“I’ve decided to take you up on your offer. I’m going to London,” I tell him.
With a satisfied smile, he stands up and shakes my hand.
“Smart move, Zoey. It’s only up from here. I’ll get the tickets booked. A week from today you’ll be in London.”
Wow. I did it!
A week from today, I’ll be saying hi to the queen.
I can’t wait to tell Drew. The look on his face will be priceless. I know he’ll be proud of me taking this massive leap. And if he’ll take it with me, it will be even sweeter.
We could chat on the phone every day, use Skype, and maybe once a month he could fly over or I could fly back for a couple of days. We could visit Spain and attend La Tomatina, something we both dreamed about doing after we watched a documentary about it. Drink beer at Oktoberfest, then get drunk and into a fight, Chevy-Chase style. We could fly to Paris, eat croissants, and visit the Eiffel Tower.
It could be so romantic.
Him and me, long-distance lovers.
I have it all planned out, and as soon as Drew comes back home, the first thing I will do is tell him the good news.
Chapter Eighteen
Drew
“Hand me the wrench, son.”
I pass the wrench to my dad sliding it underneath the car. The engine on Betty is way worse than I had originally anticipated, and my dad’s quick to berate me for letting her run this poor for so long.
After the drama that unfolded last week, spending the days at dad’s property gives me the quiet time I need. Being outside the city, staring at nothing but green acres, is very therapeutic. My head needs clearing because so much of what happened last week frightened me—a rollercoaster of emotions.
At first, we went from Zoey playing coy with me after the wedding. Then, the whole Jess and Callie thing, I can’t even get into how angry that made me feel. A fucking nightmare.
And, of course, Zoey dropping that massive bombshell. We had a moment. A moment that could have changed everything between us if I hadn’t been blind drunk. I’m so desperate to remember what happened, anything at all. The slightest touch, the sounds her body made.
The worst moment of them all is the peak of the rollercoaster just before you’re about to go down. Playing the waiting game. Climbing slowly, your whole body filled with fear and anxiety, seeing the top and waiting for the unknown.
When my mother passed away, I was too young to understand the enormity of the situation. Studying for my medical exams, another terrifying moment. It was a make-or-break situation. Then, the first time I stepped foot in the ER. My heart was beating a million miles a minute, and I was certain I would choke on the spot and forget everything I’d learned.
But waiting for Zoey’s results—it almost killed me.
When the results finally came through, I breathed a sigh of relief that she was okay, but it was accompanied with much anger. How could she be so careless? Everyone knows you don’t go bareback. Not unless you’re in a long-term committed relationship. In hindsight, they were. The more I got to thinking, the more I realized it wasn’t really her fault. She was in love. She had been with the guy for well over a year. She was faithful and assumed he was too, given the length of their relationship. Although it seemed selfish to blame her, I could only think about myself. Self-absorbed and jealous that Zoey was intimate with a man I loathed.
Dad slides himself from underneath the car and moves onto the engine bay. I hand him a beer, something cold to quench his thirst.
“So how’s my girl, Zoey, doing?” Dad asks, stopping for a moment to sip on his beer.
Dad loves Zoey. She has a way of making him laugh, and he always tells her that she’s the daughter he never had. It feeds her ego. Occasionally, she throws jokes at me that she’d make the perfect daughter-in-law, and if neither one of us were married by the time we hit forty, we should consider it. Empty promises fueled by alcohol. No surprise that when I’d remind her of that the following morning, mid-hangover, she had no recollection.
“Fine. The same, I guess.”
Placing his bottle down, he grabs the dirty rag that’s hanging from his waist and opens the radiator. “What’s she doing these days?
“Uh, the same. She’s still working at that architecture firm. She’ll probably be there forever.”
Dad lifts his head glancing my way with a raised eyebrow. “Is she seeing anyone?”
“Not that I’m aware of. But who knows with her,” I respond matter of factly.
He doesn’t ask any more questions shifting the topic to Betty, cars being his favorite topic of conversation.