Chapter Eight
“How do I look?” I ask Marcus.
He looks up from the project he’s currently working on—fixing our leaky bathroom pipe—and grins. “Like a hotty.” He stands, setting the wrench down on the vanity. “Where’s your mystery man taking you for date number four?”
I bite my lip. “I’m not sure. All he said was that he had a surprise for me and to dress casual.” I wish I could say I was a little more excited than nervous, but fear has got me all tangled up in knots.
The worry must be written all over my face because Marcus’ giant hand cups the back of my head before he pulls me closer and presses a kiss on my forehead. “Has he given you any bad vibes on your other dates?”
I shake my head, peering up. “No, not at all. He’s been a complete green fuckin’ flag, actually.”
Marcus’ expression goes unreadable for a moment before he replies, “Then I’m sure this”—his thumb smooths out the worry lines between my brows—“is all in your head.”
Yeah, it probably is. That’s what my therapist, Brooks, also told me when I had my teletherapy appointment with him earlier.
Still, it doesn’t stop the feelings that have ebbed and flowed through me for years from rising like the tides tonight.
“You sure you don’t want me to postpone so I can take Harrison and Brody to the fireworks with you?
You know how crowded it can get on the boardwalk on the Fourth of July… ”
I’m met with an unamused expression. “What makes you think I can’t handle a pair of eleven-year-olds by myself? Stop fretting, and go on your date. Make sure your phone is charged before going, that way you can always get a hold of me if you need to.”
I bat my eyelashes at him. “And me dating outside of us isn’t bothering you?”
Marcus grabs his wrench with a huff, ducking back down under the sink. “I’m not going to dignify that question with the thousandth same answer, Lauren,” he deadpans. “Did it bother you when I went out and got a little side action?”
“No.”
“Alright, then. Sounds like we’ve settled that… again.”
“Brody’s got his bag packed for his sleepover,” I sigh.
“I know,” he mutters from under the sink. “I helped him pack, remember? Even argued with him over your non-negotiable extra pair of boxers.”
I huff in annoyance, “It never hurts to be prepared!”
He peeks out from underneath the sink, offering me an eyeroll. “You act as if every outing that requires us to pack an overnight bag is going to end with us all shitting ourselves on the reg, darling.”
“You never know. And hey, this is why I insist that we not share underwear!”
“I am wearing my own goddamn thongs now! They’re actually more comfortable anyway. The boys are adequately cupped.”
“See?”
He smirks. “See as in you want to see them, or see like you’ve made your point?”
I giggle. “Both?”
He stands again, but doesn’t make a move to pull down his—ahem, gray—sweatpants. No, he gives me a chaste peck on the cheek instead. “If you don’t end up spending the night out at fart squirrel village, I’ll show you them when you get home.”
I instantly tense up. Every muscle in my body goes rigid. I’ve never mentioned to Marcus that Caleb’s son, Cameron, has a pet skunk. How could he possibly know that, unless he knows him? Shit, so then he must know how I met Caleb in the first place—I’m dating a client.
“How do you know about Pepper?”
Marcus immediately stills as well. His eyes dart around the room quickly before finding their way back to my face. “Um, I—” he stammers. “Uh, I think you mentioned it?”
“I didn’t. I know I didn’t.”
Just then, Brody strides by the open bathroom door.
“Dad and I met Pepper when we were out delivering packages a few weeks back! And I met Cameron; he speaks sign too! He and his dad both do. Cool, huh? Dad already knows Caleb, Cameron’s dad.
They don’t get along, but Dad says it’s like me and Ryker. He’ll work on it.”
“Fuckin’ A,” Marcus grumbles under his breath, scrubbing his palm down over his face.
My jaw is practically scraping the floor as I gape back at Marcus. “You know Caleb? How?”
Marcus’ face scrunches in frustration. Before he can reply, however, the strobe we have, which accompanies the chime of a doorbell, flickers. Brody runs to the door, likely anticipating the arrival of his best friend, Harrison, but is met by Caleb—holding a bouquet of dark maroon roses—instead.
“Hi!” Brody chirps. “What are you doing here? I was just telling Mom how Dad and I met you! Who are those flowers for?”
Caleb tucks the flowers under his arm so he can sign. “I’m a delivery driver for the florist,” he lies to my son. A clever fib, which I am thankful for, because I’m in no way ready to try to explain to my son that I’ve been seeing someone aside from his father.
“I tried texting you to let you know I was here, but I got no answer,” Caleb explains to me.
