Page 144 of When We Were Us
“Can’t say I’ve ever video chatted, though. You’re gonna have to teach me how to use it.”
Well, that’s adorable.
“Ok. We’ll use my phone and FaceTime Finn really quickly so I can show you how it works.”
He nods and lifts his head to plant a kiss on my lips. Then, he drags me up his body so that I’m sprawled on top of him.
In the dim light, I roll over and feel around the nightstand for my phone. My muscles are slightly stiff, but it's that type of muscle soreness that lets you know you’ve worked hard. I find my phone and see a few texts from Hank. I grin sleepily and open our message thread.
Hank
Morning, beautiful. You looked so peaceful, and I didn’t want to wake you.
I left food for Tucker out on the counter. I'll see you in a couple of days.
I love you.
My phone dings with an incoming text from Ginger. Before I can send a reply, it starts ringing in my hand and her picture fills the screen.
“You’re up early.” I know from her text earlier in the week that she’s in Atlanta for work this week and the boys are with Peter. Sure, it’s two hours ahead of Timber Forge, but it’s a Saturday and I know her penchant for sleeping in when her boys are with their dad.
“I’m a boxer now,” she states proudly.
“What does that mean, exactly?” A laugh escapes me. “And what does it have to do with being up early when you can sleep in?”
“Boxing, Wrenley. You know, gloves, mouth guards, punchy-punchy?”
“What the hell is punchy-punchy, and what have you done with my best friend? Ginger, you hate sweating.”
She hums out an agreement and I can hear the TV on low in the back, then the deep timbre of a male voice.
She waits for a beat and then whispers, “You’re right, I do. Unless it involves a six-foot-two, blonde hair, blue-eyed boxer named Wade with a body like a Greek god.”
I bolt upright in the bed, startling Tucker. “What?!”
“Ohhh my God, Wren… You havenoidea.”
“Ginger! Wait…aren’t you still in Georgia?” My best friend has been in a bit of a slump the last year. Her divorce won’t be final for another two months, but she’s been separated for nearly eighteen months and has been on a handful of dates that have all ended in disaster.
The sound of a door opening and then a muffled scratch of her covering the phone fills my ears. A few seconds later, she comes back as another door closes on her end.
“Sorry. Yes, and I met him in the bar a few nights ago. “
“Was that him?” I nearly screech. “Tell me everything.” I’m giddy for her.
“All I’m saying is I now know why Adrian put up with Rocky’s shit for so long.”
I tilt my head and scrunch up my face, even though she can’t see me. “What does that mean?”
She grunts in frustration and then laughs. “Because boxers are hot as fuck, babe. Duh. He gets the shit beat out of him for a living. Do you know how hot that is?”
I burst out laughing. “Uh, no.” I can’t imagine watching Hank get beat up and I certainly can’t imagine being turned on by it.
“Ok, so, maybe him being beat up isn’t the sexy part, but there’s a whole lot of power behind those hips to throw punches like that. If you know what I mean.”
“Ginger!” I exclaim. “Are you getting railed by a boxer?” Ginger has always dated white-collar men. Even when she was dating Peter off and on, back before they were exclusive, she never dated anyone who didn’t work in upper management. All the guys I had seen her with drove fancy sports cars and were more comfortable in a suit and tie than in jeans and a T-shirt.
“Oh, honey, I can’t even feel my toes this morning.”
