I couldn’t be more surprised than if he’d suggested we go back to Vegas and tie the knot again. I can’t even form a response. Though plenty of questions spring to mind. Namely: Whaaaaat? Why? Are you fucking with me?
Whatever expression my face is responsible for, it leads him to keep reasoning the situation out.
“I have the space and the comfy bed and if anyone gets nosey, it’s a hell of a lot more convincing that we’re married if we’re living together.”
“Wearemarried,” I throw his words back at him.
“Think about it. You’d save on rent, but still be close to the gym. I’m clean and I don’t snore. And I travel a lot with the team, so you’ll basically have the place to yourself a lot of the time.”
“I can’t move in with you.” A weak counterargument, yes, but it’s all I manage to get out. The idea is ludicrous. Absolutely absurd. Not happening. No way.
“Why not?”
“Because…” I blame the cold seeping into my bones for my inability to come up with a single good reason that will satisfy him.
“Afraid you won’t be able to keep your hands off me if I’m wandering around shirtless all the time?” he asks with a wink.
My tone is purposely dry and monotone. “I thought I was going to have the place to myself most of the time?”
“Some of the time,” he corrects.
I must be well and truly at my lowest point because I find myself considering it. Deflecting is my only course of action. “You’re going to get frostbite on your nipples.”
He chuckles and brings his hands up to rub together in front of him. The movement makes his pecs jump around and his biceps flex. “Come on. I know it’ll help you out and I like having you around. It’s a win-win.”
Oh god, I’m going to regret this for sure.
I don’t see Travis much during the first week of living together.
On day one, all my possessions are mysteriously moved from next door to my new room at his place (our place?!) before I get home from the gym. And the fridge is stocked with food, including many of my favorites.
On day two, coffee and pastries are waiting in the kitchen again when I wake up, but Travis is already gone. He has a game in St. Louis and doesn’t get back until well after I’ve gone to bed.
The time to myself to settle in should be comforting, but the evidence of his presence is everywhere. His smell, his stuff, and the lingering butterflies in my stomach at the thought of running into him at any moment.
On Friday, he texts me while I’m between visualization therapy and dance strength training.
Travis
Is it okay if I have someone over tonight?
I tap out a reply to say yes, of course, because it’s his house and I’m not even sure why he’s asking, but then it occurs to me, he’s talking about a date. Travis isn’t asking to have friends over. He’s asking about a woman. I should have seen this coming. Sure, we said we wouldn’t date other people, but he’s a hot, fun guy and we’re only pretending.
I want to take it back and tell him that isn’t what we agreed to, but he’s been so generous that I can’t bring myself to do anything except avoid home.
It’s only when my stomach is rumbling so loud I can’t hear the music for my floor routine over it that I give up and head home.
Only Travis’s Range Rover is in the driveway when I get there. The lights are on inside, but I can’t see anything or anyone as I walk up the front. I’m going to go inside, smile politely, and rush upstairs to my room. No big deal. It’s basically like any other night.
I brace myself as I turn the handle and push inside. The TV is on but that’s the only noise as I shut the door quietly and tiptoe toward the stairs. I almost make it past him undetected, but Travis stands from the couch in the world’s worst timing.
“I’m going to grab some more pizza rolls. You want any?” he asks his visitor.
I freeze like a statue, hoping he won’t notice me. Which of course doesn’t work.
“H.W.!” Travis calls out to me. “You’re home.”
His dark hair is covered with a backward white hat, and he’s in what I’m starting to think of as his usual attire – athletic pants and a T-shirt. Not what I expected for a date night, but he looks good. Really good. Homey, casual and comfortable looks good on him.
