The smile I get probably takes up my entire face. He still had my number after all these years? I’ve had half a dozen new phones since then and deleted nearly every contact from my old life in my bitterness at one point, a few months after my second surgery. I wasn’t lying when I told him no one called.
Maybe he really did call back then. A vague memory of Dad looking guilty, returning my phone when I was out of the woods, crosses my mind. I’d seen him on it a few times, answering calls from the League on my behalf. I remember wondering if he’d seen any of my old messages from Remy. He’d acted kind of strange this weekend when I mentioned I’d started working out with an ‘old friend’ from college. Remy’s more than an old friend—hopefully—and I don’t care what Vince Mightener will think about that.
Yeah, sorry. Hurting a bit today, running late. Wonderful weather.
I hope that’s not too self-pitying. It’s just the facts, and he hasn’t shied away yet.
REMY: How about you stay put and I come to you? Dinner’s almost ready. I can bring it with me. We can take the evening off.
That sounds like hanging out without using exercise as an excuse. I find myself grinning over more than not having to torture my body tonight.
As long as you’re prepared for a very boring evening in.
REMY: Boring is my favorite.
Half an hour later, I’m in the kitchen, leaning on my counter with my eyes closed, begging my misery to subside a little so I can be good company for Remy. I don’t want to wait in my recliner and have to crawl out of it to get to the door. Gale alerts me to his arrival a few seconds before I hear him knock on the door.
“Hi.” He says it so adorably, but it’s the warmth in his eyes that does me in.
“Hi.”
“So, someone saved me from being the laughingstock of the neighborhood and installed a beautiful walking path to my door while I was at work. Any ideas on who that could have been?”
“I might know a guy.”
Beaming, he shifts in place, the foil on the pan he’s holding crinkling. “I love the sun mosaic.”
“Well, I owed you a coffee mug.” I shrug, slightly uncomfortable under the praise, like he’ll know I went with that design because he reminds me of sunshine.
“Thank you. It’s incredible, but I hope that’s not why you’re hurting today.”
No comment. It was totally worth it. Stepping aside to let him in, I shoo Gale to keep her from prancing around his feet, which proves difficult since he has food. I offer to take the warm pan from his hands. When I do, he leans up and plants a quick peck on my cheek.
I can’t believe he’s really here again, and not for therapy. That little kiss means more to me than he knows. It’s difficult to believe that I may actually have a chance. He must notice me blinking in disbelief, because his cheeks go pink and he shrugs.
“I was thinking about how much I wanted to kiss you.”
After stealing my line from last week, he turns to head into the kitchen, but I reach out and snag the back of his jacket, the droplets of rain on it wetting my fingers. Half-tugging him back, half-stepping forward, I bend and press a soft kiss to his lips.
“Me too.”
The smile he gives me makes me less anxious about leaving it chaste. I’m in no condition for heated kisses tonight. Even if I took one of those little wonder pills that the doctor gave me, I don’t think my face would be able to hide my pain. The worried glances he shoots at me as we set the table and eat the roasted chicken and potatoes he made are proof of that. I do my best to swallow grunts of pain behind bites of his delicious cooking, hoping they sound like moans of appreciation.
I listen to him talk about his visit with his family. He doesn’t mention meeting any charismatic men with full-body function on his trip, which makes me gloat even more over that kiss. I tell him about how my energetic nephews played football in the backyard, and about the camper my sister Alice and her husband just bought.
We clear the dishes, and he grabs a towel like he’s intent on drying them again. I’m not in the mood to stand at the sink andwash them, but I don’t have the heart to tell him that. Plus, he’s still here, so I power through, shifting my weight when I think he’s not looking.
“You look like you could use another rubdown,” he says casually at one point.
I would cry in gratitude if he gave me another one, but hate that it means I’m not concealing shit. I really wanted him to see me as a whole man tonight after our time apart, but apparently that’s not going to happen.
“Thank you, but it’s all right. I can handle it.”
Drying his hands, he walks back to the table where his jacket is slung over the back of it. My heart sinks. It’s barely been an hour. I thought I’d get more time with him.
He doesn’t put it on, though. I hear a rustling sound as he digs into the inside pocket and glances back at me sheepishly.
“Well…I brought you a present.”
