Page 68 of Mr. Swoony

“You know it will be more fun with me.”

He’s right. It will.

This past week, I needed the time to reevaluate what I want my future to look like, and no matter what version I imagined, Conor was there. Maybe we won’t last. Maybe we will. But I’m not going to be afraid to put myself out there just because it didn’t work out with Tristan. I learned some lessons from how everything went down with him, and I plan to bring them into my next relationship. So, I’m done teetering the line with Conor. We need to figure out what side of it we’re going to fall on. I’m not suggesting I’m going to tie myself to his headboard naked for his taking, but I don’t want to ignore the chemistry between us either.

“You have about ten minutes,” I say.

“I don’t do a lot of things fast, but I can get ready in that short of time.” He heads toward his bedroom, but stops and comes back over, standing at the back of the couch. “I’m sorry for last week.”

I peer up from my phone. “You don’t have to apologize. I just got defensive, because… well, you know. But I know you and Jade just wanted to be there for me.”

He stays in place and holds my gaze. “I did want to be there for you in case he did something shitty, but… I was afraid too.”

I drop my phone in my lap. “About what?”

“I was afraid you were going to take him back.” He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, obviously uncomfortable. It’s amusing that I can make this big, tough, successful hockey player uncomfortable. Scratch that, it’s endearing.

“And had I, what would you have done?” I shouldn’t ask. This line of conversation could twist us in a place we’re not ready for.

“I’m pretty sure I would’ve interfered.” Again, another shift of his body, his knuckles white along the back of the couch.

“Oh.”

“That’s it?” He arches an eyebrow.

“Well, it didn’t come to that. Can I really get mad at you for wanting to fight for me?”

His gorgeous smile wipes away all the worry lining his face. I smile back and am relieved that things feel lighter between us now.

“I’ll be right back.” He circles around and heads into his bedroom.

Once the door shuts, I tip my head back against the cushions, repeating to myself to trust this feeling in my gut. If I’d done that in the first place, I wouldn’t have ended up running out on my own wedding.

Half an hour later, after we’ve stopped to get some coffees, we’re waiting for the light to change so we can cross the street.

“Okay, how many acts of kindness do you want to do?” Conor asks.

“Well, thirty total, but I have a few months. I was thinking I’d do a couple today.”

He nods, looking around. “How elaborate do you want them to be? Do we count picking up that piece of garbage as an act or opening a door for someone?”

“Garbage yes, but it can’t be like thirty pieces of garbage, and we’re done. One piece of garbage. Opening a door for someone…” My head bobs right and left. “Not for hot girls though.”

Conor laughs and wraps his lips around his straw. He swallows, and his hand falls on my shoulder. “No hot girls and no hot guys then.” He eyes me, looking for a response.

“Deal.”

“Well, there’s your piece of garbage.” He points at an empty coffee cup on the sidewalk. Someone must have missed the garbage can or didn’t even try to get it in.

“Okay…” I stare at the piece of garbage. “Let me get my wipes out.” I shuffle over to the wall, out of foot traffic, and open my purse, taking out my wipes. “Here, hold this.” I shove my coffee at him, which he takes with no complaint.

I grab a wipe, pick up the cup, and toss it in the trash can.

Conor leans against the brick wall. “Want me to get you a hazmat suit?”

I give him my sassy shut up look, which only makes him laugh. Taking out my sanitizer, I put it on my hands before taking my coffee back from Conor. We walk some more, and I rack my brain for what else we can do.

“Want to donate blood?” I ask.

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