Falling for Your Boss by Emma St. Clair
Chapter Twenty-Five
Gavin
All day long,I’m aching to kiss Zoey again. To hold her, to remember that this is real. Instead, I’m running on the fumes of flirty smiles and significant glances as we spend time with Ella and my family. When we get back from our ride, Patty and Nancy surprise us at the house.
“I’m so sorry I got you sick,” Nancy says, first thing. She gives me a quick hug, then pulls away with her nose wrinkled. “Why do you smell like you sat in a cow pie?”
“Because I fell in a cow pie,” I tell her. I’m watching Zoey over her shoulder as Patty introduces herself. “And I don’t mind getting sick. It turned out pretty okay.”
Nancy chuckles, patting my back and then following my gaze. “Sure looks that way. It’s about time, if you ask me. Now, go shower.”
Patty follows her sister, holding me just as long, despite the smell that I know is emanating from my backside. “Last time I saw you, you were all alone. Now, look at you! Guess it’s still true that I can’t take my eyes off of you, boy.”
“I guess so.”
Though Nancy and Patty are both amazing, nurturing women I watch Ella with concern. She’s met so many new people in the past few days. Then again, I don’t know what she’s used to. Where did she and Eleanor live? My ex changed addresses as often as she changed boyfriends. I hate knowing now that she had Ella along for the ride, while I had no idea. It burns me up. I want to call Eleanor and ask for more information, but I need to wait for Thayden’s counsel.
Ella handles it like a champ, swept up by the gale force that is my mama, Patty, and Nancy. Even so, Zoey is the one Ella keeps seeking out, looking to her as though needing the steadiness of her presence. I feel the same way. I hate leaving her even to shower and change into clean clothes.
When I come back downstairs, I find Ella playing Scrabble with Zoey and Nancy while Patty and Mama make sandwiches. The board game is the same one I played on when I was little, a bit warped around the corners. It was never my favorite game, mostly because I kept getting stuck with all vowels.
I stand behind Ella, wanting to rest my hand on her shoulder, but choosing to keep it on the back of the chair instead. “Who’s winning?”
“Zoey,” Ella says. “But only because she’s got all the letters with the most points.”
“Let’s not forget the double- and triple-word scores,” Zoey says cheerfully, placing down tiles to spell scythe. “That’s twenty-two points. Triple-letter on the H.”
“Nice one,” Nancy says.
Ella groans. “Aren’t you supposed to go easy and let me win?”
Zoey levels Ella with a familiar look before choosing new tiles. “Nope. Losing is a great opportunity to learn. I wouldn’t want to take away your opportunities.”
“Fine.” Ella’s tone is petulant, but she doesn’t quit, and Nancy winks at me when neither of them are looking.
My hand tightens on the back of Ella’s chair, matching the squeeze in my throat. I keep finding myself committing these moments to memory, like I already know they won’t last. As though this is the only time of its kind I can ever hope to have with Ella and with Zoey. These hours already seem like they’re slipping through my fingers. Sand through the hourglass, water poured into my open palms, sliding away.
Tomorrow, we’re supposed to go back to Austin. Monday, back to work. And I haven’t talked with Zoey about whether she wants to keep helping with Ella, or how that will work with her job. Especially considering my offer earlier this week to help mentor her. How will that work with us? There is an us, right?
I made promises with my kisses, declarations and confessions about my feelings, but I know we need an actual conversation. It’s so hard to consider the future, even next week, when Ella instantly shifted everything. Zoey and I are overdue for a DTR, if people still call them that these days. Maybe now this takes place on social media. Am I supposed to swipe something?
“Help me plate up lunch, Gav,” Mama calls, and I’m thankful for something to do that will keep me from imagining how all this is going to end.
After a big lunch of sandwiches and homemade potato chips, Zoey, Ella, and I head out to the petting zoo. Because it’s Saturday, there are families everywhere. Children running and parents pushing babies in strollers.
Ella’s eyes are wide, and I swear the children are as fascinating to her as the rabbits and baby goats. Her wide brown eyes blink at kids sticking their hands through the fence posts. Mama and Daddy have set up vending machines for the feed, disabling the coin slot so it’s all free. To say our animals are well-fed would be an understatement.
Ella holds out her white palm at the goat pen, barely noticing the goat lipping and nipping at her hand. Her gaze is on the girl about her age standing next to her, laughing with one of her brothers. Ella seems frozen, studying their interaction.
