Strut the Mall (Love at Westbrook Mall #4)

37. A Woman of Accommodating Morals

37

A Woman of Accommodating Morals

I clasped my phone between my hands and braced myself for Zack's answer.

“I…don’t know if I’m okay with that,” he managed.

I rubbed my phone, hoping a genie would fly out and grant a miracle.

He frowned and tugged his ear. “I like you. I’m not sure that’s enough, though.”

My heart sank. If only he could compartmentalize that side of my life. I did.

How could I reframe this?

I could show Zack my messages, even if I didn’t fully want to betray my clients’ confidence. They were still anonymous. It wasn’t like I was giving him names and addresses. Hopefully, it’d give him some relief instead of activating some misplaced jealousy. But I wasn’t sure how to approach this, how to reassure him I’d be responsible with his heart and our lives together.

“I’m still the same person,” I said, edging toward him. “I can modify how I respond to some of their messages, if you’re uncomfortable with that aspect of it.”

“Of course I’m uncomfortable with it,” he said.

Why’d he sound so incredulous? Theo had no problem with any of this. Hell, he encouraged it.

“Bartenders flirt for tips. It’s not that big of a difference,” I said. “They listen to people’s problems too. Think of me as a bartender of feet pics.”

He shook his head. “I’m trying to leave the bar creeps behind, Nic. You’re drawing them in, back into my orbit. Worse, you’re flirting with them.”

“They know I’m not interested,” I said.

“Do they? Because I thought you’d never be into me, either, but every time you laughed or sassed me back…every time we touched,” his voice cracked, “I knew it was supposed to be fake. I fell for you anyway.”

I squeezed his knee, hoping he’d look up at me again.

For once, the quarterback needed my strength, and I planned on giving it to him.

“I fell for you too, Zack. I know I wasn’t supposed to. But you make me feel like even when I’m at my worst, I’m somebody worth loving. Protecting. Even celebrating.” I smiled at the memory of him strumming along to my cringe-worthy singing and hoisting my feisty butt out of the bar on New Year’s Eve. If he loved those sides of me, he could love all of me.

Zack let out a miserable sigh. “You are. But how am I supposed to reconcile you chatting up other guys? How can I show my face to my family?”

“What do you mean? They’ve already met me. They loved me.”

Zack looked away. “They’ll know something’s wrong. Somehow, they’ll find out about it, and they’ll think…I don’t know, that I’m a cuck if I go along with it. That neither of us have any self-respect.”

“That sounds kinda judgmental.” Would they actually think that, or was that his opinion?

"I know it's just a job to you. But my family was disappointed when I got a job at the bar. I can only imagine what they'd think if I was fine with you needing to hit up other men, especially if I encouraged it." His nostrils flared. “I’m supposed to set a good example.”

“You are,” I insisted.

“No, I dropped out of college, I lost my scholarship, and have only had crap jobs since then. I had to arrange for a girlfriend—one who has arrangements with other men.” He hunched over his knees. “I’m such an idiot. I failed them in every single way.”

“No one’s asking you to be perfect. And our relationship isn’t a failure if there’s love and respect in it. We just started kinda unconventional. We’re making our own path.” I patted his shoulder. “It’s brave to go for what you want, even if you think people might not like it.”

He looked up, pale and weary. “May wants to be just like you. She’s been begging her mom to make her a studded leather jacket.”

I shrugged. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nic.” He gave me a hard look, like it was so obvious.

He didn’t want his little cousin to grow up and sell feet pics.

I narrowed my eyes. “I’m not a bad person.”

“I know.”

I crossed my arms. “So what’s the problem? She liked my jacket. I’m not going to encourage her to join the app.”

“She’s just a kid. I don’t want her to be influenced—”

“By my career?” I rolled my eyes. “We’re not her parents. And she’s going to have friends and internet access to form her own opinions about stuff. Teach her how to make safe choices, if you're that concerned. Don’t go to random guy’s apartments for free ‘portfolio shots.’ But what I do in private won’t change how she turns out. As she grows up, I’m sure she’ll find some other influencer to be her role model, and I’ll go back to being her cousin’s girlfriend, wife, or whatever I am by then.” ‘Ex’ was also an option, but I didn’t care to think about that at the moment.

A flush crept up the back of his neck. “I don’t know, Nic. Maybe we don’t have the same values,” he said.

Values.

Like family, finances, and popularity.

Of course, he could’ve meant actual quality of being, or that my morals were far more accommodating. There were so many reasons not to be with me.

I was too quiet in high school. Too bold now.

Still, he fell for me.

So why did he still need to be convinced to take a chance on love?

My insides hardened to plastic as something ugly tangled in my chest, despair knotting worse than sheets in the wash.

It didn’t matter how fun I was, how beautiful, or how helpful.

I was never going to be good enough for the quarterback.

I shook my head and sniffed. The lower half of my vision blurred. “One day, you’ll love someone enough that you won’t care what your family thinks. But it’s not me, apparently.” I flashed him an approximation of my customer service smile.

That’s what he wanted to be, right? Just someone I had an arrangement with. It was easier to put him in that compartment than pretend we could be friends after this.

He trembled, his face wrinkled with worry. “Nic…”

“Don’t worry. One day, I’ll love someone who doesn’t judge me. Or use me. One day, he’ll be my family. Until then, I’ll keep it classy.” I raised my phone and pinky.

At least one good thing had come from this.

I’d finally figured out my branding.