"Look, I wanted to give you my information before I head out so that maybe you and I could, I don't know, connect a little more. I know Quinn's got a head start on me, but—"
Janice beamed. "That sounds wonderful."
She rattled off her number, and Zoe programmed it into her phone. "Good. I'll be in touch."
"I certainly hope you are." Janice ran one of the huge serving platters under the warm spray of water, and Zoe watched her carefully, her mind reeling.
Ever since the revelation about her mother and father last night, her mind had gone into overdrive. She'd barely slept for thinking of all the ways she'd been wrong, all the things she could have done better… and, of course, with thoughts of Ian.
Today was going to be a day full of apologies, it seemed.
"You got something on your mind, sugar?" Janice asked as she bent to stow another dish in the washer.
"I'm just thinking… Well, have you ever had a guy who was sort of into you and also sort of your arch nemesis but not really?"
Janice laughed. "Those are the best ones, aren't they?"
The image of Ian's dark hair and crystal blue eyes came into focus. "Yeah, they are, huh?" Zoe said.
"Well, what about 'em?" Janice asked.
"It's just… I had this guy sort of thing going on, and I messed it up pretty badly. Now I'm just trying to think of a way to fix it."
"Are you sure it's something you want to fix?" Janice asked.
Again, the image of Ian's full lips pulling into a smile flashed across her mind.
"I'm sure," Zoe said.
"Well," Janice dried her hands on a nearby dishtowel. "In my experience, it's usually best to be honest and admit what you've done wrong."
"I can do that, but…" But what? She pictured Ian, alone in that little villa house, waiting for her in nothing but his towel.
"It doesn't seem like enough?" Janice offered, and Zoe nodded.
"I've been kind of…"
"Oh, you don't have to tell me." Janice laughed. "But, I find if I need to apologize and I was a real… well, you-know-what, I try to think of what might mean the most to that person and do something in that vein. Can you think of anything that would be particularly special to this person?"
Zoe let out a deep breath, racking her brain. She could get him a gift for his house, or maybe a new toolbelt.
But what did buying things mean to Ian? Nothing.
The things that meant the most to him were intangible—dinners with his family, time spent with his friends.
And that was when it hit her.
"Janice, do you have a pad of paper and a pen?"
"I'm sure I do somewhere."
"Can I have it?" she asked.
And, jeez, was she going to need a whole lot of paper.
Ian sat back on the bed, staring at the wallpaper with fresh eyes. He'd already taken his second shower of the day, phoned work five times, and cruised through the channels on the television about a thousand times over. Nothing helped. Nothing distracted him from the boredom or the frustration or the need to do something, anything at all that could show Zoe how he felt.
Ever since he'd gotten off the phone with his mother, he'd wanted to call her and set the record straight, apologize for lying and manipul