Swap Out (31 page)

I clear my throat, moving the toy to my other hand.

“Oh, I get it. Is this about your secret love affair with G.I. Joe?” she stage whispers and I shift a little, looking away before risking a glance at her eyes.

And as soon as I do, something in me sets on fire in the best way, a smile curving my mouth that I can’t stop and I’m not sure why, but it sends a blush rising to her cheeks.

That’s it. That’s all I needed.

I lean forward and tap my lips once, and she tosses off the throw blanket and turns to face me fully, resting her hand on my cheek and checking my expression once more before sweetly, she kisses me.

Definitely not a shark.

“You’re
nervous
,” she tells me, and I shouldn’t, but I still nod. “Should I be worried?”

Slowly, I shake my head no.

I reach over and take her laptop, setting it beside me on the coffee table. And when I look back to Zoe, I somehow find the words I’ve been searching for; all the hours of pacing in the garage and standing dazed in the shower nothing more than a useless attempt at figuring this out because all I really needed was her in front of me.

“I love doing this with you,” I say softly, and she ducks her head as she bites her lip. “Slowly redecorating the house so it’s a little more
us
, deciding what color to repaint the second guest room and whether to build that expansion on the back porch we’ve been talking about since we’ve been spending so much time out there.”

I take a deep breath and with a smile, she extends her hand out to me, palm up. I take it in mine, turning it over before bringing it up to my lips and pressing a kiss to her skin.

“I love you, Zoe,” I breathe into the back of her hand, then let my cheek rest against it. “I don’t want a life with anyone else.”

I soak in the comfort of her skin for just a moment before I sit a little straighter, placing her palm over my heart, and when her eyes dart down to my chest and then back up, I smile.

“I know none of this has been easy, and it’s been a lot of changes in a short amount of time, but I think that’s what we needed in order for this to happen. And I’m not promising things will ever be perfect. You’re too smart for me to even try convincing you of that. But there are promises I
can
make, and I’m ready to make them.”

“What are you saying?” she asks nervously, and I keep my eyes locked with hers.

“That no matter the fight, I will stay faithful to you. I will cherish you, be at your side in good times and in bad, love you in sickness and in health.” She sucks in a breath as her eyes sparkle with tears, and my voice catches in my throat but I push through it. “I’ll do my best to support you, to honor and respect you, to be a man that you can be proud to be with and I’ll do all these things until I meet my end. But the ‘obey’ part may take a little getting used to.”

She lets a laugh sneak out from between her silent tears, and in one smooth motion I toss the G.I. Joe high above us. I keep my eyes on Zoe’s as she looks up in surprise, the parachute opening and catching the air as he slowly drifts back down.

And I know the moment she sees what is in his hands: maroon string bridging the distance from each of his plastic wrists and tied onto the band of the ring, because her mouth gapes and her hands fly up to cover it.

“Catch him,” I tell her, more than a little smug that it totally worked, and she extends one of her hands just in time for him to land perfectly in her palm.

Her eyes tear up more as she takes in his cargo: a full carat of a cushion-cut enhanced black diamond, bordered in white accent diamonds and even more that travel halfway down the sleek white gold band. It’s a stop-and-do-a-double-take kind of ring, but it breathes sophistication and eloquence from every angle and it’s perfect for each little thing it represents between us.

I never realized black diamonds even existed, but there are a lot of things I never knew until fate deemed me ready. And this…this was fate. I stumbled across it in a sea of engagement and bridal sets that all looked the same, all swore they were different and special, but they weren’t. Not distinctive enough for Zoe, anyway. And that’s what black diamonds are: special.

Found in only one place on earth, older and harder than traditional diamonds, and instead of being made up by one crystalline structure it’s a thousand little pieces that form them. And yeah they technically don’t shine because they take light in instead of refracting it, but I think that’s what makes them so beautiful. They are a hoard of secrets and a complicated history, but occasionally you get a little glimpse of all they hold inside of them, and it’s breathtaking.

Doesn’t hurt that black is supposed to symbolize authority and power, and that’s Zoe in a nutshell. But according to like six different websites, when used in wedding sets they’re also supposed to refer to the fact that we have unknown possibilities ahead of us in our lives together, and I kinda like that. I’ll also admit to the fact that I had a moment when I remembered her telling me that her heart was black, and for the first time ever, I think she was right. She just didn’t add the diamond part.

