Over the next several days, I became increasingly confused about Natalie’s behavior. We saw each other almost every day,if not for her two weekly sessions, then because we passed each other at the gym and stopped to talk for a quick moment. But while my initial goal had been to test the waters and see if she’d warmed up to me enough, now I was just trying to figure out her latest mood changes. One day, she was happy to see me and eager to chat, only for her to turn into a skittish animal the next day.
She seemed flustered about something, but I wasn’t in a position to dig past casual how-do-you-dos.
Maybe she had a lot going on at work. Since the day she’d received the keys for her studio, I’d seen her in there most nights on my way home from work. The decorative, wooden front of the exterior had gone from peeling off-white to a muted dark blue. Glass counters and displays had arrived, along with an old-school cash register that I was fairly sure she’d found in the 1800s. Her elegant logo had appeared on the two shop windows. And just last night, I’d seen her painting the walls in the shop. I’d knocked and offered to help out, because I hadn’t been too happy to see her on an old rickety ladder, but she’d declined and called it a good workout.
Sure, sure, but landing herself in the hospital wasn’t worth it.
It was possible I’d lurked outside until she’d climbed down from the damn thing.
I was seriously considering buying a new ladder and leaving it outside for her.
Another week went by, and whatever warmth and nice weather we’d had in September were long gone. Mid-October brought us nothing but downpours and colder temperatures. But I didn’t mind. I liked fall and winter. The only problem, I reckoned, wasthat the darker seasons made me feel a bit too lonely for my liking. Or maybe it was just Natalie’s fault. I had zero interest in returning to the dating apps, and I had to admit to myself that she wasn’t just some woman I was insanely attracted to. This went beyond wanting a date and a few rounds in the bedroom.
I’d fucking developed feelings for the woman.
It’d hit me like a ton of bricks the other week when I realized how often I thought about her. It was beyond frustrating. If she was down in her studio, I worried she might hurt herself. If I was making dinner, I wondered what it would be like to cook with her. If she was at the gym, I wanted to go over to her and tell her how fucking proud I was of her progress. Her attitude kept impressing me. She was such a fighter. She slipped here and there and tended to beat herself up too much, but she was quick to get back on the horse and keep going.
Recently, I’d introduced her to preplanned indulgences. Once or twice a week, I wanted her to buy something she really loved. Something small, like a little dessert or whatever. It would help her regain control when she could say, “I’m gonna have that on Friday,” rather than, “Fuck my life, I caved yesterday and ate cheesecake.”
Yesterday had been a great day. She’d come down to the gym with a gorgeous smile and a T-shirt that sat loose on her. I’d obviously wanted to hug the shit out of her, but I’d settled for a PT-friendly high five.
That was all I was. Her trainer.
Trainers weren’t allowed to ask what made her smile at her phone, if she’d met someone, or if she was still mourning her dead fiancé.
Instead, I fruitlessly tried to push her to the back of my mind, and I left my office in the basement for lunch with my brother. Ryan was in town again, and we didn’t get to see himoften enough. If you asked me, he should get the fuck out of San Francisco and move back home with his family.
Unlike Darius, Ryan was never late, so he was waiting for me upstairs.
He lifted his brows when he spotted me but didn’t speak until I was closer. “Since when do you wear flannel, little brother?”
Since last week, maybe.
“An identity crisis sometimes comes with a wardrobe change.” We bumped fists, and I made sure I had my wallet in the back pocket of my jeans. “On the days I don’t work out, I figured I don’t always have to wear gym clothes.”
He frowned as we walked out, and he zipped up his leather jacket. “I’m more concerned about this identity crisis. You okay?”
I nodded with a dip of my chin. “I’m getting there.”
My brothers and I were all known for giving one another shit, but when push came to shove, we could listen and be helpful too. That said, Ryan was a fuckload easier to talk to than Darius. Ryan was open and understanding, where Darius was set in his ways.
“Could this have anything to do with your new Instagram videos?” he asked. “I liked the one where you fixed the leak in Lias’s roof. That’s solid exercise.”
I side-eyed him. He’d seen those?
“I thought you followed me on there because Ma smacked you on the arm and told you to be supportive.”
He let out a laugh. “That sounds like somethin’ she’d say to Darius.”
That was literally the case.
Damn, it was getting cold. But I hadn’t bothered with a jacket. We were just going up the street for subs.
“Believe it or not, but I actually give a damn,” Ryan said. “It’s possible Gray lit a fire under my ass. I swear that kid is all abs.”
Yeah, but he was also twenty years younger than us.
“I follow your ten weekly reminders,” he added. “Tell me how proud you are now. Drink your water, don’t drink your calories, get your sleep, lift four times a week, try to eat beans or legumes every day, cardio is for your heart, white carbs only occasionally, half the plate with greens, try to eat thirty different kinds of fruits and vegetables every week, and remove stress factors.” Jesus, he’d learned them all by heart. “I can’t sell my kids, but I did have a big salad with my pizza the other day.”
