That’s why it catches me off guard when he asks, “Did I ruin your date?”
“It wasn’t a date,” I insist, shaking my head at myself for even entertaining the idea of Miles as dating material a couple of weeks ago. “At least to me, it wasn’t. Anyway, it was doomed before it started, so Jamie will thank you for that,” I joke. “Silver lining. See?”
I swear he snorts. I don’t care if it’s not actually a laugh and is at my expense, I’ll take it.
“And what does Jamie think ofme?”
Screwing up my face, I walk back to the deck railing to work on standing planks again. “Why don’t we get back to the stretches?”
This time his snort is different from the last one. Look at me, fluent inSnort. I’m learning things about him already.
“Does he like anyone?”
“Me…sometimes.”
He joins me at the railing and copies my stance. When he says nothing more, my mind begins to wander. Am I keeping him from anything? It’s still baffling to me that the man whose attention I felt lucky to hold for brief moments at a time is spending part of his weekend with me without intimacy involved. Is this what pushing forty and neither hooking up nor dating look like? If so, I can’t say I hate it.
“You know, you’re not going to fix me.”
The subdued warning surprises me. Face half hidden by his arm, I only catch a fraction of his expression. It’s not defeat exactly, more so acceptance.
Straightening up, I nod and motion for him to do the same. It seems like a good place to stop today.
“Wecan’tfix you,” I agree. “But we can make you feel less pain and allow you to sit at the games more comfortably when you’re reporting. Sleep a little better at night, hopefully.”
Holding my breath, I wait for his reaction. I wonder if I’ll ever stop looking at him like it’s the last time I’ll see him.
“That’s more than I could ever hope for.” The corner of his mouth ticks up for a second. The double meaning in that almost-smile softens my heart. I think I just got an apology that I didn’t even need.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“See you tomorrow.” He nods and picks up his bag of broken coffee mug pieces.
I watch him walk through my weeds around the back of the house until he’s out of sight. And for the first time, I’m not afraid it’s the last I’ll see of him.
CHAPTER 11
Chris
The Sunday morning sun peeks out through the clouds as I walk up Remy’s steps and knock on his door. Time for a second round of humility, because apparently, I’m a masochist. I hear the rapid thumping of footsteps, and the door opens, bringing another ray of sunshine. How does he always look so alive? Like he’s breathing life into the universe and not the other way around?
“Chris! Hey.”
“You still on for…working out?”
The words sound foreign as soon as they leave my lips. What we did yesterday didn’t feel like a workout. Grandmothers in retirement homes get more exertion with their walkers than I did, but after coming up short on how to exonerate myself from being the guy who used to crawl in through his window for a quick fuck, this is all I’ve got. Stretching my muscles won’t make me a better man. I’m well aware. Scaring the crap out of him yesterday and making him break his coffee mug felt like a cryptic omen that this sophomoric crush I’ve been harboring is doomed no matter what. I can’t be better, and all pursuing Remy will do is break him, despite how much I don’t want that to happen.
So, why am I here? Well, I guess crushes take a while to die. And maybe, just maybe, if I don’t screw this up, I can have him in my life. At least like this. Also, it’s a bonus that our morning hourtogether will be that much less time he has to meet jerks who are as wrong for him as I am.
“Yeah, absolutely. Come on in.”
I’m a little disappointed not to see him in sleep pants with bedhead again, but that’s probably for the best. Stepping over the threshold, I pause once inside at the sight of a new decoration I don’t remember seeing yesterday. I point at the skeleton on a stand next to the hall tree, where some jackets are hanging.
“Helooks familiar.”
“Wow! You actually remember Norman?” He laughs, patting the skeleton’s shoulder and adjusting a small top hat on its head.
Of course, I remember. Norman isn’t just bones. He’s got a full musculoskeletal system and used to stand in the corner of Remy’s room. I’m not about to bring up that I thought his exposed eyes always made him look like he was shocked by what we used to do in Remy’s bed. It looks like Normanstillremembers. Oh, Norm, I feel your pain.
