As I walk away, I feel his eyes on me. The knowledge sends a thrill through me—excitement Scott never gave me.
For once, I feel fully inside my own body instead of apologizing for it. Desired. Powerful. Alive.
The day becomes a dance of escalating attraction. At the stables, I make sure to dismount in a way that requires his steadying hand.
“Careful,” he murmurs, not removing his hands right away.
“Thanks for the save.”
“Always.”
The single word lands too heavily. Something dangerous coils in my stomach. I remind myself this is just attraction, not a future. Red flags wave, but I shove them down.
Evening finds me in my room with my laptop, reviewing the budget I’d just completed for a mock nonprofit proposal. The numbers balanced perfectly, every line item justified, every calculation precise. This was done entirely on my own—no help, no second-guessing, just my brain working exactly as it should.
I give myself a mental high-five—another example of my personal growth. Validation comes from me now, not borrowed from anyone else.
My phone buzzes with a text from Ava:How’s the gladiator situation?
What gladiator situation?I type back, though if we were FaceTiming, my expression would probably give me away.
Mom…
Fine. Maybe there is a situation.
DETAILS. NOW.
Instead of typing a response, I call her. She picks up on the first ring, her face appearing on screen with an expression of gleeful anticipation.
“Spill everything.”
“There’s nothing to spill yet. But I may have… expressed some interest today.”
“You what?” Her voice goes up an octave. “Mom, you’re actually flirting with a gladiator?”
“I’m testing the waters. Seeing if he’s interested.”
Ava squeals, clapping a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God, Mom. You’re actually doing this.”
“Don’t make it sound so outrageous,” I mutter, though even I can’t pull off the casual tone I’m going for.
“And?”
I think about the way his hands lingered on my skin, the way his breathing changed when I stood close, the heat in his eyes when I held his gaze a beat too long.
“I think he might be.”
“This is amazing! What’s he like?”
“Competent. Quiet. He fixes things.” I pause, trying to find words for the complexity I’ve discovered beneath his practical exterior. “He’s… different. Not what I expected.”
“Good different or concerning different?”
“Good different.Verygood different.” The memory of his midnight singing surfaces, but that feels too private to share, even with Ava. “He makes me feel… capable. Like he sees me as an equal, not someone who needs managing.”
“That’s huge, Mom. That’s the difference between Dad and an actual partner.”
After we hang up, I sit with Ava’s words. Partnership versus management. Choice versus control. The difference between being seen as a problem to be solved and a person to be valued.
