“No, it’s just me,” I admit.
“It’s better that way sometimes.” He glances out the window. “I’ve been with my partner for so long, I don’t even remember what it feels like to be alone, but I imagine I would feel less lonely not being in a relationship than I feel in this one. I used to think there was one person out there made for everyone, but I’m starting to think it’s more about the person who comes along at the right time and works hard to make it work, but what do I know?”
“It is his fault, not yours,” I assure him. “Whatever reason he has for cheating on you, it isn’t enough. If he’s unhappy, then he should leave. Are you happy, Zia?”
He looks at me, his sad eyes drifting over my face. “You’re the first person to ever ask me that. No. I’m not happy.”
“Then figure out what makes you happy. It’s never too late to start over.”
He swallows as he considers my words. “Enough of this sappy shit,” he finally scoffs, wiping his eyes. “So, boxer guy, tell me, do boxers go commando in the shorts they wear?”
I laugh. It isn’t forced, and I’m not looking at anyone else to see if I should be laughing. It just flows naturally, and his grin only makes mine grow.
We talk for hours about everything and anything. He rips me apart with his questions, dissecting me, and I do the same to him. Before I know it, I fall asleep in the window seat, pressed against this stranger who seems to know all my deepest, darkest secrets when no one else does.
THREE
Iwake with the sun. My neck aches and my legs have pins and needles running through them, but when I open my eyes, I see him. His face is pressed against the window, slack in his sleep, and his large frame is scrunched up, his feet hanging off to the side. He’s snoring, and I can’t help but grin.
He stayed with me all night and helped me when no one else would have, especially without receiving anything in return. I don’t know what type of man he is outside of this bubble we created, but I know it’s a good one.
We talked for hours last night. I swear this man saw every deep, dark part of me that no one else ever has.
I hear my phone buzz deep in the apartment. He plugged it in to charge for me since it was dead. I know I should get up and call a mechanic then my assistant and figure out where I should go from here—not just from this gym, but also in my life—but I just lie here and watch him.
In some ways, Nikko’s life is so simple. He has a dream, and he’s working toward it. He also has a normal job, a family, and a stable home and income.
He doesn’t spend his days looking over his shoulder, surrounded byguards, his name a threat to everyone around him. I can’t infect his life with the darkness in mine, but I give myself a moment to soak in the warmth that seems to follow this adorably clumsy man around.
The bubble pops, and I slide away. I’m not normal and never will be. It’s time to stop running from that and embrace it. I am who I am, and it’s time I find happiness in that as well as my purpose.
Silently getting to my feet, I walk away from Nikko and his endearing innocence. What we found last night can’t last. The false sense of safety and reprieve from my life doesn’t really exist, and he wouldn’t want me to stay either. He would grow tired of me just like everyone else. We aren’t even friends. We are just strangers who met in passing and forged a temporary connection.
We are worlds apart, and I’m acutely aware of that.
Unplugging my phone, I sink down into his bed, the slightly ajar door letting in his soft snores.
There are no messages or missed calls from Faiz to show he cared or was worried. Did he even notice I was gone? I don’t think so, or if he did, then he didn’t care enough to even reach out. I don’t know what’s worse. Navigating to my call list, I ignore the pounding pain in my chest, one that has been a constant for years, but this time it’s different.
It’s as if my heart is finally realizing this will be over soon and only the pain will be left.
I hit the number that takes up most of my call list, and it rings once before he answers, his voice sharp even this early in the morning. At least he is always happy to talk to me.
“Sir? Are you okay?” Yuki asks. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
Technically, Yuki is my executive assistant, but he’s more of a friend than anything else. Yes, he does his job, and he does it fucking well, but we have a bond I can’t explain. Over the years, it’s gone from professional to openly joking and talking with each other, a friendship I cherish.
“My car broke down last night just down the road from Nexus Gym. I don’t know the address?—”
“On it.” I hear him typing. “I have the address, and a tow has been ordered. I’ll get it to the garage. Where are you? Are you okay?”
“The son of Nexus’s owner let me stay since the weather was bad and my phone died. Can you send the car?” I ask softly, trying to be quiet so I don’t wake Nikko.
“Of course. We’ll be there as quickly as possible.”
“No, don’t worry about going with it. It’s early?—”
“Sir,” he snaps, “I will be there.” He’s quiet for a beat, and I know he’s debating if he should bite his tongue. Two years ago, he would have, but I guess time changes everything. “Are you okay? You sound sad.”
