Barefoot in the Sun (Barefoot Bay)(21)

She smiled at Tessa, only because, damn, the woman had tried for years to take that wall down. Really tried. And Zoe just shot sarcasm arrows at her year after year.

Her heart wobbled a little when she realized that Tessa loved her so completely that she took those arrows every time.

“Tess,” she said softly, her voice cracking and her pulse ridiculously high. “If I told you that the truth could do more damage to Pasha than cancer, ending her life faster than any illness, would you let this one secret go?”

Tessa swallowed hard, obviously surprised by Zoe’s response. “Okay, Zoe, you win.”

When Tessa leaned over to hug, Zoe put her face in Tessa’s shoulder and bit back completely unexpected tears. She might share a little and show a touch of vulnerability, but, damn it, she wasn’t going to cry.

“Hola!” Ashley’s voice called out from the kitchen. “SOB delivery is here.” Carrying a large plastic bag, Lacey’s daughter came out onto the patio, her fresh face and huge smile a balm to Zoe’s heart. “Aunt Zoe! We thought you’d be out on a date with the hot doc.”

Zoe shook her head, laughing. “Et tu, Brutus?”

Ashley squished her pretty face. “Does not compute.”

Tessa pushed up from her chair to snag the bag. “It means we’ve been too rough on Aunt Zoe. And you better have remembered the whole-wheat tortilla and not let the beef touch anything I eat.”

Zoe and Ashley shared an eye-roll, but Zoe appreciated Tessa’s defense.

Will and Clay joined them on the patio, each of them drawn to the women they loved, pairing up naturally while they greeted Zoe. Tessa disappeared with Ashley into the kitchen.

Clay nudged onto the chaise with Lacey, whispering something about the baby, then smiling at her as they shared secret communication. And Will pulled Jocelyn from her chair, sat in it, and tugged her back onto his lap, giving her a not-so-secret kiss.

For one suspended second, Zoe felt utterly alone.

I want a shot at something real with you.

During that one moment of loneliness, the price she’d have to pay to have that shot—which might cost her Pasha—almost seemed reasonable. Almost.

If only there could be another way.





Chapter Seven



A soft ding pulled Zoe out of a dream about flying. She was up in a hot air balloon, way over the ocean, looking down at two people dancing on the sand. They were singing and laughing—

No, that wasn’t laughter. That was the phone.

Damn it, only Tessa would text this early. Zoe stuck her hand out from under the sheet and patted the nightstand for her phone. Who else would text at the crack of dawn, probably looking for composting assistance or something equally riveting on a Saturday morning?

She managed to open one eye, blinded by streaming mid-morning sun. Okay, maybe not the actual crack of dawn. More like the gap of ten-thirty.

From the kitchen, a dish clattered and water ran, reminding her that she had to tell Pasha today. Pasha had been drowsy and disinterested last night when Zoe came home from Lacey’s, but there could be no more procrastination. Maybe Zoe should hide the panic bag beforehand so Pasha couldn’t convince her to run away.

Touching the phone screen, she squinted at the sender’s name.

Oliver Bradbury.

An unnatural zing woke up every sleepy cell.

Her finger lingered over the screen, not quite ready to read what he’d texted.

Their good-bye had been quiet, like neither one wanted to talk about what could happen next. But she had to find out. Would he see Pasha soon? Did he really expect Zoe to go hunting down a lawyer to lay history to rest?

If Zoe even did that—the idea was still filed firmly under “unimaginable” in her head—it would be the ugliest betrayal she could imagine. But if she didn’t, would Zoe ever have a chance for a relatively normal life?

Normal life now being a euphemism for “life with Oliver.”

But he’d put a stipulation on it. He’d made it conditional. Conditional love—well, that was an oxymoron. Zoe wanted unconditional, balls-to-the-wall, no strings, no demands, no compromises, no betraying loved ones who’d given up everything for her.

Not that she believed for one second such an animal even existed, at least not one she knew how to hunt and bag.

