“What were you majoring in?”
“Pre-med.”
Her lips turned in a thoughtful, amused sort of smile. “I would never have guessed. Did you like it?”
He shrugged. “It wasn’t bad. I love science. The problem was that I wasn’t interested in anatomy and physiology. I angled my classes and electives toward oceanography and marine biology.”
She didn’t say anything for a long time, and he was expecting her to come back with a softer version of your parents were right, you’ve wasted your life.
“I imagine that had to be miserable for the first few years,” Tessa said. “But they came around once you started winning competitions and doing film and magazine shoots, right?” When he didn’t immediately answer, she said, “You really can’t refute the accomplishment of being the youngest inductee to the Surfers’ Hall of Fame. That had to make your family look at things differently. I mean, you’re still just as successful, just not in a conventional way.”
Zach replayed her words, trying to find the slight he’d expected. And it took him a minute to realize—there hadn’t been one. When he searched her expression, all he found was the open, sweet woman he’d met that first night.
“Unfortunately,” he said, “they were only more disappointed. Instead of seeing it as an achievement, they saw it as a colossal waste. ‘Think of how you could have excelled in life if you’d put your efforts toward something worthwhile,’ they told me. And I get what they’re saying. I mean, I don’t exactly do anything worthwhile, I guess. I’m not furthering the betterment of society in any way.”
He shrugged, turning his gaze back to Sophia, who was now sound asleep, then stroked her soft curls and thought at least not until now.
“That’s not true.” Her words were soft, and her gaze had lowered to watch his hand slide over Sophia’s curls. “Everyone touches the world in some way. Sometimes it’s in ways we can’t see or don’t even understand. Sometimes we make a difference for one person that we don’t even know about, yet that person goes on to do something great. I saw it over and over again at the hospitals where Corinne was treated. Those people—doctors, nurses, technologists, even admin clerks—touched the lives of their patients every day, but they didn’t see the way it rippled through everyone that patient touched. I don’t see it firsthand in my work, but I know it happens. I know the laws I craft help and protect people.”
She shrugged and smiled at Sophia. “Maybe it’s Sophia who’s meant for great things. Maybe your purpose was to create her. Maybe your purpose now is to nurture her. You could be an example to her growing up. She can look at your achievements and know she doesn’t have to live by societal norms. That if she wants to break a world record or even just crash through a glass ceiling, she’ll know it’s possible because of all you did. She’ll know it’s okay to search for her heart’s desire and live fully and happily in any way that fits her. With the way the world changes so fast now, she has unlimited possibilities.”
She lifted her gaze to Zach. “And who knows how many other children or young people you’ve inspired to do the same? It’s not for someone else to judge whether we’re contributing to the world. Only the world knows the real story.”
That was a view he’d never heard. Never even considered. “You have to be a gem in your family crown. An attorney writing law. Hell, you could be the attorney general someday.”
She laughed. “No, thanks. I don’t like politics that much. I deal with them because it’s a necessary evil to get things done. As for family”—her gaze lowered to Sophia—“Sophia is my only family.”
A rock bottomed out in his gut. “What about your parents?”
She shook her head. “My parents died in a car accident. Drunk driver.”
“Oh my God.” His stomach clenched. “How old were you?”
“Ten.” Her expression sobered. “I was in the car with them when it happened.”
“Oh God.”
She shook her head. “I don’t remember anything. I hit my head, was unconscious. I consider that a blessing of sorts. My grandmother did the best she could, but she had diabetes, and I ended up taking care of her more than she took care of me most of the time. She passed away before Sophia was born.”
“I’m so sorry,” he said softly. “Why haven’t you married? Had kids of your own?”
“No time, no money. I worked my way through undergrad and law school. Someone I was dating, someone I thought I might have married someday, bailed when he found out Corinne had cancer. He saw the writing on the wall—that Sophia was my immediate future—and didn’t want to have any part of it. He had bigger aspirations and, evidently, wanted a wife with the same. Those didn’t include Sophia.”
Zach had to bite his tongue not to apologize again—or call the guy an asshole.
“Now, between Sophia and work…” She shrugged, and he thought she’d tell him she didn’t have time, but said, “I have enough.”
Enough. What an odd way to think about life. As if having enough was…well, enough.
But looking at Sophia, sleeping like an angel, Zach wondered if being her father would give him a sense of enough. He was guessing she would. She’d already given him a sense of purpose he hadn’t had just last week.
Tessa’s phone buzzed for the sixth time in the last hour. She sighed and lifted her phone to read the message with a barely muttered “Seriously? It’s called English. If you can’t understand it, you probably shouldn’t be a senator.”
A smile lifted Zach’s lips as he watched her return a text, her fingers lightning fast on the phone. “Senators text you? That’s wild.”
“Not usually,” she said, still typing. “Usually I talk to their staffers, who are—sometimes, but not always—easier to deal with. This particular senator is new and overzealous. Give him six months and he’ll be delegating like he should. Right now, he’s a pain in my ass.”
When she was done, Tessa lowered her phone and slid her gaze back to Zach. This time, he was waiting. And they just held each other’s gaze for long, silent moments infused with Now what?