Page 12 of When Sparks Fly
Zoey pinched her lips together to keep from laughing. Chris had always hated shopping for feminine products. Thinking of him squirming if Hazel asked him to stock tampons gave her a perverse spark of pleasure—no sense denying it. “Your father is very aware that you are female. And since you’re his daughter, he clearly understands how the reproductive system works. Don’t be afraid to discuss it with him.” She stood, grabbing a nearby pair of jeans and rolling them up before packing them in the small bag. “Don’t ever be ashamed of something so natural.”
In the blink of an eye her little girl was going to be a woman. In five years she’d graduate. Then college. Then off to live her life.
AFEWHOURSLATER, Zoey was telling Mike all about it. “I can’t wrap my head around the idea that I could be a grandmother someday. Do I look like a grandmother to you?”
Mike was leaning back in the wooden chair her dad used to use. His feet were propped on a big box of vacuum cleaner belts, his red plastic cup resting on his stomach. He lifted it to take another sip of wine, shaking his head emphatically.
“I learned a very long time ago to never respond to a woman asking my opinion on how she looks.”
“You’re supposed to be my friend. My friend would be honest with me.”
He huffed out a laugh. “Your friendisbeing honest. That question is a trap and I’mhonestlynot going to answer it. But I’ll say this much...you’ll make a terrific grandmother someday. You’ve done a great job with Hazel. I assume she ended up going to Chris’s after all that?”
Zoey nodded, not sure why his casual compliment made her skin heat up the way it did. “After her little meltdown, she realized she had no real reason why she didn’t want to go. I think it was a control thing—she felt like she didn’t have enough choice in the matter. Add in a flood of estrogen, and panic briefly took over.” She reached for her own cup of wine. “PMS is the ultimate loss of control, especially at that age. You open your mouth and it feels like someone else is doing the talking. It’s a little like being possessed.”
He chuckled. “Becca used to say the same thing. She’d swear she didn’t mean the words that came out.”
Zoey stared at him in surprise. He looked up and frowned.
“What?”
She was on unfamiliar ground here.
“I... I don’t know. You usually have this little...catch...thing in your voice when you mention Becca. But just now, you sounded...normal.” She set her cup down and refilled it, then slid the wine bottle toward Mike so he could do the same. “Are those memories getting easier?”
His forehead furrowed. “I was going to sayno.But Nana and I were talking about it earlier today—how time dulls the edges eventually. She thinks I’m on a threshold of some kind.”
Zoey stared down into her wine. Mike had been stuck for so long in this limbo of being afraid to be happy again. Grief was different for everyone, but he’d been punishing himself ever since Becca’s accident. He had nothing to do with what happened. The driver had been drinking and claimed they were blinded by the sun when they came around the curve. But the car never should have been that far on to the shoulder where Becca was jogging. They were also speeding. Becca never had a chance, dying instantly.
“What kind of threshold?”
“That’s the kicker.” Mike sat up, bringing the front legs of the chair back down to the floor with a thud. “She has no idea, and neither do I. Is this memoving on, whatever the hell that means? Or is it just a hiccup and there’s some giant cliff ahead of me?”
He’d been a broken man after Becca died. He and Becca had one of those fairy-tale marriages—two beautiful, successful, kind people who truly loved each other. But their fairy tale didn’t have a happy ending. She was glad to see her friend beginning to move away from his grief.
Zoey picked up the small screwdriver and attached the base back on the upright vacuum cleaner standing upside down against the workbench. It was one of those massive all-plastic things that was like a Jenga puzzle to take apart and reassemble, but she’d managed to find the child’s sock that had clogged the intake.
“I told Vickie to have the book club lay off sending you on dates. But maybe youareready to meet someone?” For some reason, that idea weighed on her.
Mike frowned. “You told the book club biddies to stop setting me up? Why?”
“Did I overstep?” She’d thought she was doing him a favor, but maybe not.
“As if you ever could. It just surprised me. I thought you liked hearing about all the disaster dates.”
She tightened the last screw and flipped the vacuum cleaner upright.
“I do.”
As long as they’re disasters.She froze. What a weird thing to think.
“And what about you?” he asked. “Any disaster dates coming up for you? Another go-round with Nate Benson?”
“Do you really want to taunt your hormonal friend with the memory of that handsy asshole?” She started to laugh. “And he was sobadat it that I almost felt sorry for the guy. I mean, groping is one thing, but he didn’t even knowwhereto grope. I know my boobs are small, but they’re right there. They’re not invisible!”
“Definitely not invisible.” Mike’s gaze stayed on her chest a fraction longer than absolutely necessary.
Huh. That’s weird.