“Are you awake, Zoe?” Pasha called from the hall.

“Out in a sec, Aunt P.” She tapped the screen to read his text.

Moving in today. Meet us at the villa around noon?

With Pasha? Without? Did she have to show proof of a lawyer’s bill before he’d help her? Or did he want her to come over and watch Evan while he got them settled in?

Throwing the covers back, she climbed out of bed, wishing she had a plan.

You hate plans, Zoe.

Yes, she did. Because it was so much easier to live in the moment and go with the flow and roll with the punches and dig for meaningless clichés that described her inability to make a commitment.

You wouldn’t know how to handle a commitment if it bit you.

“Oh, shut up, will you?”

Pasha tapped lightly on her door. “Are you alone, honey?”

She blew out a breath and turned it into a laugh. “Only me and these male strippers I picked up at the Toasted Pelican. Come on, you guys, scram. Out the window.” She opened the door. “Of course I’m al—” She didn’t even finish, frowning at the ratty housecoat, flat hair, and washed-out face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Nothing? It didn’t matter the day or time; Pasha Tamarin always drew in eyebrows, lined her lids with some kohl, and gelled her two-inch silver locks into a gravity-defying spike style. The woman didn’t leave her room without a couple of pounds of silver and turquoise jewelry, and a blindingly bright muumuu draped over her narrow frame.

Not today.

Zoe frowned at her. “Why are you…” She gestured to the robe.

“Just feeling a little punk.”

Oh, God. Zoe stepped into the hall, putting a hand on Pasha’s shoulder to lead her toward the kitchen. It was time.

But she needed coffee to drop this bomb, and Pasha brewed it for Zoe every morning. Judging by the smell, today was no different.

Only it would be different in a few minutes because Zoe was about to break the news.

We got a doctor. And we’re getting a lawyer.

Her heart tumbled down to the bottom of her stomach, landing with a thud. But this wasn’t about how Zoe felt, and she had to remember that.

“Is it your chest ?” Zoe asked. “Or your throat?”

Pasha waved a hand as if to say it was nothing, but her pained expression screamed that it was most definitely not nothing.

“You’re getting worse, aren’t you?”

“I’m getting old,” Pasha replied, letting herself be guided to a ladder-back chair at the little table, where the daily newspaper was still open, an empty teacup next to it. “And worse,” she admitted softly.

Zoe turned to get a cup and pour some coffee, rooting around for the right words, the right way to start the conversation.

So, Oliver Bradbury, what a coincidence, huh? He’s an oncologist, you know. Guess what, Pasha, he’s agreed to see you and—

“Did you have sex with him?”

The cup slipped out of her hand, clunking onto the tile countertop. “Gee, Pasha, were you in on the bets my friends were placing? Apparently the odds are in my favor for getting laid.”

She didn’t laugh. “I know it’s been a long time since you’ve been with a man, Zoe, and that one always had a way of, you know, getting you going.”

There were some downsides to being this close to another person. “He doesn’t ‘get me going’ anymore.”

See, Zoe, you can lie to your Aunt Pasha after all.

Pasha snorted as if she could hear that inner voice of Zoe’s loud and clear. She often could.

“Pasha, I didn’t have sex with him.” Not…technically.

“But you did kiss him.”

Zoe carefully poured the coffee and scooped up an overload of sugar. “First of all, I fail to see what difference that would make in the scheme of things and I really fail to see how you could jump to that conclusion from the fact that he dropped by with his son to see Lacey and Clay.”

“I think it was a little more than that.”

On her way to the fridge for milk, Zoe leaned over the empty cup in front of Pasha. “Tea leaves talking this morning, Pasha?”

“No, Tessa was. She stopped over while you were still sleeping.”

Zoe yanked the fridge door open with way more force than it called for. “So you were in on the gambling.”

“She mentioned to me that you two disappeared for a couple of hours.”

Was it that long? Felt like ten minutes. “I showed him Bay Laurel because he’s—”