Eligible Ex-husband - Marie Johnston Page 0,39

bags and stuffed animals. Today, he’s out getting some groceries, mostly crackers and Sprite.

Simon and I aren’t feeling queasy or affected. They must’ve picked up the stomach bug from the play area I took them to on Friday before I dropped them off with their dad.

Guilt only affects me because the kids are miserable, but I can’t deny that being surrounded by my family all weekend was nice. I didn’t get much work done, but I wouldn’t have if I was alone and dealing with all of this.

Simon was with me every step of the way. And I recalled how he was always there with me when things got tough. It never mattered that he worked all day or had meetings. He never held that over my head when the kids were up sick all night, or when they woke with growing pains or nightmares. He was out of bed and taking care of them with me.

It was the normal day-to-day issues that he failed at.

I scrub my face and get up. The longer I sit here and ponder how different things have been since my mom was sick, the more confused I’m going to get. Simon’s made no more moves to get close to me and we’d even taken the Arizona trip together and stayed in the same suite—with him in a separate bedroom.

Yeah. Not a fun train of thought. There’s always laundry.

I go to my bedroom and gather my dirty clothes and bedding from the previous week and carry them to the basement. My mind loses its attempts to quit thinking about Simon, inconveniently getting stuck on his bare ass in the night-light.

Is he done with me? There was the kiss in my office and then the night he slept in the same bed, but since I shut him down, he’s respected my limits. Dammit.

What do I think? That I’m so irresistible he can’t keep his hands off me no matter what I say? I’d be angry at him all over again if he did. But he’s not pursuing me, and the echoes of hurt from being so easily resisted make no sense.

That ass, though. And his chest.

I push my hair off my face and punch the buttons on the machine. When it starts to make noise, I turn around and slump against it. I’m not ready to go upstairs and pretend to be the mom who has her shit together. I’m a woman mixed-up over a guy and I thought I wouldn’t be that person after I said “I do”. I wasn’t even that person when I said I don’t. Then, I was only a mom trying to do her best for her kids. A mom who was trying to find her inner woman again and unearth the goals I want in my life.

Things are exactly as I need them. Simon’s co-parenting. I managed to get to two personal training appointments last week and have been doing my training runs in the morning. And I’ve almost nailed down the design for my logo.

But there’s a huge gaping hole in my life in the exact shape of a sexy man with a devilish smile who can wear the hell out of a suit.

The laundry door pushes open and Simon enters with a small armful of girl clothes. My heart stutters. He hasn’t shaved all weekend and the faint dusty brown stubble on his chin gives him an irresistible rugged look.

He takes one look at my face and hip checks the door closed. “What’s wrong?”

I shake my head and fold my arms like they’re some sort of defense against how devastating he looks in his gray gym shorts and red T-shirt. The clothes I found in the closet are currently in the dryer. “Nothing. I just needed a moment.”

He dumps the clothes in the dirty pile against the wall. The laundry is noisy, but it’s cocooning us in our own space and the extra heat thrown off from the dryer increases my antsy discomfort. It has nothing to do with the man in front of me causing a full-body flush.

Towering over me, he rests one hand on the washer lid next to me. The faint vibrations of the machine are nothing I’ve noticed before, but his proximity amplifies the effect until I’m ready to strip down to nothing in a desperate attempt to seek relief.

“I should go then,” he says quietly. “To give you a moment.”

He doesn’t move and I don’t ask him to. “Stay.”

The corner of his mouth