Page 92 of The Forbidden Fling

Running was infinitely more productive than curling up in the dark in her room and daydreaming about what might have been if Molly hadn’t stumbled upon them. Because Diana hadn’t replied to Faye’s suggestion, but she had kissed her, and Faye thought that meant something.

She also denied it all and blamed it on you, her brain liked to remind her. Yep. There was that too.

She didn’t need Diana to make her feel good about herself. Yes, she loved the feeling when she was with her. The carefreeness, the confidence, the feeling she could do anything—but she could give that to herself. All this time she’d been searching for the enigma, and she understood now. She’d always had it.

A man rode past on his bike, pinging his bell in greeting. That was enough to snap her out of her pity party. She began her cool-down stretches, trying to refocus her thoughts on anything that wasn’t the gorgeous blonde with impeccable posture.

“Stop thinking about her,” she scolded herself as she sank into a hamstring stretch. “It’s done now. If she wanted you, she’d have called.”

“Damn straight,” a woman quipped behind her. “You can’t waste time trying to catch the wind, love.”

Faye turned to the older woman sitting on the bench, a happy black schnauzer slumped across her lap. “Uh, thank you.”

She put a cigarette to her puckered lips, lighting it with a match, and exhaled. “Keep putting one step in front of the other.”

“I will. You too.” Faye gave her a smile and then started walking, putting the advice into literal practice. She left the path and rejoined the road, the early morning air crisper now against her bare legs. The sun had already risen, but a grey mist hovered, threatening rain. Typical for her day off, but she could have been knee-deep in a bog observing frogs, so she’d not complain.

She blew out a breath, watching as the steam contorted in front of her, and forced her tired legs up the hill. She was doing okay—she was—but she couldn’t stop the niggle in the back of her brain, wishing that things were different.

She grasped the totem hanging around her neck, feeling its ridges. The elephant. These gentle giants possess a phenomenal capacity to endure and overcome, Senhor had stressed. Their immense physical strength and intelligence make them a symbol of resilience and perseverance. The elephant teaches us to recognise our own strength and power. Harness that, and rule in the stability that our inner voice and instincts bestow.

Faye wanted to believe that. In some ways, she did believe. Life with her ostomy had become her new normal, but when it came to her emotions, they flew all over the place. One moment, she was up on the runners’ high, one step closer to her half-marathon goal. The next, she was standing in the courtyard, Diana crushing her heart in the palm of her hand.

What would an elephant do?

Other than stampeding across the Atlantic to drop a Titanic-sized poop on the woman’s head, Faye wasn’t sure.

She turned onto her street, rubbing the totem like it would suck out all the sadness sinking in her bones. She wanted to move on. But their last encounter played on a loop in her head. Had she been too rash? What might Diana have said if she’d waited?

But Diana hadn’t contacted her. Diana didn’t want her. It was over.

So stop thinking about her.

The metal garden gate squeaked as she flung it open, the steps up to the mint-green door still damp from the morning condensation. In the hallway, she kicked off her shoes, placing them under the radiator to dry. The familiar sound of Tracy and Edna Turnblad was playing in the kitchen, and the knots in her chest loosened a little, knowing the scene before she even opened the door.

The music grew louder, the fresh scent of pancakes hitting her in a beautiful waft. As predicted, Lukas and Quin were mid-dance to “Welcome to the 60’s” while David cooked batter in the pan, bopping his shoulders to the beat.

She’d barely had time to step foot into the kitchen before Quin tugged her towards them, encouraging her to twist her hips. Lukas held her other hand, the three of them bouncing in a circle—both more enthusiastic than her—until the song ended, to whoops and whistles from David.

“Alright, you lot.” David turned down the speaker with one hand, sliding a fresh pancake onto the pile with the other. “Breakfast is served.”

“Perfect timing, Faye,” Quin said as they took a seat at the table. “You made a great Mr Pinky.”

“Mr Pinky?” She scoffed, bending to stroke Mochi and Taco, who had come to see what the commotion was about. “I don’t even need to ask who you were in the Broadway production.”

“Well, duh.” They grinned. “Of course, I’m Tracy Turnblad. I’m lead role material.”

David took a seat next to Lukas. “I hope you’ve all worked up an appetite.” His kind eyes flicked to Faye. “How was your run?”

“I did it.” She forced her gaze to the stack of fresh pancakes, the smell making her salivate. David could see through her so easily, but she didn’t want to talk about Diana again. She felt like a broken record.

“That’s amazing!” Quin pulled her into a hug, knocking her elbow against the table. “You’re a superstar.”

“Well done,” Lukas echoed.

“Thanks,” she replied sheepishly, reaching for two pancakes and placing them on her plate. She scooped up a heap of fresh strawberries and blueberries and then drizzled syrup generously over it all. David’s eyes tracked her, worry etched into his forehead. He’d need more to satisfy him. “And I’ve nearly raised 700 pounds for the sanctuary too.”

“Wonderful.” He beamed, and some of the tension in her shoulders loosened. “I’m sure Riley will be thrilled with that.”