Either way, no matter the interpretation or the reasoning behind it, there was no doubt in my mind that this was the ring I was supposed to propose with. The one I wanted her to wear for the rest of forever to show that she was mine and I was hers.

And if there is a God, she won’t hate me for choosing something so untraditional.

I cup the back of her shaking hand in my palm, and she peeks up at me as I take out my knife and carefully cut the strings binding the ring to G.I. Joe’s wrists. She jumps a little when the coolness of the gold hits her skin, and I put my knife away before setting the G.I. Joe beside me on the coffee table.

I watch anxiously as Zoe delicately picks up the ring, beaming as she turns it so it catches the light, and I can’t help but to smile.

“It’s
beautiful
, Luca,” she whispers and the longest breath I’ve ever held seeps out of me. But it doesn’t rush back in because I’m not surprised when her mouth twists, and she breathes, “I don’t know what to say.”

I lean a little closer, closing her fingers around the ring before wrapping her hands in mine.

“I don’t want you to say anything. Not right now,” I tell her, smiling comfortingly. “But I needed you to know how much I love you, that I want to marry you and spend my life with you.”

She sniffles as another few tears trail down her cheeks, and I brush them gently off. “But, what about—”

“If that future comes with kids, then let’s do it. I’m ready when you are. But if you’d rather it just be the two of us, then that’s what we’ll do. We’ll find a family we want to raise him and after it’s over, we’ll get a dog or a bird or both, and we’ll always have Scott to feed. Either way, Zoe, I’ll be grateful for every day that I get to call myself your husband.”

“Luca,” she whispers, and I drop a kiss to her closed hands.

“That’s what I want. But I don’t want you to answer until you know, absolutely
know
, how you feel. So,” I say and smile, “I’m going to get some clothes and spend the night at the apartment—”

“You don’t have to—”

“I’d rather you not feel pressured with me being here. Not that I’m saying you have to know by tomorrow or anything, but…okay yeah. I’d
really
appreciate a response sometime before I’m gray and no longer pretty enough to tempt you into saying yes.”

Her lips turn up, and when I tap my own, she kisses them fully. Slow and soft, my thumb brushing her jaw as my fingertips rest against the delicate curve of her neck, the pressure building like she knows that when we separate, I’m going to leave. And the fact that it feels like she doesn’t want me to go, it’s the best “maybe” I ever could have asked for.

“Thank you,” she whispers into my lips, her palm loving as it settles against my cheek and her forehead finding mine. “For asking me, for the time, for somehow finding the most perfect ring in the history of jewelry, just…for everything.”

“All I want is for you to be happy,” I tell her, and I’ve never meant anything more. “Just be happy.”

She nods, then kisses me once more. It’s salty with fresh tears and feels a little sad, but that’s okay. I pull away slowly and flash her one more reassuring smile before I stand and quickly make my way into the bedroom, grabbing a few pairs of shorts and some shirts and boxers, my razor and toothbrush and deodorant from the bathroom, because I have no idea how long this decision is going to take her. Hopefully about thirty seconds and then I can stay.

But she’s still on the couch and staring at the ring in her palm when I come back out, and when I set my stuff down on the entryway table we bought together a few weeks ago, her head snaps up.

“Do me a favor,” I tell her, tugging on my boots, and she nods as she stands. She glances down at the ring in her hand, then carefully places it on the coffee table before walking over to me. “Make sure you dead bolt both the front and the back door, and the garage door is down but triple check the door that leads from the garage into the house because the handle has been a little loose and it’s not catching all the way. Actually I’m just going to—”

“Luca,” she says, her hand settling on my chest. “I’ll be fine.”

I chew the inside of my lip. I hate, absolutely
hate
the idea of her spending the night by herself. It didn’t use to bother me but more and more, I can’t stand it, not with my constant anticipation of her next anxiety attack plus my shiny new paranoia about home invasions. Not to mention it’s not just
her
I’m leaving behind. I don’t even remember the last time we tried to sleep apart and made it through the whole night without me eventually coming over anyway or her calling me back because of some nightmare.

