Zia… Greg’s Rooms, The Lair

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“Congratulations on the baby.”

Zia fiddled with her fingers in an attempt avoid eye contact.

Wren had toned up quite a bit. The last thing she looked like was pregnant. What had her friend been up to since she’d been gone? Gone was the cherubic plumpness of a girl. That trait had made Wren a cuddly little ball of joy that Zia loved and oddly missed. Instead, in front of her stood a shapely, full-bodied, curvy woman with a sense of purpose and hope. Her friend had done a lot of growing up and changing into a great woman in the last few months.

Outward appearance changes aside, Wren also presented a picture of sound emotional health with a definite glow. Gone was the timidity and shyness Zia had expected to be replaced with a grounded sense of self. Wren looked like a woman in love and full of life. She looked at peace and full of joy.

Impressive.

Envy tried to encroach, but Zia was fast enough to evict the thoughts that would try her. She would be happy for Wren if it killed her.

“I need to get a pregnancy test to confirm, but I know we’re pregnant. Matt is beside himself. He’s so happy. Still got to find out how Miss Connie knew. It’s fitting, though, when it comes to her. She’s the glue that holds everyone together. You’ll see.” Wren rubbed her tummy again and moved from the entry into the bedroom to come closer.

What was it with everyone hanging out in the bedroom doorway? Did she stink or something? Wren’s voice cut through her musings.

“Wait until I take you over to The Diner to show you the setup she helped me concoct for my baking business. That lady is amazing.”

Zia saw how frequent Wren placed a hand on her abdomen as she spoke. There was no doubt about it. Wren would be a great mother. The gesture was loving and sweet. Wren was that person, genuine and good through and through. Zia didn’t deserve to have that caliber of a friend in her corner. Not with how trifling she’d been toward Wren.

“Guess I should have kept in touch more—while I was gone.” Zia didn’t try to keep the sadness and self-pity out of her voice.

Wren had been her closest friend in Atlanta. After the kidnapping, Zia was so self-absorbed in her trauma that she’d went ghost and had all but forgotten to reach out after bolting back to Texas. Humble pie with a side of crow was too good for how she’d shown her ass to the one person she counted as her best friend—Wren.

So what if her ex-boyfriend that would be the punk-ass Patrick had turned out to be an alien dinosaur-bird creature? That fact still didn’t negate her duty to treat Wren with love and loyalty. If not for Wren coming to her rescue, Zia might not be alive.

Zia couldn’t shake the uncomfortableness of being in the presence of Wren. All she’d shown the woman was distance and disdain. In true fashion of her inherent goodness, it had been Wren to reach out to reconnect during dinner tonight. Zia jumped at the chance to get away from the crowd when Wren had extended an invitation to “hang out” for a bit before bed. Dinner had been an obstacle course of pleasantries, dodging probing questions, and him.

She’d mustered up enough courage to socialize during dinner with this peculiar collection of people inhabiting this odd building. Once again, Wren had come to her rescue when their presence and questions were too overwhelming.

“Thank you, but you know we’ll always be good. No worries, I promise.” Wren came to sit next to her at the foot of Greg’s bed. “I’m just happy you were up to a visit tonight while Lucien meets with Greg.” As if sensing her apprehension about what would come next, Wren added, “And, no, we don’t have to talk about that night—not now. When and if you ever want to discuss anything about it that you don’t want to with Greg, know that I’m here for you.”

“Why would I want to talk about that night with Greg?”

“Ah, well, he was the one to do most of the confronting of Paula—I mean Patrick—during that ordeal. No one would blame you if you had loads of questions about what went down and why.”

Zia didn’t want to think about that night, let alone talk about it. Giving audible utterances to her nightmares might make them real again. No, she never wanted to talk about that night again. Forgotten would be the best thing that night could do for her.

Instead of saying as much, Zia went with the polite route. “Thanks for understanding. So glad you’re here. I missed you so, even if I didn’t show it.”

Wren was the one person who had been there for her through thick and thin. She was like a sister Zia never had. The shame and embarrassment of how callous Zia had been to this angel of a woman forced her head down. Facing Wren was hard.

