Page 12 of Shot on Goal at a Second Chance (Midlife Meet Cute #6)

Zach

Would I call showing up at Rebecca’s door impulsive? Definitely.

Showing up with a bottle of champagne and her favorite dessert? That might qualify as a full-blown moment of temporary insanity. At least, I hope custard-filled donuts are still her favorite. After I made sure she got home safely, I went on a mission to find them.

The lights were still on at the local bakery—apparently, the owner was teaching a late-night baking class. I knocked. Turns out they were learning the art of donut-making, and the owner had custard chilling in the fridge. Talk about fate.

By the time I walked out, the entire group was cheering for me.

No pressure or anything. Just a room full of strangers invested in my love life—our love life. I may have to steer Rebecca clear of Bake My Day so we don’t end up on the menu as the dessert special.

Now, standing in front of her door, my heart’s pounding harder than the deciding game in a playoff series. I’ve knocked twice, and I think I heard voices after the second one.

What if she’s not alone? The thought of her with someone else—

I’m saved from going any further by the sound of the doorknob turning. The door cracks open, and there she is.

She’s wearing one of those soft lounging sets—matching top and shorts in a pale, buttery fabric that probably feels as soft as a cloud. Her hair’s up, her feet are bare, and she looks like home and heartbreak all at once.

“Zach?”

I lift the box. “I thought we could celebrate.”

She glances over her shoulder. “I’m…kind of busy.”

My stomach shakes hands with my shoes. She’s not alone. The realization sends blazing heat up the back of my neck. I never asked her if she was seeing anyone. Just assumed she wasn’t.

A voice similar to Rebecca’s filters out from her phone. “No, she’s not. We were just hanging up.”

Rebecca’s cheeks turn the most delightful shade of pink, and she mutters, “Traitor.”

“Call me tomorrow, Becks. Love you,” the voice singsongs.

“Love you, too.” Her hand holding the phone drops to her side as she sighs. “Guess I’m not busy after all. Come in.”

I walk inside her condo, appreciating the beige tones and clean lines as I go deeper into the living space.

When I changed clothes here before our stroll on the beach, I only went as far as the half-bathroom near the entryway.

Splashes of color stand out as I scan the room.

Abstract art fills the wall opposite the couch where most people would put a TV.

Bright green and teal accent pillows dot the couch with a matching throw over the back cushions of the sofa.

The homey feel of the place kicks my instincts in, causing me to take a deep, settling breath, filling my nose with her musky vanilla scent.

Before heading toward the kitchen, she gestures to the couch, where some of the pillows are smushed into the corner, creating a cozy spot, and a glass of wine sits on the coffee table. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get some glasses.”

I put the donut box by her wine, then untwist the wire around the bottleneck. “Was that Kayla?”

Her lips part ever so slightly as she walks toward me, two champagne glasses in one hand and plates and napkins in the other. “You remember my sister?”

“I do.” I push on the cork, which pops almost immediately, and then pour the frothing liquid into the first glass. My eyes flicker to hers. “I remember a lot of things, Becks.”

Her gaze drops to my mouth, which is kind of ironic, considering I can’t stop staring at hers, especially since she tucked her lips in, moistening them.

After filling the glasses, I take one and clink it against the glass she’s still holding. “To new beginnings.”

She raises a brow at me as if to ask what I’m implying, then sits on the couch, folding her legs behind her. I don’t answer because I prefer not to label whatever’s forming between us—yet. Perhaps it’s just a business alliance, and all we’re celebrating is today’s victory.

For me, it’s much more. But I want her to reach that point on her own. So, for now, it’s easier to let her draw her own conclusions. Interestingly, the confident Rebecca I watched and admired all day appears nervous and somewhat flustered.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy seeing her this way. Don’t get me wrong. I find the unflappable version of her very attractive, but this vulnerable side? That tells me she still feels something for me.

“You were right about Gabe.” She stares into her glass, avoiding my gaze.

I wish she’d look at me so I could see what’s brewing behind those gray-blue eyes of hers. “Gabe can be reserved, but I could tell he’s excited about working with you and the team.”

She takes a sip of champagne. “His wife, Olivia, is adorable. And one of their kids is the same age as my niece.”

