Under the Table(40)
She looked over at Tristan, who hadn’t even attempted to get a word in edgewise. He was merely listening, with the occasional nod of his head.
“Ruth fought for her right to party and she’s been partying ever since.” Zoey sighed wearily. “I’m tired of always having to be the grown-up.”
“I hear you. It sounds infuriating. As someone who doesn’t have any siblings, I can’t really relate. But maybe because she knows she can count on you to catch her if she falls, she feels free to take bigger risks?”
He was calm and levelheaded as always, refusing to see anything but the good side of people. Through the buzz of hard lemonade and the fog of anger, Tristan still managed to soothe her.
“I think you’ve been under a great deal of stress. It’s completely understandable.”
He put a gentle hand on her knee. A friendly gesture that managed to send her already scattered nerves reeling. With an impulse brought on by dizziness and a myriad of emotions, she reached over and wrapped both arms around his neck.
He didn’t return the hug, didn’t rub her back and coo to her that everything was going to be all right. He stiffened, his arms awkwardly at his sides until she pulled back and placed her lips against his smooth cheek.
“Thanks, Tristan,” she whispered in his ear after the kiss. “You’re a sanity saver for sure.”
He clumsily gave her back several pats. Zoey felt the hesitation and pulled away from him, took note of the discomfort written on his face, and flushed with guilt and embarrassment. Being attracted to him was a mistake. Touching him was a bigger one. She hadn’t shown up at his door looking for commiseration, she was looking for him to save her. The thought triggered a surge of renewed anger. The only thing she could do was fall back on her old standby of making a hasty retreat.
“I have to go,” Zoey said abruptly, standing up.
Tristan stood up too. “Zoey, wait. Don’t leave. You’re tipsy. I’ll make you something to eat.”
“I’m fine,” she said quickly, handing her empty bottle to him. “Can you throw this out for me?”
“At least let me call—” he began.
“Don’t you dare say it!” She cut him off with a talk-to-the-hand motion in his direction. “I don’t need your car service. I don’t need your food. I don’t need your attempts at chivalry. I know how to both walk and hail a cab. I’m sorry I bothered you with this.”
The last thing she saw was his dumbfounded look when she turned back around at the door.
“This isn’t your fault. I just have to get back to doing what’s best for me.”
He nodded silently, with bewildered eyes, as the door closed behind her.
Chapter 16
When it came to Tristan Malloy, it was time for Zoey to start implementing some self-control. The crush had gotten too big. She wasn’t going to be able to wean herself off him; she was going to have to go cold turkey. Armed with Ruth’s original and knowledgeable advice, Zoey went about the business of keeping her distance from Tristan. She was prepared to deploy all the polite ways to avoid him, but she couldn’t shake the rush when she so much as thought about him. For the first day, every time her phone chimed, she was filled with dread that it was Tristan, followed by disappointment when it wasn’t. She had gotten used to hearing from him daily. The way she had stormed out of his place had likely freaked him out. She tried to look at that as a positive thing.
Ruth didn’t return to their apartment until the morning after her court date. She walked in as if nothing unusual had happened the day before. In fact, she looked like she was basking in afterglow.
“You’re in an awfully good mood,” Zoey said begrudgingly.
“It is a beautiful day,” Ruth replied, still looking dreamy.
“Guess you found a replacement for Blake?” Zoey couldn’t help delivering the jab. Did Ruth understand the consequences of taking someone for granted?
“As a matter of fact, I did.” Ruth was beaming. “I like to call him Blake 2.0, the reboot.”
“I don’t get it.”
“After I was so rudely abandoned at the courthouse, I did some thinking. You were right, I had turned Blake into Mr. Dependable. I didn’t appreciate him. I texted and called him about a hundred times until he finally answered. I insisted that I was coming over to his apartment. I apologized profusely, then sat like a good girl while he vented his spleen. His ranting had nothing to do with me. There was a lot about this wedding coming up that the bachelor party at the Marquee was for. About how his ex-wife was going to be at the wedding with her new boyfriend. How disgustingly sweet they were. Now Hollister would be shooting daggers at him through the whole affair as well. I waited until I was sure he was almost done, then I kissed him. Mostly to shut him up. Then I told him I would go with him to the wedding as the most refined dame he ever saw. Then we had the most impolite night in recent memory.”
“Who doesn’t love a happy ending?” Zoey’s voice was half awe, half sarcasm.
“He’s so proper. I thought he was too buttoned up. But this time?” Ruth gushed, accompanied by a long languid stretch. “A complete freak between the sheets!”
Considering just how many freaks Ruth had kept company with over the years, that was quite an endorsement. Zoey prayed she wouldn’t offer details. She didn’t want her impression of Blake tainted with images of him wearing a leather full-head mask with a zipper for a mouth or trussing Ruth up like a turkey. But there was something else. Ruth’s voice changed when she spoke about Blake. She sounded . . . respectful. And sweet, even. When Ruth packed a small bag before leaving for work and told Zoey she was spending the night at Blake’s, Zoey knew it was serious. Blake was getting two nights in a row, during the week, no less. That was unprecedented.