But still, I make the corner of my lips pull up. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I leave a kiss on her forehead and gather my stuff, taking a step towards the front door, but I don’t get far before she steps around me and stops me in place. I get one glimpse of the want and fear in her eyes, and then her arms are squeezed around my neck and her body pressed against mine, shivering like crazy.

“I love you,” she rushes out, and my eyes close as I hug her with everything I have.

“I know you do.”

“I just…I don’t want you to think—”

“I don’t. My idea, remember?”

She blows out a breath, her arms tightening around me. “Stay.”

I shake my head.

She lets out a single squeak that I think was a constrained sob, and I cup the back of her neck.

“It’s not because I don’t want to, but I’ve had a lot of time to think about this and you deserve the same.”

“I miss you already,” she whispers, and a broken chuckle escapes me.

I’m about to have one hell of a long, restless night, and it would be a thousand times easier if Zoe was with me, but that defeats the whole purpose. So instead of giving into every instinct I have to stay, to beg her to give the middle finger to any doubts she has and just say
yes
, I stay quiet and ease her face towards mine, kissing into her lips my promise to be patient.

It doesn’t last nearly long enough, my forehead leaning against hers as her hands fist into my shirt. I breathe her in one final time, and then I exhale, her fingertips trailing down my arm as I step around her and through the front door that I spent hours painting red, exactly like she wanted.

And as I walk to my car, I’m praying: to God, to destiny, to any deity, any at all that will make it so I can come back home, and soon.

Today has been…weird.

Maybe it’s just that my universe is a little tilted since I’m running on absolutely no sleep. But it probably has something to do with the fact that apparently Zoe and I have no idea how to talk to each other right now.

She came into work this morning looking fine. Same as she always does. Hair full of soft waves and creamy skin and perfect, pink lips. Red silk blouse and pinstripe black dress pants, black stilettos with a red sole on the bottom. And she smiled at me from the front door while I was dusting off a dining room table, but something about that smile was wrong. Nervous, uncomfortable, like there were a thousand thoughts racing through her mind and I didn’t have a clue as to what a single one was.

So I calmly walked over to her, trying to ignore the stiffening of her back, then ran my palm down her arm and asked if she wanted to go have sex in the warehouse. A relieved chuckle trickled from her lips, then she walked into her office. Which totally sucked because I was only halfway kidding about sneaking in a quickie before everyone else got here. Stress relief and all.

But it wasn’t long before the rest of the crew arrived, and we were too busy in our standard Friday morning chaos to broach the subject I’m trying to keep my mind off of, and am failing spectacularly at ignoring. Because every time someone asks her a question about whether this is the correct bedroom set and if this was the lamp she was talking about, and she says yes, my heart skips a beat. Which explains why I am refraining from asking her
anything
, and most likely why she’s relaying her instructions through everyone else.

I’m totally okay with that. And I’m not. I just…I hate this weird limbo stage we’re in where there’s all this tension between us, and I don’t know what I expected when I told her to take her time and think about it, but it wasn’t this. I almost want to tell her to forget the whole thing so we can go back to normal, but I don’t even know how I would begin to do that. To rescind a marriage proposal is probably the worst thing you could ever say to someone, and it wouldn’t be because I changed my mind about wanting to marry her, because I haven’t, but I doubt she would ever listen or understand. To me, if it’s stressing her out this much and driving us apart, then I don’t want to do it and
God,
this sucks. Why can’t something just be easy for once?

Oh, that’s right, because it
can’t.

I shove a couch across the warehouse floor a little harsher than I know I should, because it’s not even one o’clock yet and I’m already losing my mind. If she drags this out for longer than the next twenty minutes I’m not going to be above breaking something.

“Whoa, dude, that sofa key your car or something?” one of the newest grunts I hired in my ongoing efforts to replace Kevin asks me, and I sigh and scrub a hand over my face.

“What’s up, Paul?”

“The Couch Queen wants you in her office.”

My head whips towards him with a glare. “Don’t call her that.”

“Oh, that’s right,” he drawls, crossing his arms with an approving nod. “I heard the rumors but didn’t think it was true. So, no bullshit,” he says, his voice lowering as he steps a little closer, “does she make you call her ‘Boss’ when you’re—”

“Get your shit and get out,” I growl, pointing to the door, and his eyes widen.