“You have a niece?”

Her features reflect a tenderness. “Quinn’s ten and wants to come spend the day with me at work for her birthday.”

I give her an approving look. “Impressive.”

After setting my glass down, I grab a plate and put a donut on it.

She waves it off. “I don’t really eat do—”

I put the plate in front of her so she can see what she’s missing. “Are you sure?”

Her gaze flicks up to mine. “Is that—?”

“Custard?” I nod. “Still your favorite?”

“Maybe.” She runs her tongue over her lips, driving me so crazy I have to look away. I nab a donut for myself and settle onto the couch next to her.

After taking a bite, she lets out a soft moan. “These are amazing.”

“I piped in the custard myself.”

Her eyes widen as she stares at me. “You’re kidding, right?”

I chuckle. “No, actually. I’m not. I interrupted the owner teaching a class on making Berliners, which are typically filled with raspberry. But she had custard in the fridge. I asked if I could do the honors.”

She laughs. “Why?”

I lift a shoulder. “Curiosity. Or I wanted to make sure they didn’t skimp on the part you like the best.”

“Because there should be custard in—”

“Every bite,” I say, finishing her sentence.

Because I remember.

From the look on her face, she’s almost shocked.

“I remember, Becks. All of it.” I tap the side of my head. “I revisited those memories a lot, especially after my sister died.”

With her donut only half eaten, she sets the plate on the coffee table. “So, were the memories enough for you?”

The hint of sarcasm in her voice puts me on edge. “If I’m going to be honest, no.”

The temptation to tell her the truth rises up and nearly smacks me in the face.

But I still can’t bring myself to say anything negative about her father, even though his words felt like a rejection.

The man I respected not only as my coach but as a father figure basically told me I wasn’t good enough for his daughter.

Rebecca stares at me as if she’s waiting for me to tell her why I disappeared from her life. That’s when I notice a small splotch of custard on the corner of her mouth.

Without thinking, I reach out and wipe it away with my thumb, but as soon as my fingers brush her skin, my brain checks out.

I don’t even remember leaning in. Just the feel of her lips against mine, the taste of sweet custard mingling between us as our tongues dance together, and her musky scent reminding me of one of the happiest times in my life.

I don’t know how long we kiss because I’m so lost in the feel and taste of her. Time can take a flying leap for all I care. Because all that matters right now is this moment and having Rebecca back in my arms again.

As our kiss slows, doubts creep in. More like unanswered questions.

We lost a lot of years. And maybe, if I’d fought harder for her, we’d have wound up together. Maybe not. But right now, I want to know if she wants this—a second chance—as much as I do before we go any further.

“Rebecca.” Her name sounds more like a growl than a whisper.

A smile plays at her lips at my pause. “Zach.”

Her gaze lingers on my mouth—she wants me to continue kissing her. And I want to—and more—but not until we clear up the past.

“We should talk.” I wait for her to look up.

“Why? Do you have a secret girlfriend you haven’t told me about?” Her tone is teasing, but I don’t miss the flash of fear in her expression.

“No, of course not.” I rake a hand through my hair.

“Then what is it?” Her eyes dart back and forth as she searches my face for the answer.

Like a promise of more to come, I kiss the tip of her nose. “I want to do this right this time, but if you don’t feel the same—

She puts a finger over my lips. “We just reconnected, Zach. Don’t you think it’s a little soon to talk about the future?”

I let myself drown in her blue eyes, struggling with whether to tell her I wanted to marry her back then and that after all the years that have passed, I can still picture a life with her. “No. Not when it comes to you.”

“Oh.” Her smile slips, and then she swallows. “I’m still wrapping my head around you being here. You took me by surprise.”

“A good surprise, I hope.” The doubt I see in her eyes guts me because I know it’s my fault.

She nods. “Yes, but…”

“What do you want, Becks?” I’m probably pushing again, but I need her to say it’s me she wants.

“Time?”

Not the answer I’d hoped for, but it’s something I can give her. I want to say more and lay it all out, but now’s not the right time.

So instead, I just nod, then kiss her again—slow and tender, like a promise I’m not ready to speak aloud.

And when I pull back, I whisper the only thing I know for sure.

“I’m not going anywhere.”