Jilted Jock - Rebecca Jenshak Page 0,5
in two weeks, so I’ll see him then.”
A groan from the living room reminded us we weren’t alone. Aubrey straightened. “Go. I can handle Finn.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to wait for Chance?”
“Nah, I’ve got it. Girl’s night this week?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
I walked through the apartment passing Finn one last time. He’d taken off his jacket and unbuttoned his white dress shirt the rest of the way. Light brown hair trailed down his chest and disappeared into the top of his black pants. Rippled muscles, skin tan and taut. I swallowed and forced my gaze up to his disheveled head of hair and the broken expression on his face. Eyes closed but brows still furrowed, mouth pulled into a tight line.
The urge to help him was so absurdly strong. I didn’t even know this guy, but I could see how much pain he was in and I hated it. I’d been there. Different circumstances, but one shattered soul recognized another. I hoped that he’d be able to pick up the pieces as I had.
With one final look back, I walked out the front door.
I spent Sunday afternoon painting the accent wall in my living room. It was between Lux or Hyper blue and when I’d reached the front of the paint counter, I blurted out the latter. It was a great color, but admittedly it might have had something to do with the fact Finn had been on my mind nonstop since last night.
It was really none of my business, but I couldn’t get his tortured face out of my head. After the wall was done, I decided to get out of the house for some fresh air. I took off for a walk around the block and dialed Richard.
“Hey,” he answered in a rush. “One second.” His muffled voice gave orders to someone else, “Email me the spreadsheet and I’ll take a look. The numbers are off somewhere and we need to find it.” There were a few moments of silence before he spoke again. “Hey, sorry about that.”
“You’re at work still?”
He sighed and I heard his squeaky desk chair and knew he’d stepped into his office to talk. I could almost see him sitting there in a button-down shirt, his dark hair neatly styled with just a touch of gel. “Yeah, I was hoping we could get out early today and I could enjoy at least a few hours of my weekend, but there’s just too much to do and not enough of us to do it.”
“You say that every weekend,” I reminded him, smiling as I cradled the phone to my ear. He was consistent and reliable from his schedule to his wardrobe of black slacks and button-down shirts, and even what he ate most days. I loved that about him. I always knew what to expect.
“I think we put twenty hours in this weekend. I’m getting too old for this.”
“You’re not old,” I insisted. “Thirty-six is young.”
“Says the woman who just turned thirty.”
“Six years is not that big of a difference.”
He grunted. “Six years ago, I worked ten hours a day, seven days a week and I could have worked more. I had stamina.”
My mind flitted to Finn, six years my junior. Those muscles and the cocky determination of youth still worn like a second skin. I bet he had stamina.
“Adele?”
“Sorry what?” I shook my head and squeezed my eyes closed trying to force the memory of Finn out of my head.
“I asked how your weekend was, did you and CJ have a good time last night?”
“Oh. Yeah, we did. I took him and Pixy to the park so CJ could run off some energy. You should see him. He’s already figured out how to pump his little legs to swing and he followed this one little girl around picking her dandelions until her mum started giving me concerned looks. Little man’s got game. Gonna be just like his daddy.”
“Good, good,” he said absently. He cleared his throat. “I should get back out there so we can finish up. I’ll call you when I get back to my place tonight.”
“Yeah, of course.” My face heated. I’d been blabbing on and on and obviously he needed to get back to work. Long-distance relationships were tricky sometimes. Finding times to talk that were convenient for both of us was a massive feat some days. “Talk to you later.”
After we hung up, I slowed my pace and delayed going back to my empty house. With Richard in