I sit down on the couch and he takes the seat at the other end, angling his body toward me while flipping his arm over the back cushion casually.

“Randall called this morning. He’s anxious for us to come out so you can meet. I’d like to book us a flight out of here tomorrow.”

I expect a fight out of Zach because he has been vocal all along about his distaste of Randall Cannon. While I think he’s forgiven me for my role in our transgressions against him, he’s still harboring a world of bitter feelings against his godfather.

“How long will we be staying there?”

I shrug my shoulders. “I’m not sure. Maybe just a few days. I know he’s eager to get to know you.”

“Yet I don’t want to get to know him,” he says.

“I know,” I say with a frustrated sigh. “So, let’s plan on two days, and then we can come back if you want.”

“Fine,” Zach says and starts to stand from the couch.

“Wait a minute,” I say desperately because I can’t stand the cold shoulder I’ve been getting. I miss the easy humor that had started appearing within Zach not long ago, and I miss his innocent curiosity about things. I miss just talking to him, and I’m dying for something here. “Are you mad at me… because I wouldn’t do as you asked the other day?”

Zach flops back down on the cushion and scrubs his hands through his hair. He turns to look at me, “No, I’m not mad. Frustrated, but not mad.”

“I’m sorry,” I tell him honestly. “I’m not being contrary. I just… I’m built differently from the women you’re used to, and I just can’t submit to your demands all the time.”

“I know, Moira,” Zach says quietly… a bit sadly. “I think that was just a good reminder that I don’t belong in this place. The way you are… so confident and sure of yourself. You want certain things, and you know what’s best for you. You don’t need a man… not really. It’s hard for me to accept.”

My heart sinks over his words because I recognize the finality in his tone. I want to argue and rage against what he’s saying. I want to tell him to try something new, to give it a chance. But I can’t go there. It would be me arguing for something that I want personally, not what is best for Zach. I’m not here to change him, only to help him understand things. It sounds to me that he understands the way of things well enough though, and that means I need to leave it alone.

“Look,” Zach says, standing from the couch again. “I’m going to go get packed up. Just let me know when we’re leaving, and I’ll be ready.”

“Okay,” I murmur, feeling the desperate need to latch onto further conversation, but realizing in my heart, there isn’t anything more to say.

The plane trip to Atlanta is uneventful and after a twenty-minute cab ride, we are finally pulling into an immensely long driveway bordered by stately oak trees. It winds along for a good quarter mile, and then we round a bend, revealing a massive Tudor-style mansion. It sprawls on forever with steeply pitched roofs, half-timbered panels inlaid with herringbone brickwork, a sprawling porch that could hold about a hundred people, and tall, mullioned windows that reflect the early afternoon sun.

The cabbie pulls up in a large, circular driveway, and the front door immediately opens as we get out of the car. I see Randall walking down the front steps, looking fit in a pair of pressed khaki shorts, a white polo shirt, and brown loafers. He’s followed by a man in about his forties, wearing a pair of black slacks and a white dress shirt.

“Sam… get their bags and bring them up to their rooms,” Randall says to the man, who doesn’t cut us a glance but does as he’s told.

“There you are,” Randall says in welcome, and I can feel Zach tense up beside me. Randall’s eyes drink in every bit of Zach, starting from his head and working down. When his eyes come back up, I can tell he’s a bit taken aback at the icy look on Zach’s face. Randall turns to me, and says, “It’s lovely to see you again, Moira.”

I shake his hand and turn to Zach. “Randall… this is Zach Easton.”

Randall beams and holds his hand out to Zach, who reluctantly but politely takes it. “Of course, this is Zach. He looks just like he did when he was a little boy. Welcome, Zach. Welcome to my home, and I want you to feel like this is your own home.”

Zach grimaces and doesn’t say a word. Randall releases his hand, and the silence gets a little awkward.

“Yes… well, come in. I’m sure you’re tired from your travels. I’ll have Sam show you to your rooms, and we’ll plan on doing dinner around seven tonight. Zach… I have a lot of pictures of your parents I’d love to show you, and of course, I want to get to know you all over again.”

Zach still doesn’t respond, so I jump in. “That sounds like a great plan, Randall. I’m sure we could use a bit of a rest before dinner, right Zach?”

“Sure,” is all he says, and we follow Randall into the house.

We step into a marbled foyer with twin, curving staircases that lead up to the second floor. The walls are paneled in a rich mahogany and studded with expensive-looking oil paintings. A large, round table sits in the middle of the foyer with a fresh flower arrangement of stargazer lilies that has to stretch upward at least four feet and fills the air with their heavy perfume.

“Sam… could you show Zach to his room? I’d like a word with Moira for a moment.”