“Do you have a game to cover Monday night?” he asks.
“No.”
“How about we meet after I get off work instead of in the morning? I can return the dinner favor.”
Dinner wasn’t a favor. He came to my house to check on me and gave me a rubdown. He’s killing me. But dinner with Remy sounds like longer than an hour in the morning. I’m down for any arrangement that gives me more time with him.
“Sure.”
“Great,” he enthuses as I walk him to the door.
Gale prances along beside us and stops at the door like she wants to go with him. I know exactly how she feels. He gives her a scratch behind her ears and then glances around like he isn’t sure what to say either.
“Um, do you want me to come over here or…”
What he said that night outside the Westin might have been metaphorical, but I want to give him what he asked for. “No. I’ll be at your front door.”
The way his lips part and his eyes go glassy ignites a flame of hope in my chest. Maybe I won’t fuck this up. Maybe it’s actually really happening.
I open the door before my luck runs out, and then I plant a quick peck on his cheek because I can’t help myself. Is that something almost forty-year-old men do?
“Goodnight,” he murmurs.
Holding Gale’s collar so she won’t cause any chaos, I watch him make his way down my steps. I hate that he’ll be out of our zip code for five whole days. Anything could happen. A kid like I was could be on the road, thinking they’re coherent and invincible. He could meet a charming man who’s ten times more worthy of him than I am. The possibilities are terrifying. I just found him. I don’t want to lose him again. Does he know how important it is that he comes back?
I need the universe to return him to me so I have more time to get things right. More time to let him know that—
“Remy?”
Already halfway down the path from my door, he stops, turning back. “Yeah?”
I smile sadly, wondering if he can see my heart on my sleeve from there. “Lock your windows.”
The look he gives me isn’t the one he used to give me in college. It’s a thousand times better. He’ll come home.To me.
CHAPTER 16
Chris
Goldilocks must have had as much spinal stenosis and arthritis as I do. That’s the most logical explanation of why she tried out all those beds. Sitting around on my parents’ couch for most of the weekend without my heating pad, stuffing my face, and skipping my new stretching regimen were just the tip of the iceberg for today’s flare-up. It took sheer will fueled by visions of Remy’s excited face to power through the surprise I worked on at his house today while he was at work, but it was worth it. At least, I hope it was. If I could get my ass moving a little faster and get over there, I’ll find out.
I’ve stood under the hot spray of my shower for as long as my water heater allows. Getting out, I grunt while I towel myself off and slip on a change of clothes. I feel like I survived a paintball match, but instead of paintballs, my opponent used shot put balls. Hurricane Fuck My Life is still lingering in the Gulf, not helping matters.
Leaning against my bathroom counter, I tilt my head down and stretch, remembering how Remy said to breathe.Move, Chris, I shout at myself, eager to see his face again.
Tapping the screen of my phone to check the time, I cringe. He’s probably been home from work for almost an hour now. I am not missing dinner with Remy because I’m an idiot who can’t manage his pain.
My notifications show a text from an unknown number. It’s probably one of the usual Medicare supplier advertisements that don’t know what STOP means.
UNKNOWN: Is this Chris?
Ominous. It’s a San Antonio area code.
Who is this?
Typing bubbles appear, giving me a start, knowing I’m suddenly communicating with a stranger on the other end in real time. Turning off the bathroom light, I lumber over to the back of my couch, where I left a clean pair of socks, and wait.
It’s Remy. We didn’t trade numbers, but then I realized I still had yours saved from years ago and took a chance.