“Zia, look at me. Zia?” Wren’s soft tone and delicate scent eased Zia’s ability to relax a little. But not enough.

Zia’s head had a mind of its own, shaking no with vigor like an impetuous child. She hated when her emotions took over to paint her weak and silly.

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” Wren paused and used her small, warm hand to cover hers. “When have I ever tried to make you feel bad about being you? I love you, and there’s nothing that will stop me from holding you in my heart. You and Quinn are my closest friends. I’m still working on wearing Hildy down, but that’s not the issue right now. Zia, you don’t have to shut down. Not here. We want to love on you and help you heal.”

“I was fine until you mentioned Quinn. You know she doesn’t like me, and for good reason. I’m not like y’all. I don’t get along with other women besides you, and you know that.”

Wren gave her hand another squeeze. “I know that you are a great person. I also know that you belong here.”

Before Zia could catch herself, her body froze and stiffened again. Wren’s words about being here stoked fear and confusion down to her core.

Why?

“Don’t say that. I don’t know if that’s the case. Greg doesn’t even like me like that. He’s nice and kind, but I don’t think I’m his type. He’s an intellectual.” Zia made a circle around her head to stress the point. “He’s so much a thinker, always in his mind. Way smarter than any other guy I’ve ever dated. I can’t keep up with that. I need a talker to let me know where we stand and how he feels about me.”

Wren rubbed her arm. She was great like that. Zia needed touch and connection. Wren always knew when to give what she needed. “Aw, Cupcake, he’s way past just into you.”

“Don’t pity me, I’m fine.” Zia winced at how much of the lie poked through her words.

“I won’t overstep my bounds, but you should give Greg the benefit of the doubt. Spend some quality time with him before you make that judgment.”

“I’m telling you, he’s not into me like that.”

“And, I’m telling you, he’s not like any other man you’ve ever encountered. You’ll need to be different—your truest self—to benefit from what you and Greg can have.”

“So you say, but I know what I know. He is not the one, and we are not the two. Therefore, I’m going to hit the road, boo.”

“Funny rhyme, but it’s a defense mechanism that you and I both know won’t hold up to the truth.” Wren’s focus on her profile might as well have been direct sunbeams for its intensity. “Cupcake, I won’t pressure you, but I will demand that you allow yourself to be you. Zia, no one will be more committed to you than Greg.”

“He doesn’t want me!”

“He doesn’t want the false you. You know the one you give every man. Precious one, please do this for me?”

“Do what?”

“Be yourself. Be like you are with me when you’re with him. No coy statements, tempting, teasing, or other stuff you do to placate other guys’ egos. I’m here to let you know none of these men here are like any other men in the world. They don’t suffer facades. Zia, if you want to have the best life with the best man for you, be yourself around Greg.”

Zia wanted to look up and into Wren’s face to see why she said such things, but the weight of conviction might as well be the weight of the world on her neck.

“Wren, why is this so important to you?”

“Because it’s important to you—enough to change your entire life. That’s why.”

They sat, quiet and stared at the blank separating wall between the bedroom and common area. Zia wasn’t sure of what happened, but she grasped for the comfort that flowed from Wren to her in that time. Void of words but full of meaning, Zia allowed Wren’s therapeutic vibes to wash her soul. The single tear that smarted with a threat to fall was vanquished with a quick swipe of the back of her hand.

Wren spoke. “Zia, are you ready to look at me now?”

Summoned strength to speak didn’t fail her as Zia was able to amplify her intent with sound. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

When Wren guided Zia’s focus to meet hers, there was no desire to protest. “You and I are friends. I chose not to try to intrude on your healing time away from here. What you went through was tremendous. I sense that you’re far from completion of the healing process. Allow Greg to help you heal. He can do that for you—with you.”

A flood of heat rushed to Zia’s face surely rendering her a rankled mess. “I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me.” The words tumbled out faster than Zia could process. “I took the time away to get my looks back enough to show my face around here.” The laugh she tried to sell that line with fell flat between them.

Wren caressed her cheek with the back of her hand. Wren was the only woman she felt safe enough to show this side of herself. There had never been and most likely would never be that sick feeling of being sized up or competition she felt with other women.

