But I’m me. And a baby changes everything.
Eight
Sleepnevercomes.Igive up at five and start firing off emails to my paralegal while drinking as much coffee as I can to distract myself from the growing anxiety. I watch the sun crest the horizon. A new day is here.
I slide into my sneakers by the door and throw on a final layer. Footsteps from the kitchen catch my attention, and I look up to find James draining a cup of coffee, dressed for a run.
He takes in the form-fitting Lycra and freezes. His stare is heavy and blatant, lingering long enough to warm my whole body. Then Bell walks through the foyer, nails tapping hard against the floor, and he tears his eyes away, leaning down to lace up his sneakers.
“Mind if I tag along? I promise I’m much more capable on my feet without skates,” he says without looking up.
I pause for a second, debating whether inviting him is a good idea. Seriously, I’m running to buy pregnancy tests. But knowing something is dumb and not doing it are two different things. What’s the harm in a few easy miles together?
“I’m running into the village to grab something from the convenience store. You can come if you’re up for six or seven hilly miles. But don’t expect me to slow down for you.” I wink and head out the door before I can flirt any further.
As we set off down the driveway toward the main road into town, the crisp mountain air fills my lungs. Being outside, surrounded by the quiet beauty ofthe forest and the sting of the cold, steadies my mind. We run in easy silence, our strides naturally in sync, until I decide to break it. I need to set some boundaries, especially after his bullshit last night.
“Okay, convince me you’re not a fuckboy stringing Ivy along. I saw you checking out my ass. That didn’t feel brotherly.”
A flush stains his cheeks, and my resolve stutters.
“How do I convince you I’m a good guy? Twenty questions.”
“Twenty questions? What is this, a teenage sleepover?”
James lets out a low chuckle. “Humor me, Sydney. Twenty questions. Completely honest answers. No deflecting, no half-truths. You ask, I answer. Then I ask, and you answer. Deal?”
Torn between curiosity and self-preservation, I stall. But there’s something in his expression, a vulnerability beneath the charm, that has me nodding.
“Fine. But I go first,” I say. “What’s the number one thing on your bucket list?”
“Hmm, I haven’t really thought about a bucket list. I’m thirty-six, not exactly in the last throes of life. But there are a few things. I want to run all six major marathons. And I want to climb Kilimanjaro.”
“Have you run any of the majors yet? I’ve crossed New York City and Boston off my list.”
“So you weren’t kidding about not slowing down for me? I’ve run Boston and London. Running Chicago this year.” He pauses, considering, and asks, “Were you Homecoming Queen in high school?”
“What kind of question is that?” I scoff, but feel the heat creep into my cheeks. “My school didn’t even have homecoming. And I wouldn’t have gotten it anyway. I was too quiet and weird for anyone to appreciate. Favorite color?”
“We’re diving deep. It’s green. Are you a flowers-and-chocolate person, or do you prefer adventure?”
“One hundred percent, I’d choose an adventure. No matter if it’s just a run or something bigger like hopping in the car for a spontaneous road trip, I’d prefer those any day over a bouquet. What’s your longest relationship?”
His eyes gleam golden green in the soft morning light. They crinkle at the edges as he smirks.
“What? It’s part of my fuckboy research. I need to know if Ivy’s dating a player. You’re not exactly a young man.”
“Six years. It ended last year, but honestly? I should have ended it way sooner.” He pulls his beanie off his head and runs a hand through his hair before pulling it down again, never losing his stride. “I’m not a player. I… just have this bad habit of holding onto relationships longer than I should.” He pauses. “I’m not scared of marriage. Just haven’t found the right person.”
“Is that why you’re dating Ivy? Looking for your forever person?” My breath hitches as I force the words out.
“Nope. It’s my turn.” He lets out a sharp exhale through puffed cheeks. “What made you decide on corporate law?”
“My parents were both lawyers. Their parents before them. You know, the whole carry-the-torch, family tradition thing. Corporate felt less personal. Companies, buying other companies, are far less messy than dealing with people and their problems.”
James stays quiet for a few minutes. Our sneakers scuff the pavement, the only sound apart from a winter bird’s cry slicing through the silence.
Then, softly, “You saidwere, notare. Have your parents passed away?”
