Chapter 4 #2
He grins. Then Ethan leads him outside into the rain.
I suppress a laugh as Owen jumps into a puddle, splashing Ethan’s shoes.
Ethan opens his mouth, ready to scold him, but at the glance I throw him, he clamps it shut.
“Come on, Buddy, in we get,” he says, his voice tight as he helps Owen into the back of the SUV and straps him into the booster seat.
“Bye, Mommy!” Owen yells. I wave back as Ethan shuts the door, continuing to wave even though I can’t see him through the blacked-out windows. Ethan nods at me as he climbs into the car.
“Call me if you—” the wind whips away my words.
I stand in the doorway watching the taillights disappear down the street while thunder rumbles overhead.
The house feels too quiet immediately afterward. Too empty. My phone buzzes in my pocket.
You disappeared again.
Desire curls deep inside me, despite the knot of anxiety still sitting in my chest. I type back before I can overthink it.
Kid handoff—slight emotional trauma.
The response comes instantly.
You okay?
The concern catches me off guard, and I stare at the screen a second longer than necessary. I don’t want to overshare by dumping all my ex-husband and his affair baggage on him this soon, so I just reply:
Just weird having him gone overnight.
Three dots appear. Then:
Bet the house feels too quiet.
Something about the answer makes me feel hollow and comforted at the same time, because that’s exactly how it feels.
Despite the weather outside and despite my nerves about going, I grab my gym bag mostly because I can’t stand sitting alone with my thoughts right now.
I need to see Tyler in person to convince myself I haven’t made this whole thing up.
***
Rain drizzles cold against my skin as I hurry into the gym parking lot twenty minutes later.
Music pounds through overhead speakers while treadmills hum in steady rows beneath fluorescent lights.
I immediately spot Tyler, and my heart beats a little faster.
He’s near the weight racks, wearing a fitted black compression shirt that honestly should qualify as a public safety issue.
It’s definitely way too tight. Dani would have a field day.
I wonder if he wears it simply as part of his work persona, or if it somehow helps him get more clients.
Getting to know him better, he doesn’t strike me as being a deeply vain person who only cares about the surface.
Tyler spots me almost instantly and grins. “Well, there she is.”
Heat rushes into my cheeks. The thing is, after days of texting, seeing him in person suddenly feels different, more intimate somehow.
It feels as if I know secrets about him now, or that we share one.
I try my best not to let my eyes dart to his tight shorts, wondering how he hides that beast down there in a relatively small bulge; they must be compression too.
He walks over slowly, towel draped around his neck. “Thought maybe you were avoiding me.”
I bat my eyelashes, immediately cursing myself for doing it. He probably thinks I’ve got a bug in my eye. “Maybe I was.”
“Mhm.” His eyes flick over me briefly. “You don’t look like someone avoiding me.”
My stomach tightens. See? This is exactly why I started texting him in the first place. As if summoned, my phone buzzes in my bag and I jump.
He laughs. “You blush this hard every time your phone buzzes now?”
I blink. “What?”
Something strange flashes across his face. Almost amusement. “Nothing.” But the way he says it feels odd somehow, like he knows something I don’t.
Before I can ask, another trainer calls his name across the gym. Tyler glances over his shoulder. “Shit. Class.”
“Oh.” Disappointment hits me harder than it should.
He starts backing away, grinning. “Don’t miss me too much.” He gives me one last long, lingering look. “Try not to get into trouble tonight.”
I have that weird feeling again, as if he’s referencing conversations we’ve had over text without actually acknowledging them directly.
Like he’s playing some sort of game, but I don’t know the rules.
Is this how people flirt now? Before I can figure out how to respond, he’s already crossing the gym floor toward a group fitness class.
I pull out my phone in case it’s Ethan with a question about Owen.
Instead, it’s Dani asking me how things went with Tyler. I fire back a text:
He’s acting just like normal.
I stand there, confused, for several seconds afterward.
Somehow, the man texting me feels bigger than the man standing in front of me.
When we message, he’s so much more… well, more everything, almost my dream man.
But in person, he’s just the same old Tyler.
Maybe he’s just being professional in the gym, but it’s almost like he’s two different people.
The thought follows me all the way home.
Rain taps steadily against the windows again by the time I call Dani later that night. “You should come,” she says immediately when I explain how empty the house feels without Owen.
“I’m not driving three hours to Nashville.” Dani is away on a business trip for the weekend, unfortunate timing, but I refused to let her reorganize it on my behalf, nor was I willing to leave the house to join her, just in case Owen needs me.
“Yes, you are,” she insists, her voice sounds distant and echoey. I presume she has me on speakerphone in the bathroom while she gets ready to go out.
“No, I’m not.”
“You’re newly divorced and emotionally unstable. This is prime girls-trip material.” She smacks her lips together, a telltale sound that she’s applying lipstick.
I laugh softly, curled sideways on my couch in leggings with a throw blanket wrapped around my shoulders. “I want to stay home.”
“In case Ethan combusts while parenting?” Her voice drips with sarcasm.
I pick up my glass of wine and take a sip. “Exactly.” I don’t normally drink alone, but just one felt appropriate tonight.
Dani sighs dramatically through the phone. “You’re no fun.”
“I know.”
There’s a pause. “So, gym boy,” she asks, making it a question.
Heat creeps into my face. “He’s weird.”
Dani gasps. “Bad weird? What did he do? Did he send you something gross? One time there was this guy who—”
I cut her off before she could launch into some gross story. “No.” I flop backward dramatically onto the pillows. “Confusing, weird.”
“Ooh. Elaborate.” Her voice is clearer now; she’s taken me off speakerphone.
I lie back on the couch and stare up at the ceiling while rain rolls softly outside. “I feel like…” I hesitate. “I feel like he’s different over text.”
“How?”
I sigh. “I don’t know.”
But I do know. Text Tyler feels funny, commanding, charming, observant, and dangerously good at making me blush.
Gym Tyler mostly comes across as a very attractive man who owns too many compression shirts.
The contradiction should bother me more than it does.
Instead, somehow, it only makes me want to keep texting him.