Page 45 of A Me and You Thing
I slip into my tennis shoes and kneel down as I tie them.
“Let’s go!” the girls chant.
They love when we go out for a jog. I think it might be their favorite part of the day. Normally we go in the mornings. But our day was filled with doctor appointments and errands, so here it is, the end of the day and we’re finally fitting in our daily outing.
I hear the key rattle in the lock, and realize Sawyer is already home. I was hoping to fit my run in before he returned.
His face registers surprise when he sees the girls in the jogging stroller.
“Daddy!” they chime, holding out their arms for a hug.
Sawyer leans down and covers them with kisses and hugs. “Look at you two, bundled up and ready to go.”
“We go fast!”
“I bet you do.” He looks up at me. I’m wearing a tank top and leggings, the kind of exercise outfit that leaves nothing to the imagination. Yet his eyes remain on my face and don’t wander.
He doesn’t see me. He doesn’t have it in him to notice another woman yet. He still mourns Quinn. I know he always will. I don’t expect that to change. I mourn for her too.
One more reason why I’m so impressed with him. Living in the same house has only increased my high opinion of him. He really is one of the good guys. And loyal to a fault. I can’t hate him for not noticing me. It’s one of the things I love about him.
“You’re going out?” he questions.
“Sorry, we normally go in the morning. I hoped to be back before you arrived home.”
“No problem.” He thinks for a moment. “Mind if I join you? I missed my run this morning as well.”
My heart races as though I’ve already ran around the block ten times. While we often watch nursery rhymes on YouTube with the girls when he gets home from work, it’s never for more than an hour or so. And he always sits in his recliner which is about two hundred miles away from where I sit on the couch. Even though spending this time together is still a breakthrough of sorts, we still live completely separate lives. During dinner and the bedtime routine, I’m still given my “free time.”
Don’t want it, don’t need it.
I suppose I would’ve been disappointed in him if he’d tried to hook up with me right away. Massively so. He wouldn’t be the man I believe him to be. His behavior has been above reproach. To my pleasure and to my dismay.
But going out on a run together, this is new. And exciting. And groundbreaking.
“That would be wonderful. The girls will love it.”
“Give me just a few to change.” He holds up a bag of Chinese take-out. “I’ll put your dinner in the fridge for later.”
Between the Grandma Gang’s oft delivered down home cooking and Sawyer’s belief that I’ll starve unless he brings me take-out, I need my daily jog or I’d weigh two tons by now.
Sawyer is downstairs in five minutes flat, wearing a sleeveless t-shirt and shorts. I’m not a saint like him. My eyes check him out from head to toe. When my eyes travel back up to his, I realize he’s watching me, knowing what I just did. His eyebrows furrow slightly, as if he’s worried.
He shakes it off. “Ready?”
“Yep. Let’s go.”
“Go! Go! Go!” The girls giggle as they repeat their favorite word. They love to go, whether it’s to the grocery store or to the post office, or especially to the park. They love to go and do.
Me too. And now that they’re older, it’s easier, even though there are two of them and one of me. The so-called terrible twos are fast approaching, but so far they’re enchanted by the outside world and behave awfully well for their ages. They’re sweet-natured and not overly rambunctious, which suits me perfectly. I don’t think I could handle the tantrums I often see from other children whenever we go to the park. No, thank you.
We step onto the front porch and Sawyer helps me get the jogging stroller down the steps. Once on the front walkway, I ask, “What’s with the white picket fence?” He had it installed recently. While it suits the beach vibe and looks nice with the shingled house, it feels a little outdated to me.
He seems lost in thought as he stares into space. “If the girls accidently get out the front door, the fence will keep them safe.”
I don’t believe him. I’m not sure why. That’s a logical excuse. A smart one too. But I don’t feel like he’s telling the truth. The front door is Fort Knox. It has three locks. Then there’s the security screen door, which has a dead bolt. They’d have to be Houdini to escape. Besides, it’s such an odd thing to have installed when there are many other things that need to be updated around the house.
Strange.