“That statement about your looks is one that you don’t have to worry about around here. I won’t get into things that you and Greg should discuss, but I will say this—Greg sees the real you. He couldn’t care less about your outward appearance.”

“That’s painfully obvious.” Zia couldn’t stop her fingers from inching up to trace the small lines of scars that lingered from her kidnapping. “It’s like I’m repulsive to him. He doesn’t respond to anything I do to show him my interest.”

“Then stop doing all the things you usually do. Take a chance to ask for what you want and need. Or, how about you tell him what you want and are experiencing. Vulnerability is scary, but it goes a long way to communicate sincerity. Give it a try.” Wren gave her a look of understanding that went far beyond words. “Greg is a wise soul. He communicates on many levels. When your actions fail to communicate your truth, mix it up, ask for what you need or talk about what’s going on inside.”

“Why are you so pro-Greg?”

“Because I have a good hunch that you two are great for each other.”

“Yeah, right. He’s polite for your benefit.”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop with the self-degrading talk. I’m not going to keep trying to pump up a flat ego.” Then Wren did something Zia would have never thought her friend would do in a million years. She pinched the hell out of her.

“Ow, not cool, Wren!”

“Snap out of it. You’re not being the person I know and love.” Expressive eyes peered into her own as Wren continued. “I see you in there, hiding and afraid. Come out and let us help you heal.”

“You make it sound like I need to be in a circle of love at some get-right self-improvement conference.”

“Maybe you do, but all you got is me—and Greg. Zia, cupcake, I can only imagine what you’ve been through. You need support, answers, and a chance to get your life going in the right direction. There’s a reason you came back. Don’t squander the chance to see the full potential of what you can have.”

“Wren, why do you sound like a cast member from an airy-fairy cult?”

Wren gave her a light punch in the arm. “I do not. What I sound like is a challenge to the false narrative playing on a loop in your head.”

Zia tried to lighten the mood with a laugh that sounded fake and forced. “You’d make my therapist proud. Look at you sounding all therapy-like.”

“I’ll sound however you need me to if it helps you to push past all the crap and give yourself a chance to live.”

No rebuttal came. Zia gulped air that forced her to silence.

“What? No come back? Well then, looks like I’ve finally bested the great Zia Carter when it comes to rationality in the face of surviving life.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Chica. I could still muck it up so bad, y’all will kick me out of here with pitchforks and axes.”

“Highly unlikely. But, seriously…” Wren stopped grinning to give Zia a sober look. “We all know what you’ve been through, maybe more than you know. There’s a lot of answers you deserve to have. Allow yourself to get them. Again, I’m not going to overstep my bounds on this. Only you can decide for your life. I would ask that you give yourself time to sort things out before moving back home or making any other brash decisions.” Wren squeezed her hand again. “Will you do that for me?”

“Hey, is that you in there, Wren?” The deep vibrations of the masculine voice floated through the doorway.

Zia fought to right herself after her stomach did a flip to marvel the best rollercoaster ride. Greg’s voice tuned her up enough to send visible chill bumps of excitement through her body.

“Yeah, come on in. I was just leaving.”

Zia watched in slow-motion horror as Wren stood to leave. Greg darkened that insufferable doorway with a casual grace that teased and tempted Zia to run into his arms.

Wren looked between the two and with a chipperness, Zia hadn’t seen before said, “Welp, goodnight and see ya!”

Damn her! The little sprite was faster than Zia remembered. Wren had made it to the door, under Greg’s arm, and out the apartment before Zia could get her mind and words to come back online.

Another thorn pricked her ego—Greg’s sexy grin. He was still that casual controlled guy she couldn’t crack or figure out. She stole a glance as he watched her best friend and last chance for hope to survive a night here dash out the apartment. Nope, none of her lust for him had abated. She still itched to touch him.

Blue eyes sparkled with life when he turned back to her. Zia was thoroughly shook. The man unsettled her with a look.

“So, did you and Wren have a good time catching up?”

She wanted to say, Duh, yeah, instead Zia was polite spouting out a pleasant “Yeah, it was good to catch-up.”

