Page 102 of Fumbling for Perfection

And after the media attention last week, there’s no hiding that there’s some kind of relationship going on between us.

“Did she have a good turn out?” I ask, not confirming or denying her assumption.

“Yeah, but that’s not what has us flipping out today.”

Kyle comes bouncing over to us, his smile showing off the expensive set of veneers he invested in last year. “There she is. America’s sweetheart.”

I scrunch my forehead at him. “Excuse me?”

“Babe. You’re all over the internet.We’reall over the internet. Your boy toy put us on the map.”

Ignoring hisBabecomment, I ask Julie. “What’s he talking about?”

I’m not ignorant of social media, but I don’t spend much time online unless I’m doing research.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t seen the reposts?” Julie takes out her phone and opens her TikTok account.

I stare in amazement at all the Walker Bankes posts and videos. Most start with a montage of pictures that I’d like to spend more time drooling over, and then cut to him standing on the stage at the start of the 5K. Most of the audio is voiced over with music, but there are clips of him with his hand around my waist. Someone caught us earlier in the day when we literally ran into each other.

And there are other shots of us from some of our dates before I even knew who he was. Apparently, he had fans in Boston—or paparazzi—who had been snapping pictures of him, and us.

Julie scrolls over to two other social media platforms that show more clips of Boston Strong. “Look at all the media coverage. And Declan Anderson even gave us a shout out on his social media. Some of those posts have gone viral as well. We’ve all been sucked in between finding the viral posts about the foundation and doing some creeping on our boss and her hot boyfriend.”

“I didn’t realize you two were serious,” Kyle says from over my shoulder.

I hand Julie back her phone. “I’m going to head up to my office and catch up on paperwork.”

“You got a big shipment today. I wasn’t sure what it was since nothing was on the schedule to come in this week, so I had them put them in your office. I hope that’s okay.”

“Sure. Thanks.”

Despite the eight hours of sleep I got in Walker’s comfortable bed, my legs and body are tired. And my stomach reminds me I forgot to eat. When I open the door to my office, I freeze in the doorway. Julie wasn’t kidding about a big shipment. Ten boxes are stacked on top of each other and I can’t even find the conference table.

I pick up the large envelope resting on top, slide out a stack of papers, and begin reading.

“Holy fucking shit.”

Tears flood my eyes as I continue to read through the four-page document. When I get to the last piece of paper, a check, my heart is racing so fast I’m afraid I’m going to pass out. I drop to the floor and stare at the documents in front of me.

I have no idea how long I sit in stunned silence before I snap out of it and tear open the boxes. Hundreds of sneakers, and more athletic wear than I immediately know what to do with. All donated for the kids.

I drop to my desk chair and stare out at the thousands of dollars of donated items and pick up the check again. My hands shake as I reach for my phone and start dialing Walker. Before I press send, I drop my phone.

He’s busy doing his football stuff, but I can’t wait to share this news with him. It dawns on me that it isn’t Jackson or Kendall or Rowan that I thought of first, but Walker. Granted, I’m sure I received this more-than-generous donation because of his influence, but still.

It’s Walker I want to celebrate with. It’s Walker I want to spend time with. It’s Walker I want to wake up with every morning and go to bed with every night. It’s Walker who has my heart.

Not wanting to interrupt his day or share this news over the phone, I send him a quick text.

ME: Thank you for letting me sleep in. And for the coffee. I hope you’re feeling better and don’t have to work too hard today.

I contemplate asking him about his dinner plans, but he must be exhausted after playing a late game and not getting much sleep last night. It’s selfish of me to take up his time. Three dots appear and a minute later, a text pops up.

WALKER: Hurt like hell leaving you in bed this morning. Easy day in the office. They’re letting us out at six tonight so they can beat the hell out of us tomorrow. *wink emoji*

We still need to talk aboutusbut not when we’re rushed and when he needs to focus on healing and his game. I do want to share my news with him though. And thank him for caring for me when my intent had been to care for him.

Nibbling my lip, I like the idea of surprising him and doing something nice for him. I pocket my phone, scan my office that’s once again in shambles—in the best of ways—and head out.

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