Page 47 of Still The One

‘How about another walk?’ I ask, approaching Foster who’s now sitting on the side of my bed.

‘Only if you promise to touch my firmness again,’ he jokes.

I smirk. ‘How could I say no?’

19

GUY ‘FOSTER’

My phone rings loudly, pulling me out of my sleep. I fumble around blindly, searching for it under my pillow until I finally find it.

‘Hello?’ I croak, my voice rough from just waking up. The daylight streaming through the window tells me I’ve been out for a while. How long did I sleep? All the walking – er, healing (Eve’s words) is wearing me out. I don’t even remember going to bed last night.

Matty’s familiar voice comes through the phone, easing my mind. ‘How ya doin’, bud?’

‘Oh, you know, just living the life as I’m glued to my ex’s bed while she waits on me hand and foot.’

‘I hope you’re a better actor than rider if you expect her to believe you don’t secretly love every moment of being there.’ He bellows a laugh into the phone.

‘That is our secret,’ I remind him. ‘Also, one wreck doesn’t make me a bad rider.’

‘I suppose you’re right. Well, I worried this might blow up at first but it’s been five days at her place and you’re still alive; that’s a good sign.’

‘That’s because our conversations have been surface level at best. And she has a “no flirting in the apartment” rule which stifles my usual ways.’

‘Probably for the best.’

‘She’s definitely playing it safe.’

‘As should you, considering your physical condition. Do you feel like you’re healing?’

‘Yeah. My ribs still hurt with a lot of movement but we’re getting somewhere, I think. She’s got me walking miles around the building multiple times a day – I think that’s doing the most.’

‘Good, good, so you’re in good hands with Eve. I’m glad.’

‘I am in gorgeous hands and since her rule is “no flirtinginthe apartment”, that’s motivation for leaving it and allowing her to guide me on walks with her hand in the crook of my good arm, like old times when we’d flutter around the city together.’

‘You’re reliving old times via flirtatious conversations in the hall? Interesting. Have you broken out the news that y’all are still married?’

I choke on absolutely nothing.

‘No,’ I finally reply. ‘Timing hasn’t been right for that.’

He chuckles lightly. ‘I bet not.’

The thought of telling Eve those words feels like gazing into an abyss, knowing that once I fall into the truth, there may be no coming back. No rescue. No salvation. I’ll possibly lose this woman forever. It’s a bottomless pit of anguish, the kind that breaks you from the inside out and leaves you hollow for the rest of your days. And I did it on purpose – refused to sign the divorce papers, that is. The last thing I wanted was to lose her, but after she left me so coldly, the immature side of me sort of wanted to pay her back for that, so I ran the divorce papers through my shredder. When I never received anything from her or her lawyer again, I assumed it was done. However, Matty asked about it last year, and when I admitted what I’d done, hiswife did some research. They had me over for dinner one night just to announce that Eve and I were still married – for four years at that point. How that happened, I’ve no idea, but at some point, Eve deserves to know.

‘You need anything?’ Matty asks.

‘I’m glad you asked,’ I say, glancing down at the ridiculous neon leggings on my bottom half. ‘Yes, I do. I’m currently wearing Eve’s very gay neighbor Phil’s wardrobe which today consists of pink leggings, and a shirt that has Ryan Gosling’s face on it with the words “Hey, girl”.’ This gets a big hearty laugh out of him.

‘Yeah, it’s hilarious. Please, please tell me you can bring my shit?’

‘Only if you send me a photo so I can prove to the guys you’re still alive – in the leggings and Gosling shirt.’

I groan into the phone. ‘Seriously?’

‘What’s a trip across the country worth to you?’ he teases.

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