim he wasn't tired and didn’t want to go to bed.

When
she pulled the door shut, Adam was waiting in the hall. “Is he all right?”

“Yeah.
He’s fine. He can sleep anywhere.”

Adam
studied her face carefully. “What about you? Do you need anything?”

She
gave a half-shrug. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.” Her earlier panic had
subsided—she still wasn’t sure what had caused it—and now she felt restless, disoriented,
and tired, but kind of wired at the same time. “I kind of want to go to bed too,
but I don’t think I’d be able to sleep.”

She
walked with him to the living room where she sank down onto a couch.

“Do
you want a glass of wine?” Adam asked, pouring Merlot into a glass at the bar
on the other side of the room.

“Sure.”

He
poured a second glass and brought one over to her. Then he sat on the sofa
beside her.  He still wore the business suit he’d been wearing earlier,
although his tie was loosened a little and he’d taken off his shoes. As she
watched, he fiddled with his watch for a moment before he took it off and laid
it on the table beside him.

Zoe
felt a familiar tightness in her chest, as well as a few flutters of desire at
seeing Adam so obviously at home. But she ignored the feelings and instead
tried to relax, clear her mind, and recover from the evening.

They
drank their wine in mostly silence, broken only by a few idle remarks.

She
felt more relaxed when she placed her empty glass on the coffee table beside Adam’s.

“We
can watch TV or a movie, if you want,” Adam offered, watching her as if he were
trying to figure something out.

She
shook her head and was going to say that she might just go to bed, when she
heard herself saying, “Okay.”

The
television came on to a cable news network, but Zoe didn’t feel like watching a
bunch of depressing news. So Adam flipped around until they found a movie that
was halfway tolerable.

Zoe
didn’t pay much attention to it, but at least it served as white noise to keep
her mind off everything else that threatened to overwhelm her.

She
had no idea how it happened, but at some point during the movie she ended up
cuddled against Adam's side, his arm wrapped around her.

It
was so comforting—feeling the heat from his body and his warm, masculine scent.
He was hard and lean, but his suit jacket was soft against her cheek. And it
felt so entirely natural that she hardly questioned the position until the
movie ended and there was no further distraction.

She
shifted against him, fighting through a flurry of nerves to look up into his
face.

He
gazed down at her, something soft and speaking in his nearly black eyes.

She
couldn't help but respond to his expression—it so closely matched her own
feelings. She stretched up as he leaned down, and their mouths met midway in a
kiss.

She’d
expected the kiss to be soft and sweet, but it got urgent surprisingly soon.
She dug her fingers into his shoulders, loving how firm and real he was. His
tongue tangled with hers in heated hunger as his hand slid down to cup her
bottom.

She
whimpered against his lips, her body surging with pleasure and need. When their
lips finally parted, he ducked his head lower and mouthed lines along her
jawbone and down her neck.

“Zoe,”
he murmured against her skin. “Zoe. Do you have any idea how incredible you
are? How beautiful and sweet and strong? Do you have any idea how much I want
you?”

She
gasped as her body tightened with arousal, and as her chest overflowed with
waves of conflicting emotion. She squirmed in his arms, trying to process if
the ache inside her was desire, grief, terror, or unbearable emotional need.

One
of her hands had slipped up unconsciously to stroke Adam’s face. He groaned in
response, and the throaty sound triggered rippling pleasure all through her
body.

It
also triggered something else.

A vision
of Adam in a burning house.

Adam,
as dead as Josh was.

Drowning
in a sudden panic, she pushed him away instinctively. “I’m sorry, Adam. I’m
sorry. I have to think.”

His
expression was briefly pained as he released her, but he composed himself
quickly. “What do you need to think about? Maybe I can help.”

“I
still don’t know about all this. I told you before…” Her voice broke on the
last word.

“I
know. I know it’s hard. But you can’t pretend you’re not feeling anything for
me. There is something between us.”

“I
know there is. I know it.”