Brody dons a confused look, his eyes flicking between Caleb and Marcus. “Dad, I thought you said you got a job with him on a boat, but he’s out making deliveries like you did? Are you guys fighting again? It's only been a couple'a weeks!”
Pardon me, but why the hell is there so much to unpack here right now? Like, what the actual fuck is going on?!
“Can someone please explain to me how you two know each other, and why exactly you have this animosity that Brody keeps bringing up?” I gesture between the men.
Marcus steps out around me, and takes the flowers Caleb passes to him. As he does, Harrison peeks in behind Caleb. He lives just a few houses up the street, so it’s customary, by now, for him to just waltz in. For what it's worth, Brody does the same thing there too.
“Um, hi. Can I come in?” Harrison asks sheepishly.
“Yep! Come on in, bud!” Marcus pipes up. “Let me go get changed real quick, and we’ll head on down to the waterfront. I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for some cotton candy for supper until we get to watch some giant sparklers blow up.”
The boys both giggle, the situation between the men suddenly forgotten when Brody hauls Harrison off to his bedroom to show him the latest and greatest video game he scored.
“Love you, Brody! Be good tonight for both your dad and Harrison’s parents!” I call down the hallway.
“Love you too, Mum! We will!”
I turn my attention back to Marcus and Caleb. “Someone want to start talking?” I quip, eyebrow raised.
“Can’t,” Caleb signs with a heavy dose of snark in his expression.
“No,” Marcus grunts at the same time. Then, he glowers at Caleb. “I told you I wasn’t going to say anything.”
“Yeah, you did, but I’m still trying to figure out if that was truly for my own benefit or because you’re continually just as chickenshit as ever.”
“Oh, well this is awesome. You two have clearly come to some sort of mutual agreement to keep secrets from me, despite not being able to see eye-to-eye on why,” I bite sarcastically.
“You know what? It’s cool. Why don’t I just change and head to the gym instead?
You both very apparently know each other and have some shit you need to work out amongst yourselves... ”
“No!” Marcus snaps and Caleb signs at the same time.
I rear back. “Oh, so you both can also agree what I do? Abso-fucking-lutely not,” I huff. “Neither of you are the boss of me, thanks.” I storm off into my bedroom, slamming the door behind me.
Seething over how I’ve been lied to by both of them, and unwilling to have some epic blow up with my son and his friend still in the house, I change out of my outfit and into something more apropos for the gym.
The silence behind the closed door only serves to piss me off more, since I know they’re probably having some heated discussion using only their hands.
Marcus has never—and I mean never—kept anything from me, so the fact that he hid something like this from me hits especially hard.
And as for Caleb? Well, how can I possibly see us going anywhere now that we’ve just gotten things off on a foundation made of sand? Fuck this. I knew I was getting in over my head, but even when it came to putting my career on the line, I turned a blind eye. How goddamn na?ve can I possibly be?
I knew his green-flag persona was too good to be true, and I was on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
That boot just hit the pavement real hard, and I’m about to exercise that carelessness out at the gym, by kicking the shit out of the punching bag just as hard.
Thank fuck I’ll likely have the place to myself tonight.
I don’t spare either of them the time of day as I rush past them, snatching my keys up on my way out the door.
“Lo! Don’t go!” Marcus calls out to me. “Lauren, please!”
I ignore him, stuffing myself into my car and jamming the key into the ignition.
Out of my periphery, as I turn my head to look over my shoulder to back out of the driveway, I see Caleb chasing after me as well—his hands gesticulating wildly.
I ignore him too, not even sparing a glance to catch what he’s saying, as I speed off towards Forge Fitness.
“Geesh, what’d that bag ever do to you?” Micah quips, startling me from my assault on his equipment.
“Sorry,” I huff, letting my guard down. Sweat beads drip down my skin as I struggle to catch my breath. I wipe my forehead with my arm before resting both gloved hands on my hips.
“Don’t be sorry,” he replies, looking concerned. “Anything you want to talk about?”
I sigh, plunking my ass down on the fighting mats, tucking my knees up to my chest. He gingerly sits down near me—close enough to chat, but far enough away to signify he’s aware of my need for distance.
In a way, I’m kind of sad that he and Marcus never worked out.
I’ve always found the man wholly respectful, and it seems like we’ve had this easy friendship since I started coming here to his gym.
“Do you know Caleb Dupris?” I ask Micah, completely on a whim, as I remove my gloves.