I frown, and Zoey gives me a look telling me that she’s noticed too. Zoey nudges Ella, and she giggles when the goat begins nibbling on the hem of her shirt. But when a younger boy accidentally jostles Ella, she tenses and jumps back from the fence.
Zoey takes her hand, and I’m frankly shocked that Ella doesn’t pull away. Two days ago, she would have. They walk toward the barn, where there are fewer people in the shadowy main walkway. I hang back, listening and wondering if Ella will ever let me take her hand that easily.
“They’re all smiling,” Ella says to Zoey in a quiet voice. She sounds shocked, like this is something completely foreign to her. “All of them. Just smiling and laughing.”
Zoey leans close to Ella. “Is that … not something you’re used to seeing?”
“No. I mean, not really.”
Just the one word. Zoey doesn’t press for more, but I can read the concern in her furrowed brow as she slips her hand around Ella’s shoulders.
“Do I need to be like that?”
It’s a question that makes me ache. I don’t even know how I would answer, but Zoey doesn’t hesitate.
“You don’t need to be anything other than who you are. Okay?” Ella nods, and Zoey continues as I keep eavesdropping from a few feet behind them. “It seems like you haven’t spent much time around other kids. Is that right?”
Was she in school? I remember asking Eleanor about Ella’s schooling. But she didn’t give me a straight answer.
“We moved a lot.” Ella sounds defensive. “I have tutors online.”
“That’s okay,” Zoey soothes. “I can tell your tutors have done a good job. You gave me a run for my money in Scrabble.”
I can tell that Zoey has more questions, but she and Ella move on to the next stall. A protectiveness rises from the pit of my stomach, clogging my throat and blazing in my chest. Hate is an ugly emotion, one I don’t want to feel toward Eleanor. As bad as things got between us, I never felt more than disgust and dislike. But now …
I hang back a bit until I can breathe evenly again. Mama joins me, smiling as she winds her arm around my waist. I sigh at the comfort in her touch.
“Eleanor really did a number on that little girl, didn’t she?” Mama says, and that feeling rises back up, so hot that I probably shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near the barn, lest I set it ablaze.
“It seems that way,” I say through gritted teeth. “You’re helping. You have no idea how much.”
“Zoey is helping,” Mama says, and we watch together as Zoey and Ella kneel near one of the giant pigs. The lazy thing simply lies there, snuffling in pleasure as they scratch behind its ears. When Ella giggles, it’s like a key turning some hidden lock inside me.
“Thayden is flying out,” I tell her. He’s done work for Mama and Daddy as well. He drew up their will and helped get things in order after they realized pretty quickly they needed more contracts and waivers for the petting zoo.
“What are you going to do?”
“I think I have to fight for her. But I don’t know what Ella wants. And I need to know more about the situation. What’s best for her.”
Just saying the words makes me feel a little braver than I actually am. The idea of fighting Eleanor for custody of the daughter I just learned about and who barely tolerates me is terrifying. It also feels right. The idea of it was foggy at first but has become more and more clear the closer I get to it. But it’s not just Ella, and not even just Zoey. It’s the two of them, both of them, in my life.
Somehow, it feels like too much to even hope for.
“That’s my boy,” Mama says, patting my shoulder.
Zoey and Ella move to the next pen, where a particularly grumpy llama stares blankly at them. Though I’m not always up on trends, I’ve seen colorful llamas decorating pillows and shirts and backpacks everywhere recently. Clearly, this was orchestrated by people who haven’t spent time around llamas.
“We should probably warn them,” Mama says with a smile.
“We should.”
But we don’t.
And when the llama rears back and spits on the center of Zoey’s black T-shirt, I can’t help but roar with laughter.
Ella shrieks and runs to Mama. I’m still laughing, slapping my knees as tears roll down. After a moment, Ella starts to giggle as well. Zoey stares at me in shock, then down at the disgusting llama deposit decorating her shirt, then back to me.
With a yell, Zoey charges toward me with murderous intent in her eyes, grabbing a garden hose that’s near the barn door. I’m laughing, even as she soaks me head to toe. And it’s in this moment, watching Zoey’s wide smile, her messy braid, and a shirt covered in llama spit, I realize that I’m helplessly in love.