Zoe's call the next day confirmed his suspicions, as did her ice-cold tone. He didn't get to go past her name and into the general pleasantries before she had summoned him for a cup of coffee, face to face. Refusal wasn't an option.
Josh had been prepared for fury, after Dan's reaction; what he hadn't been prepared for was the look of deep disappointment in her eyes when she finally showed up, ten minutes late. He tried to open his mouth but was silenced with a look. The queue to order their coffees moved at a glacial pace; when they managed to sit across one another to begin their conversation, Josh didn't know whether to feel relieved or apprehensive.
"So?" Again, there was no anger in her soft, wounded voice; that cut most of all. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
"I..." He swallowed. Couldn't she just tell him to go fuck himself as Dan had and walk out? He'd fucked up, yes, and he regretted it, but nothing he'd say would make a difference. What was the point in this conversation? A form of retribution, perhaps? "I was trying to help."
Her eyes narrowed, hardening. He didn't know what she'd expected of him, but that had been the wrong thing to say. "You were trying to help," she repeated, voice flat. Her coffee cup was clutched tightly in both her hands, but she hadn't taken a single sip.
"Yes. I mean, Dan was right there, and you guys... The last time we talked, you sounded so wistful..."
"The last time we talked, I told you Dan and I wouldn't work. I didn't mince words. Did you think that was an invitation to prod him to go get me?"
The next time Mark told him he ought to let people in he could cite this prime example that he screwed stuff up beyond recognition and everyone was better off when he didn't let people in. He burned his tongue on his mochaccino in an attempt to stall; in the futile hope a better answer would present itself.
It didn't work.
"I guess I thought you wouldn't know it until you tried it." It sounded weak to his own ears. "And, honestly, I think he thinks that too."
She exhaled, blowing on her coffee. "Dan is a wonderful man. He'd try anything if he thought there was the slightest chance of it working — he'd stick his head in a lion's mouth to try and help it with a toothache, on the off-chance the lion didn't think he was an afternoon snack. I told you I knew what I was doing, but you couldn't respect that."
Josh felt small. More than that, he felt sad. This was why he didn't do friendships, other than Mark, who got him on such an instinctive level there was little room for screw ups of this magnitude. He wasn't cut out for caring what happened to people without driving them away. But she still deserved her answer. "It wasn't that I didn't respect it—"
"Yes." Still no intonation. "It was. It was exactly that. Because of you I've had to have a conversation with him that hurts him, that hurts me, and I'd had it once already. How would you feel if I decided I knew best and went behind your back to tell Emery to go get you? I respected your situation was complicated. You didn't respect mine. Worse than that, you betrayed my trust."
Alright. Yes. He hadn't thought about it in those terms at the time, but it'd been a betrayal. "You're right. For what it's worth, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done it."
Zoe nodded, her knuckles relaxing around the coffee cup. She sounded tired when she said,"No, you shouldn't have. I could have explained to you exactly why it wouldn't work between Dan and I that day but, a) I shouldn't have to explain myself to you to have you respect me, and b) I didn't trust you enough yet to know you wouldn't blurt out something you shouldn't. I guess my instincts were right." For the first time her eyes fell away from his to gaze out the window. "We're done here," she added when he made no move to leave.
She was right, and Josh had nothing else to offer in this situation. The conversation had dragged on long enough as it was. The only thing that was left was to give her space, even if it cost him something. "I'll stop coming to game night." He could be with Mark any other day of the week, and he'd been the one to cause this. It was only fair.
Josh was about to get up when she whipped her head to face him, lips parted in an astonished O. "Are you serious right now? You fuck up and your response is that you'll stop coming to game night?"
"Er... Yes? Isn't that better?"
She tilted her head, features softening. "Josh — did you just decide I was done with you?"
What else was there? "You said I hurt you. That I betrayed you."
"You did, and I don't really want to look at your face right now, but that doesn't mean I won't forgive you sooner or later." A pause, as she looked at his uncomprehending expression. "I mean, if you're interested in that. If you work for it. Now get out of my face — I'll see you next Thursday."
She'd forgive him? They hadn't even gotten to a point where they could be considered friends, but she was still willing to open herself to the possibility of him messing stuff up for her again? It was a strange thing to contemplate. Stranger still was the unfamiliar wave of hopeful relief that washed through him out of nowhere, chasing away the sadness.
Josh had been in the wrong, but he'd get another chance. If he worked for it.
He could do that.