Page 60 of Zach
“It’s family dinner,” she says with a grin. “We’re all at Ransom’s. We’ve eaten, but we’re
breaking out the dessert. Come up and have some. There are lots of leftovers.” She stops and corrects
herself. “There are a few leftovers. Those boys caneat.”
“I see,” I say, but I really don’t. “It’s probably better I skip. I’m not family. Besides, I have some
work to do.” I busily gather the papers again. Bree’s tanned hand covers the paperwork, pushing it to
the floor. Damn her for feeling so familiar. Two dinners, and all of a sudden she thinks she knows me.
It’s equally annoying and comforting.
“You live and work with them. I’m sure they’d be happy to see you. Come on, come upstairs. Just
for a few minutes.”
“A few minutes,” I murmur, more to myself. I can do a few minutes. I’ve never been to a family
dinner before. I’ve always wondered what it would be like. Maybe I could go from more of an
anthropological perspective and take some notes like a field researcher.
I can do hard things. I can do hard things.“Ok, yes. I suppose I could do that.” Clutching my
papers to my chest, I stand and ponder my next move. But as usual, one feeling overrides all the
others. “I have to take my shoes off.”
Bree grins and winks at me. “Go. Change into something comfortable. I’ll wait.”
I study her outfit, taking in the casual joggers and tank top. She has freckles right on the top of her
shoulder. How does she have tanned skin at the end of November in Chicago? I don’t think I’ve seen
the sun all week. Finally, I nod and push my way into my apartment. Kicking off my shoes as soon as
the door closes behind me, I moved to the dining table and dump all the paperwork.
I don’t actually have to do any of it. The staff in the marketing department is amazing. Zach put
together a great team and they can more than handle their workload. But rolling into my first full
weekend in Chicago, I felt…anxious. Not wanting to give myself too much time to think, I figured
bringing work home was a reasonable plan. A weekend alone in my apartment looms before me.
Nowhere to go, and nothing to do. No reason to even leave the house, now that I don’t have Birdie to
walk.
A few times I’ve considered tracking down the woman with the Dachshunds. Maybe she’d let me
walk her dogs. I even wandered toward the front desk to ask them what apartment she lived in, but I
chickened out and asked for the time instead.
Planting my hands on my hips, I let myself breathe through my panic.I can do hard things.So I go