“What?”

“You’re fired. Get out.”

“Fuck you, you can’t fire me,” he spouts off, and I arch an eyebrow at him.

“Zoe!”

It takes her a second, but she eventually wanders around the corner into the warehouse with a dramatic sigh. “You screeched?” she says sarcastically, and I narrow my eyes at the douchebag still scowling at me.

“I just fired Paul,” I tell her, seeing her shrug out of the corner of my eye.

“That’s unfortunate.” She looks over at me, calm and almost bored, asking, “Was there anything else?”

“Nope,” I tell her.

“Good, then I need to see you in my office. Bye, Paul.”

She flashes him a cold smirk then turns on her heel and strides away, Paul staring after her then turning his furious gaze on me.

“Fuck both of you.”

I follow him out to the front door and watch until he speeds out of the parking lot.

“Did Paul just get fired?” one of the other grunts asks me from where he’s standing around doing
nothing,
and I grin cruelly.

“Yep, and you better get the truck unloaded because heads are fucking rolling today.”

He and the other two dumbasses take their cues and scurry into the warehouse where the box truck is backed up and full of furniture I picked up for Zoe this morning. And while they scamper off, I march into Zoe’s office, shutting the door behind me and collapsing into my seat.

“So…” she drawls, tilting her head at me from her chair, “want to tell me what that was all about?”

I groan and shift, propping my elbow on the armrest and leaning my temple against my fist. “Not really.”

“Okay, well can you tell me if he deserved to be fired or—”

“He deserved it. Mark it as inappropriate workplace behavior or violating the code of conduct.”

“We don’t have a code of conduct,” she tells me, and I gesture harshly.

“Then call it whatever you want!”

“Luca,” she hisses, and my eyes squeeze shut as I lean forward, my hands tugging at my hair.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble. “Just…ignore me.”

She stays quiet for a long time, then softly says, “I’m not ignoring you.”

I scoff.

“Hey,” she says gently, and I glance up at her. Her face searches mine for an extended moment that feels like forever, the corner of her eyes and mouth dropping down. “Did you get
any
sleep last night?”

“Sure,” I lie, and the arching of her eyebrow calls me on it instantly. “No.”

She blows out a breath, running a hand through her hair. She lightly shakes her head, then leans forward with her elbows on her desk, her hands covering her face.

Yeah, that does not look good.

“Zoe,” I say, reaching forward to run a knuckle down the back of her hand, “it’s fine, just hard being away. That’s all.”

Her shoulders lightly shake, and I get up and move to her side, kneeling down beside her.

“Sweetheart, look at me,” I tell her, and she pulls her hands away, setting them in her lap. Her face turns towards mine, and though she doesn’t look at me, I can tell her eyes are sparkling with tears. “I know this is hard, and scary, but there are more than two options here. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing, okay?” She sniffles but doesn’t nod, and I hook a finger under her chin. “All I want is you, any way I can get you. Ring or no ring, I don’t care. Nothing has to change.”

She offers me a sad smile, then nods and wipes at her cheeks. “I know that. I just…” She blows out a breath, lightly stroking her nails though the hair by my temples. “Long night. I didn’t sleep either.”

“Then why don’t we just call it a day? We’re both exhausted, both on edge. Let’s just cancel everything else and go home and get some sleep.”

The corner of her lips pulls up, her fingers toying with the chain at the back of my neck. “I would love to, I really would. And we technically don’t have anything else on the schedule for this afternoon—”

“Perfect.”

“But a client is supposed to come by later and sign some paperwork, and I can’t go.”

I nod. “Tell you what: you go, I’ll stay and take care of the paperwork and as soon as I’m done, I’ll be there.”

“Thought you were on the space-to-think plan right now,” she says a little teasingly, and I shrug.

“Tried it, realized it was a lost cause. Missed you too much.”

She gives me half a smile, then her eyes begin tearing up and I don’t know what I did, what I said.

“Zoe…”

“Sorry,” she whispers, then wipes at her eyes again. “That um, that would be really great if you would stay.”

“No problem,” I tell her with a smile, then stand and she does the same. I wait while she slings her purse onto her shoulder, changes the settings on her desk phone and closes down her computer.

