Barefoot in the Sun (Barefoot Bay)(46)

She turned to see Oliver’s masculine silhouette moving down the hall, backlit by the window streaming morning light. Another wave of dizziness threatened, but this one was more primal and feminine, caused by the width of his shoulders, the certainty in his stride.

“Hey.” It was all she could manage in the face of the onslaught.

He reached her and gave a slight, secret smile. Had he forgiven her for disappearing last night? Hell, had she forgiven herself for the little temper tantrum? She’d certainly suffered for it overnight.

From the looks of his face, he hadn’t suffered at all.

“I bet Wanda told you the good news.”

Wanda laughed as she walked away. “I’m lousy with a secret.”

Then would she be spreading the news about…Pasha’s son?

“We’ll progress with the transfusion as soon as the oncologist reports are in.” Oliver reached to touch her shoulder. “You okay?”

“I am,” she finally said, forcing a smile. “I’m…I’m really sorry,” she said suddenly. “I shouldn’t have left.”

He angled his head, a rare look of uncertainty on his face—rare at least in these surroundings, where he never looked less than sure of everything.

“I freaked out,” she admitted before he could answer. “It was really intense and I—”

Evan stepped into the hallway, interrupting the conversation. “She’s asleep!” He announced, devastated.

“That’s what we want, son,” Oliver told him. “I’ve given her something to keep her resting today. Tomorrow’s going to be the biggest day of her life.” He turned to Zoe, a spark of warmth in his eyes. “First day of the rest of it, I hope.”

“What should I do, Dad?”

Zoe knew what she wanted to do. Internet searches for…the truth.

“Well, I guess you could hang around here or…” Oliver gave a beseeching look to Zoe.

She pulled herself together and looked down at the little boy. The one Pasha called Matthew. She had to know more about what that nurse had told her.

“You know what?” Oliver said suddenly. “I’ve put everything aside for Pasha today and we’re ready to roll tomorrow.” He put an arm around Zoe and reached for Evan’s hand. “Let’s do something together.”

Oh, the fantasy balloon was inflating again, damn it.

“Like what, Dad?”

“Anything you want,” Oliver replied.

Evan looked up at Zoe with a longing so clear she could practically hear him barking his plea to her: Tell him I want a dog!

Zoe inched back, shaking her head. “You two go off and have a father-and-son day. I’ve got…stuff to do.”

Disappointment flickered in Oliver’s eyes. Of course he thought she was running away, bailing before things got too stable and steady.

But that wasn’t true. Still, she couldn’t tell him. Not until she knew more.

“You go.” She eased away, toward the door. “I’m going to whisper good-bye to Pasha.” She escaped before either one could argue, slipping into the room where Pasha slept.

She hesitated for a second, then walked to the bed, taking in the peaceful countenance of a woman she thought she knew.

Pasha wasn’t capable of murder; Zoe would bet her life on that.

But then, hadn’t Zoe bet her life on everything Pasha said and did? Hadn’t she let this woman make every call and dictate every move and insist on a lifetime of lying?

Had Pasha given up everything for Zoe, or had Zoe given up everything for her? Everything.

The fairy tale. The family. The love of a good man. Everything.

What was she doing? Oliver was offering it to her again. And her answer? To run, of course. Maybe she thought she was running to smooth out this new wrinkle—whatever it was, however it affected them—but she was running nonetheless.

Damn it. When would she stop? When would she run to something wonderful instead of away?

With one last glance at Pasha, Zoe spun around and darted to the door, looking down the hall to catch that same silhouette and a much smaller one right next to it.

“Oliver! Evan!”

They both turned.

“Wait for me!”





Chapter Nineteen

Oliver actually heard his own breath hiss through his teeth when he turned and saw Zoe running down the clinic hall, her eyes shiny and sparkling.

“Dog,” she said, a little breathless.

“What?”

“Yes! We’re getting a dog!” Evan jumped noisily.

Oliver opened his mouth to protest, but when Zoe slipped her slender fingers into his hand and tugged him, any chance of saying no to anyone about anything disappeared.

“We’re getting a dog?” He echoed Evan’s statement, only less enthusiastically.

Zoe didn’t answer, but fished her keys out of her pocket. “We’ll take my Jeep so there’s room to get a crate and all the stuff and…” She looked at Evan. “A nice big pooch.”

He jumped again and Oliver finally found his common sense. “Whoa, just one second.” He shook his head, hard. “Not so fast.”

“Dad!”

She looked from one to the other, settling on Oliver. “Okay, what exactly are your issues with a dog?”

“Taking care of it.”

“I will!” Evan said.

Oliver rolled his eyes. “What about when you go back to Chicago in the fall?”

“I’ll bring it with me.”

Oh, that would go over big with Adele. “Uh, your mother is not a fan of dogs.”

“She’ll love my dog.”

“Not its pee on her white carpets.”

Evan giggled. “We’ll house-train it before I go back.”

“You think we can have a dog at the villa?” Oliver asked.

“Yes, Miss Lacey already told me I could.” Evan looked downright smug.

“Dogs are a responsibility, Evan. This isn’t a stuffed animal. It’s a living, breathing creature who needs attention and love and devotion…” His gaze shifted to Zoe, his chest suddenly tight. “That’s an awfully big commitment that some people can’t imagine making.”

She barely flinched at the not-so-subtle dig.

“I can do it, Dad.” Evan squeezed his other hand. “I promise I’ll take care of it, I’ll walk it, I’ll feed it, I’ll do everything, I’ll love it. And it can sleep in my room. I promise. Dad, please? Please?”

Zoe smiled. “How can you say no to that face?”

Knowing he had what he wanted, Evan slathered it on, grinning his most adorable smile.

Shit. “You can’t change your mind, Ev,” he said. “You can’t take it back if it turns out to be more than you can handle.”

He held up his right hand, the image of solemnity. “I swear, Dad. I swear to you.”

Oliver let out a sigh and dug around for anything at all that could counter that. Nothing showed up.

“All right, then,” Zoe said, scrolling through her phone. “Let’s find the local rescue shelters.”

This time Evan froze. “I want a puppy.”

“Well, they have puppies. Sometimes.”

He frowned, seeking support from Dad. “Don’t you want a puppy?”

“I think I’ve made my feelings clear on the subject. And if it’s your dog, you can get whatever you want.”

“Oliver!” Zoe’s eyes were wide. “There are rescue dogs who need homes.”

But Evan stepped forward to make his own argument. “Zoe, I want a puppy. There’s a pet store in the mall about ten minutes from here. I already Googled it.”

“Of course you did,” she said. “And you’re right. It’s your dog. Let’s go see what they’ve got.”

Half an hour later the three of them stood in front of a glass partition, looking at about fifteen puppies of various shapes and breeds, sleeping, eating, and generally looking adorable in their little cages.

Zoe leaned against the glass, watching as Evan walked back and forth, eyeing each critically, completely involved in the selection process. Oliver let his son go and stood next to her.

“So what changed your mind?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Pasha was sleeping and I had nothing else to do.”

“I meant last night, when you disappeared.”

“You know…things got dicey.”

He took her chin and tilted her face up to him, lost for a moment in inviting green eyes. “Things get dicey in life, Zoe. You can’t always—”

“I can’t decide!” Evan popped in front of them. “I love the Yorkie, but that’s not a very big dog.”

“Little is good,” Oliver said.