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Figuring it will be a while before I hear back from him, I throw out the fur that’s in the brush, top off Zeus’s water dish, and put the empty plate in the dishwasher.
I’m just saying my goodbye to Zeus when my phone buzzes in my back pocket.
Chase: I thought I was the big guy.
He did not go there.
My cheeks heat to the same level they did last night when I mentioned his muscles. I don’t know what I was thinking. Maybe Chase’s blunt-and-to-the-point personality is rubbing off on me. But it’s hard not to notice his muscles. I mean, they’re alwaysthere. They were present when we were dancing and my hand rested on his back, and I can’t miss them in his tight football uniform. Not to mention the stretching T-shirt he wore last night.
I lock up the apartment and leave, trying to think of how to respond. His text was flirty and I feel as if how I answer will decide if I want to take our… relationship—no, friendship in that direction.
I’m still deciding when my phone buzzes in my hand. I look down, smiling and expecting to see something from Chase, but it’s Mathew’s name on my screen. Confusion swirls in my brain. Why would he be reaching out to me? I haven’t spoken to him in months.
My thumb hovers over the notification while I contemplate if I’m even interested in seeing what he has to say. After a minute of debate, I press on the screen.
Mathew: For all your crying when we split, seems you moved on pretty quick.
Along with his message is a picture of Chase and me at the gala. It’s the one the photographer took when we entered.
My first thought is how small I look next to Chase. My second thought is, what the hell gives Mathew the right to call me out? He’s the one who told me he’d fallen in love with his coworker and that I’d practically pushed him to her because of all the wedding pressure. And he has the absolute audacity to scold me because it appears I’ve moved on?
Me: It’s not really your concern who I spend my time with anymore.
Even though I’m sure Mathew doesn’t really care whether I’ve moved on, it’s likely a sore spot that I was photographed with one of the Kingsmen players. He was always uncomfortable and insecure when I visited my brother because he knew I’d be around the guys on the team. He never wanted me to go and I never invited him because I knew how Miles felt about him—even if I didn’t share that knowledge with Mathew. Having him tag along would have made for an awkward visit for everyone.
The three dots appear immediately.
Mathew: Were you already hooking up with him when you’d visit Miles?
Tears spring to my eyes in a mix of frustration and anger. I shouldn’t care what Mathew thinks. He made it clear he was finished with me. But there’s a little inkling of hope somewhere in my mix of emotions, as though maybe he’s asking because he does care on some level. And that makes me feel like a total loser because this man embarrassed me in front of both our families and friends, and he is so not worth my tears.
Me: Why are you even texting me?
A minute goes by with nothing, so I set my phone on the counter and head into the living room where Kiwi is curled up on the couch. I lie down and cuddle her. She peeks open one eye to look at me, then closes it again and falls back to sleep.
I lie there for a while, thinking of the happy times with Mathew, until the memories end with the day he picked me up at my parents’ house to go for a drive and told me he was calling the wedding off. At some point, I drift off.
A knock on the condo door wakes me. I bolt upright on the couch, startled. It hadn’t been my intention to fall asleep. I was just feeling sorry for myself before plastering on a smile and carrying on with my day. The knock sounds again so I stand, rubbing my face to shake off the brain fog from being woken.
I don’t even have the presence of mind to look through the peephole and see who it is before I open the door. Chase stands in the doorway wearing a different version of what he had on after practice yesterday—a pair of black athletic pants and a white T-shirt that hugs the muscles in his arms and chest in the most delicious way. God, he really is a gorgeous specimen.
He studies me for a beat, a crease between his eyebrows. “Figured I’d see how Zeus did today.”
A yawn escapes me and I put my hand in front of my mouth. “Oh, yeah, he ate all his food, and he wasn’t too terrible when I brushed him.”
Chase doesn’t say anything. He’s staring at me, and I shift in place and look down. What is wrong with me? Eye boogers? Wrinkles from the couch pillow on my face?
“What’s wrong?” His voice holds an edge that makes me feel protected.
“Nothing. What do you mean?” I straighten, locking eyes with him and smiling.
He shakes his head. “Nice try.”
My shoulders slump. “Mathew texted me. He saw a picture of us together at the gala. He accused me of… hooking up with you when I was still with him.” My cheeks heat at the admission because I’m sure Chase probably hooks up with Instagram model types, not mild-mannered teachers from the East Coast.
“That’s none of his business.” His hands fist at his sides.
“That was my response. Anyway, it kind of bummed me out. I’m making good progress moving on with my life and that brought it all back to the surface.” I’m not sure what to do, so I continue standing in the doorway.
