AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She knows I don’t mean the sex. She knows I mean the early morning run with a friend. Something I haven’t done since I was in the majors. “Anytime,” she says, and I feel a pang of missing.
For the anytime with us that won’t happen, even though I almost, almost believe that it could.
I go, sliding into sneakers then leaving my brother’s house and this perfect morning behind. Once outside, I pick up the pace and sprint a couple blocks to Monroe’s home. I make up the minutes lost. He’s exiting right as I’m arriving, and he hits the ground running with a crisp nod.
Together, we run toward the Golden Gate Bridge. “We haven’t done a morning run in a long time,” he says.
“I know. Elodie is taking the girls to school,” I explain.
He shoots me a curious look. “Aren’t you domestic?”
I flash back over the last few weeks. We’ve been busy, yes. But we’ve made time for dinners together. For mac and cheese, for couscous and cauliflower, for salads and pasta dishes, for rice and beans and Thai noodles. “Eliza has started eating just like Amanda,” I tell him. “Vegetarian too.”
“So the girls’ habits are rubbing off on each other.”
“They’re scarily alike,” I say, picturing the way the girls interact. “Amanda’s into pottery. She’s so talented she made me a vase for the bar and I filled it with some fall lilies, and now people are asking where to get it. She applied to art school and should find out soon. But I know she’ll get in. She’s that good.”
Monroe arches a brow as we near the bridge. “That’s impressive.”
“Art school. I know,” I say, pride rushing through my bones.
“I meant you knowing all the details about Elodie’s little sister,” he corrects with the thoughtful cadence of a shrink since, well, he is one.
“It is?”
“You care about her,” he observes.
“No shit. She’s a good kid. She likes Eliza, and she’s got this fierce attitude about the world and women. She loves board games and art and rolling her eyes and hanging out with her friends, and she has strong opinions but a tender heart.”
“That last one sounds like your wife.”
I slow my pace as we near the bridge, absorbing that observation for a moment. “That’s true. They have a lot in common,” I say, maybe smiling, maybe sounding a little hooked. Or a lot. “This run with you this morning—it was Elodie’s idea,” I say, giving him more insight into why I’m able to run with him.
“And you’re letting this woman get away at the end of the year?” he says.
It’s like a punch in the gut—the reminder of the end of the year.
“I can’t keep her just because she helps out with the kids…I mean, my kid.”
“But it sounds like you meant kids plural.” That’s the problem with having a therapist as a friend. They can read between the lines far too well.
“Look, it’s nice, all right? There. Are you happy?”
“Aww, was it hard for you to admit your feelings?”
“Nope. It’s more than nice. It’s great,” I say easily, just to prove I can talk about my emotions, even if they’re going nowhere. But I don’t want to spend too much time on things I can’t have so I take a detour. “Business is going great.”
I barely want to breathe this out loud, but I’m finally feeling like the security I’ve been seeking is in my grasp. “I’ve got a meeting with Celeste later in the month about the second location. I still need to make sure my ideas for her are amazing.”
The truth is I haven’t really added any marketing ideas beyond the fairy lights. Beyond the games. I probably should. I definitely should. But I’ve been having too much fun with the girls and with the woman in my brother’s house to think about more than them.
“I’m sure you’ll impress her,” Monroe says as we reach the mouth of the bridge, weaving past other morning warriors as we run through the fog. “And all I can say is this domestic life is treating you well.”
It is. But soon it won’t. Soon it’ll end. A weight sinks in my gut. I don’t want to think about the end of the year. “What about you? What about the crush you’ve had on your fellow podcaster for years?” I ask, turning the convo back on him.
Monroe’s brow knits, like I’ve tossed him a math problem he can’t untangle. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Juliet. I listen to the two of you. You have that frenemies vibe,” I say.
