Chapter 47 | Zoey

Chapter 47

Zoey

“ D on’t you have something better to do with your Saturday than hang out at home?” Liz asks teasingly. “It’s summer. Go to the beach.”

I look up at my sister, my eyes unfocused after spending most of the day buried in a book. Liz showed up an hour ago to spring the pregnancy news on Dad, but he is, per usual, running late. Fortunately, after cohabitating for the summer, I don’t feel the need to entertain her, though she’s been pestering me since she arrived.

“It’s raining,” I say, motioning to the balcony doors.

“Exactly.” She grins. “Less tourists.”

“No. Whiny tourists with nowhere to go.”

She rolls her eyes. “Okay, but you have a boyfriend, don’t you? A best friend?”

I glance over at her. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“No.” She laughs. “I’m surprised you’ve sat here for the last hour reading a book on one of your last weekends at home.”

“Well”—I put the bookmark back in place—“Becca is with her boyfriend. And my boyfriend is prepping for freshman orientation with a bunch of my old teachers. So I’m here, reading my book in peace and quiet... Oh, wait.”

Liz laughs again. She does it easily now. “So Max is your boyfriend ?”

How did I fall for that? Oh my god. “You baited me!”

“Yup.”

I palm my face, hoping to hide the blush that’s spreading. I have a boyfriend. After the summer I had, I have an easy relationship with my sister and a boyfriend. Who would’ve guessed?

I hold up my phone open to a photo of me and Max canoodling on his couch last night with several hashtags—#adventuresofmaxandzee, #instaofficial, #mustbeserious, #boyfriend. “It’s Instagram official and everything.”

“And Dad approves?”

“Yes. He gave me a hug and said it made sense for me. Dating an older guy, that is.”

“Well, I’m happy for you, sis.” Liz’s hand hovers over her belly. There’s barely a change there, but she still does it all the time. I wonder if she notices. “As is your niece.”

I whip my head up. “What? Oh my god! A girl? When did you find out? How did you sit here for an hour and not tell me this?”

Liz crosses the room and sits next to me on the couch. “Breathe, Auntie Zoey.”

“I’m going to be an aunt.” I’ve known I was going to be an aunt for two weeks now, saw that little blur on the screen and heard its heartbeat. But the reality didn’t set in until I heard the word “niece.” It gave that cherry complete definition. Aunt. Niece. Besties.

Liz puts a hand on my arm and looks at me with wet eyes. “And, if you accept, a godmother.”

Tears spring to my own eyes, and I’m not even embarrassed. Liz has seen me ugly cry all summer. Happy tears are more than welcome. “Yes, of course. Oh my god.”

“You said that already.”

I stand, dabbing at my eyes, and walk into the kitchen. I rummage through the drawer by the fridge, where we keep scores of take-out menus.

“What are you doing?” My sister’s voice comes from the living room and still holds all the amusement it did moments ago.

No, not Chinese. Not shore takeout. Finally, I pull out the menu I was looking for and hold it up for Liz to see. “We’re celebrating. We always order Martino’s when we’re celebrating. What do you want on your pizza?”

The front door opens, and Dad walks in spouting apologies before he even drops his briefcase. He puts his umbrella in the rack and shucks off his jacket before looking up.

“Dad,” I say, the landline to my ear, “mushrooms and pepperoni?”

He squints at the menu. “Yes, perfect. What are we celebrating?”

I offer to pick up the pizza to give Liz a chance to tell Dad he’s going to be a grandpa on her own. Grandpa. Wow. Dad is older than most of my friends’ parents, but he doesn’t seem old enough to be a grandpa. That’s going to take some getting used to.

Martino’s is crowded, as I knew it would be. A rainy Saturday night is the perfect excuse to order pizza, and college students, even in Ardena, are notoriously poor. You can’t beat the Martino’s three-dollar slice and fountain drink with a student ID. Three dollars. It’s impossible to get a slice for that little anywhere else in town. I catch the owner’s eye so he knows I’m here, and he holds up two hands—ten minutes. Not too bad, I guess. I grab a Snapple out of the fridge and sit down at one of the tables closest to the door and completely out of the way. Not too many people are sitting and eating, but it’s still early. I pull my book out of my purse.

“Zo?”

No freakin’ way. Of all the people at Martino’s on this Saturday night, it has to be Andrew. And he feels it necessary to say hi to me after what he pulled at Mack’s. I almost don’t look up. I almost immerse myself in the fictional world I’ve been in all day. But a morbid curiosity gets the better of me.

“Hi, Andrew,” I say, holding my spot with a finger.

“Can I talk to you?”

I glance past him, but the line hasn’t moved in the two minutes since I arrived. “If you must.”

“I guess I deserve that.” He sits down opposite me and fiddles with his baseball hat. He’s nervous. Well, that’s something at least.

“What do you want?”

“Are you going back to Bellewood?”

I stare at him. That can’t seriously be his question. But his expression is grave and leaves no doubt that he wants an answer. “Yes, obviously.”

“That’s what I thought.” He takes his hat off and rounds the rim between his hands. “I’m transferring.”

“What?”

This has to be a hunger hallucination. Andrew can’t be sitting in front of me telling me he’s leaving Bellewood days before we’re supposed to go back. It isn’t the same haven for him that it is for me, but he was happy there. Happy enough.

“I applied to Drexel earlier this summer, after everything that happened in Wildwood, actually. And I got in. They called me today to tell me they found a dorm room for me.”

“Wow.” Literally no other words will come out of my mouth. The guy is leaving. The guy never leaves. “Congratulations.”

He looks up at me for only a second before his eyes refocus on his hat. “Maybe I’ll be better there.”

“Better?”

“A better person. Or at least better than whoever I became these last few months.”

This is where, in a normal conversation, I would assure him. But I can’t. Andrew might not be a bad person at heart, but to me recently, he can definitely be better. Maybe away from me and Claire and all of it, he can change. Or maybe this is who he really is. I hope that the latter is not the case.

“Maybe” is all I say.

“I’m sorry, Zo, about all of it.”

“It’s fine.” Which is true and not true. “I mean, it’s not fine, but I’m choosing to be over it.”

He meets my eyes now. “I’m not over it.”

For the first time since he sat down, I really look at him. He’s tired and drawn, a shell of himself.

“Does Claire know that?” I ask because I can’t let myself empathize with him right now.

“Yeah, pretty sure my behavior at Mack’s gave me away.” He shrugs. “We didn’t even make it to Wildwood.”

I try not to feel smug. I want to be above such a feeling, but it’s hard. A part of me relishes this information. After he purposely dismantled our relationship, he’s not with Claire because he can’t get over me. The rest of me is saddened by all of it. Any way you look at it, the situation sucks for every person involved. There are no winners here.

“Reid!” the cashier at the front of the shop calls above the din. The crowd cleared as we talked, and my pies sit waiting for me.

I stand and drop my hand lightly onto Andrew’s shoulder for the smallest of moments. A touch like this would’ve sent a jolt of love through me any other time, but now there’s only melancholy and a sense of what might’ve been. “Good luck at Drexel.”