Page 69 of Unlikely
Lennox’s hearing loss has been a journey, one that’s paralleled with me finding out who Zara was. Unintentionally, she’s been the perfect distraction, and I’ve found myself giving Lennox the space he needs—more space than I would if Zara weren’t in the picture.
It’s a little bit selfish, but it turns out, no matter how hard you want to be there for the ones you love, you’re not always the only one they need.
“Yes,” I reply. “He lost it after a football accident where he hit his head.”
Her hands fly over her mouth. “Oh my goodness, that’s so horrible.”
“I was so upset about it,” I continue. “And that’s why Raine invited me over to your place that night. I find that I tend to overreact just a little when unexpected things happen.”
“I mean, is there such a thing as overreacting in those circumstances?” she challenges.
“Remember what I told you about my mom?”
She nods. “Of course.”
A humorless laugh slips out of my mouth, wondering if Zara is truly prepared to hear how deep my neurosis runs. “I kind of developed this obsession with trying to control everything, because if I could plan our days, and keep us safe and in line, there was less of a chance of something from the outside ruining it all.
“I have had years to think about my mother’s choice to give me up. I have gone through the seven stages of grief over the life I could’ve had.” I keep my voice steady as I continue. “Some days I feel gross and unwanted and unworthy, but other days,most of the days,” I emphasize, “I have come to realize for some of us the world is a cruel and cold place.
“I can’t begrudge a woman for not wanting to relive the single worst experience of her life every time she held her daughter.” A tear drops on my cheek, and I know now that the words have left my mouth, all my emotions will follow. “I can be sad as a daughter without a mother, but as a woman who lives in a man’s world, this is just par for the course, right? A woman paying for a man’s mistake.”
I hiccup as a sob escapes me when I notice the tears that are now streaming down her face. “She’s stripped of her safety and of her experiences as a first time mother, and I’m left as an orphan. And I couldn’t even tell you if they caught that man and if he even went to jail.”
“Clementine,” she breathes out.
“So,” I say as I wipe the tears off my face. “Long story short, when things happen that are out of my control, I panic and overreact, because my mind takes me straight to the worst case scenario.”
“And that’s why you live in survival mode,” she says. “And that’s why you do what you have to, to make sure your carefully constructed world stays the way you need it to.”
Zara repeats the exact words I said a week ago, and all the puzzle pieces finally come together for her. Her eyes stay locked on mine, her stare soft, chocolate brown eyes filled with empathy, understanding and something I dare not name.
Leaning forward, she wraps her hand around the nape of my neck. “Come here.”
She captures my mouth in a searing kiss, and I taste the salt of her tears.
“You’re so amazing,” she says against my lips. “And I know we shouldn’t be kissing here, but there is no way I could keep myself away from you for a second longer.”
I reach for the side of her face. “I think one more kiss won’t hurt anyone.”
I press my lips to hers, my chest feeling so light, the usual dark cloud that sits over me, lifting, as if sharing the ugliest parts of me with her has made me feel just that little bit more beautiful.
“In case nobody has ever told you,” Zara says, “you are the very best kind of person there is. You’ve grown into a loving, giving, and selfless human being.”
Our next kiss is slow and languid. “You did that,” she reminds me. “When people praise you, and they will, for the person you are—remind yourself that you. Did. That.”
“You better get us out of here,” I murmur against her lips. “Because if you keep sweet-talking me, I will not be responsible for the things I do to you.”
She reluctantly pulls her mouth away from mine.
“You’re right,” she says. “We need to go, because I can’t afford to get into trouble when I plan to come back here.”
“You do?” I ask, finding it even harder now to keep my hands off her.
“Once my background check comes through, and if you’re okay with it,” she says. “I’ll do a different evening so it doesn’t encroach on your time with them.”
I appreciate her offer, but it’s completely unnecessary. “No,” I say firmly. “I want you with me.”
Her smile is filled with endless amounts of gratitude, and my heart stutters at just how breathtaking she is when she looks at me like that.