“She um, she just needs to sign a standard decorating agreement—”

“I’ll take care of it,” I promise her. “Just go home and try to get some rest, okay?”

She nods, and I only get a glimpse of her mouth twisting down before she hugs me: one arm wrapped around my neck and her face hidden in my shirt.

“I love you,” she whispers, and peace flows through me as I run a hand down her hair.

“I love you.”

She pulls back and stretches up to kiss me, her lips melting into mine as my knuckles brush her jaw, my other hand resting against her lower back and pulling her closer so I can feel the curve in her stomach nudge mine. She trembles and pulls in a shaky breath, kissing me softer and somehow more desperately until she pulls away completely, quickly walking around my side and not sparing a glance behind her when she quietly says, “Bye.”

*              *              *

I finally pull into the driveway an excruciating six hours later, after dismissing the rest of the crew once they unloaded the truck and then waiting, and waiting, and waiting some more. Zoe’s client waltzed in at half-past six, then spent twenty minutes rattling my ear off about what an amazing decorator Zoe was instead of signing a grand total of three sheets of paper. Three. But I finally got her out of there and closed the store, stopped by City Market to pick up some white carnations cradled in baby’s breath, along with a new package of food dye, and I can barely keep my eyes open. But it’s suddenly being helped by the fact that my eyebrows are hitting my hairline at the otherwise empty driveway. Maybe she parked in the garage, but she never does that.

I grab the bouquet and food dye, then make my way up to the front door, but find it locked. Guess she’s still asleep. I quietly unlock the door, but the moment I open it, my heart stops. And not a stutter. Not an out of rhythm thump.
Stops
.

My duffel bag is by the door, so full of clothes it’s not even zipped. Beside it sits my climbing pack and a couple of Ziploc bags containing my spare razors and the bottle of cologne I hardly ever wear, but when I do, she never stays more than six inches away from me. There’s also a grocery bag that looks like it’s full of my whisk and other cooking utensils that have slowly migrated into her kitchen, and at the front of the group of my belongings is the G.I. Joe. Along with the gray velvet jewelry box that used to contain my dog tags and I would bet anything now holds the ring.

My jaw shakes and I lock it shut, my hand tightening over the base of the bouquet. She’s said over the last week more times than I can count that she’s ending everything, that she wants me out of her house and life, but I’ve never believed her because she always changes her mind ten minutes later. And never,
never,
has she gone this far.

I swallow down the pain as much as I can, and I numbly drop the flowers and dye on the entryway table before slowly making my way farther into the house. I check the bedroom, but it’s empty. Bed made, like she never even touched it. Curiosity or maybe just masochism makes me check the closet, and there are holes in places where my things used to be: empty shelves and neglected hangers, a third of the space just open and derelict. My body slumps against the door, my shoulder catching my weight, but only barely. My gaze travels down and stumbles on the sight of the clothes she was wearing earlier, her red blouse and black pants and shoes all in a heap on the floor.

Something catches in my throat and my eyes squeeze shut against it, and after more breaths than I want to admit to taking, I make myself turn away. I check the other two bedrooms for any sign of her and find a green-striped suitcase on the bed in the second one, and my steps can’t carry me quick enough to the door that leads into the garage. I throw it open and flip on the light, and there’s a black Dodge Avenger parked inside.

Tori.

I slam the door and rake my fingers through my hair, allowing myself one second, just one second to let the hurt flood me. I have no idea how she could’ve gotten here so fast when it’s a seven-hour drive from where she lives in Pueblo…

My muscles seize. She
knew
. All damn day Zoe knew what her plan was, and I gave her the perfect excuse to do it without me being here. She had it all sorted out, reinforcements called in and everything. Christ only knows where they are, if they assumed I would get my shit and disappear, no confrontation needed. Well fuck that. I’m not leaving until they get back here and Zoe gives me a real, viable explanation as to why she decided that not only did she
not
want to marry me, but she wants to dissolve
everything
.

I move again, back to the entryway so I can grab my stuff and start loading it up since I sure as shit am not going to want to do it after Zoe and I go at least ten full rounds. And even if she claims it as a mistake and changes her mind, again, I’m
not
staying here tonight. She has to learn that she cannot treat me this way anymore, and I don’t care how much she cries and begs me to stay. I’m not going to do it.