For the first time since coming in here, she hadn’t noticed the window and the blinds. They blocked out the night from seeping into the room, but it was there. Her body resisted the undying tug of what the night could torment her with. Stronger than the new nightly normal was her desire to conquer it.

The night. That damned nemesis waited with patient focus.

Added to her desire to connect with Greg through touch was her incessant need to be protected and shielded from the darkness night brought. Greg followed her line of sight to the window.

“There’s a rare occurrence happening tonight. For some, it’ll be a once in a lifetime event.”

Fear of what he referenced had her body stiffen. “What’s happening?”

Another look over to the closed blinds of the window before he spoke ratcheted up Zia’s fears even more. “Tonight, there’s a super blue blood moon.”

“What’s that? Sounds like a Sci-Fi special’s end-of-the-world made up name for disaster.”

“No, it’s real. Means the moon has triple duty tonight.” She liked how he perked up to explain the moon phenomenon. “Let’s take them one by one. Supermoons occur when the full moon is at its closest point to earth. They occur when the moon is in its elliptical orbit during a full phase.”

Although he’d already lost her with that part, Zia nodded encouragement to continue. She loved the bright smile he flashed.

“Speaking of full moons, when a full moon happens twice in one month the second one is a blue moon. The blue part is a bit misleading. The blood moon does get its name from its appearance. It’s a full lunar eclipse where the moon moves completely into earth’s dark shadow. The effect is a red pallor or tint of the moon’s natural glow.”

What could she say to that thorough explanation except, “Got it.” Zia wanted no parts of a rare moon. Parts of her family were known to worship it and do strange things. Things that were formidable enough to scare her mother into never visiting them.

He must have sensed her less than excited reaction to a superhero red moon.

Slight and quick, he gave her a nod, and said, “It’s late. I’ll grab a few things from the bathroom and be out of your way. If you need anything before going to bed, I’ll be in the front room.”

He took a few steps to stand before her. Again, her mouth moved like a guppy gasping for air. When he came to rest before her, mere inches from touching her bent knees, Zia’s tricky breath caught in her throat. The damn air refused to release with him standing so close. She sat there, oxygen-starved but unable to resume normal breathing. Greg fished in the back pocket of his jeans to pull out a scrap of paper.

“Here.” He handed the folded paper to her. “This is the passcode for you to get online if you want to. I forgot to give it to you earlier.”

“Oh.” The disappointment was enough to invite her air passageways to resume their normal rhythm. Deflated and back in the throes of mooning over an aloof Greg, Zia resolved to get this over with and go to bed.

She took a few beats to steady her hand before reaching out to take the paper from him. Satisfied that her hand didn't shake too much, Zia looked at the line of characters. They flowed in a masculine but clear penmanship.

“Thank you. That was very thoughtful,” was all she was able to muster.

For a whisper of a moment, Zia thought she saw his eyes flicker with what could be best described as excitement. Nah, couldn’t be that he was into anything she said.

She pushed past the desperate hope of something, anything to show he had any desire for her. Zia nodded, refolded the paper as she palmed it.

“All right then, I’ll get out of your way.”

She watched as the golden giant moved through the room to the bathroom. His way was swift, quiet and graceful as he closed the door to the bathroom.

When sounds of shower water crept into the bedroom, Zia allowed herself to take a deep breath. The soft cry that came helped to relieve pressure, but only a little. This would be a long night. She hoped it would be better to her than most of her recent ones.

Let this be a good night, please.

Zia sat on the bed clutching her travel night kit. The silent prayer for sleeping mercy whizzed around her head. She fished in her bag. When her hands closed around the little plastic bottle, she almost yipped in relief. Quick as not to make Greg think any worse of her, Zia opened the pill bottle.

She popped one of the sleeping pills her therapist had given for nights when she thought it would be bad. Forcing the medicinal symbol of hope down without the aid of water, she waited for the lump to pass. The pill had to work magic and come through for her tonight. If it didn’t work, Zia might be put out of here before morning.

The shower shut off behind the closed door to the bathroom. She doubled down to keep a strong set of determination on her face. It was time to get ready for bed. Greg would be close, but would that be enough to keep the night at bay?