Page 32 of Ripped

I hold out my hand and he puts his in it. “Life’s not a competition, darling. It’s not a race. We stop and start all the time. We can change directions at any point.” What I’m saying is so common sense and yet it feels like I’m hearing them for the first time.

I can stop and start again. I can change directions at any point. I’m not done with living just because I’m a certain age and lost my life partner. I’m not relegated to merely existing. The words echo through me and the truth of them hurts me to the core. My thumb goes to my wedding ring.

I am moving forward though, aren’t I? Slower than a glacier perhaps, but it is happening. Because of Connor.

He’s here for a reason. Maybe so I can help him through a tough time. Maybe so he can lure me back into life again. Even if it’s only for a season and then we go our separate ways, I know, deep down, that this is what we both need right now.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CONNOR

I get off the subway in Midtown and walk toward the hotel where I’m supposed to meet my boss, Rick. My eyes are glued to the sidewalk under my feet and my hood is pulled up over my head to keep out this last blast of winter.

After dinner last night, we had another session of Remedy Donnie’s Woeful Knowledge of Popular Films and watched Casablanca. No more giant bowls of popcorn to cock block us. We curled up nice and close on the couch, me big-spooning Donnie, tucked in under a blanket.

Donnie fell asleep halfway through—slacker.

There was a moment on the second-floor landing when we were on our way to bed. I was in front of my room and Donnie had one foot on the step leading up to his on the third floor. I held my breath, heart racing, waiting for Donnie to decide what to do.

We hadn’t done anything more than some kissing and cuddling all evening, but that was enough for my dick to get presumptuous. It’d been more than a little chubby during the movie and there was no way Donnie hadn’t felt it on the couch.

Still, I wanted him to initiate. Things aren’t at all cut and dry between us. I’m not so naïve to believe that just because I broke up with Miles, I don’t still have shit I need to work through. And then, there’s Roger.

I feel a lot more comfortable in the house now. It’s starting to feel like home. Every now and then though, I’m reminded of Roger and how his presence still lingers here. In the wedding ring Donnie hasn’t taken off. In the office across from my room. I don’t know how Donnie feels about all that. I’m a little afraid to ask.

Donnie gave me a goodnight kiss before he went upstairs. It was sweet, with just enough heat that I melted in his arms. When he pulled away, there was a promise in his eyes that settled my heart and let me breathe. I lay in bed afterward with the lights off and the door closed, wondering what Donnie was doing upstairs. I woke up this morning wishing I had him in my arms. He met me downstairs with a bowl of overnight oats and a thorough good morning kiss.

We have time. There’s no rush. Neither of us is going anywhere.

A hand grabs my arm and I spin around, hand raised to fend off my attacker.

“Hey, it’s just me.”

I sigh, heart pounding, all senses on high alert. “Jesus, Rick, you scared the crap out of me.”

He shrugs like reaching out and grabbing random strangers is something he does every day. “I called your name. You walked right past me.”

I look up and see the hotel’s entrance is half a block behind us. “Oh, sorry. I was distracted.”

“Yeah, no shit. Come on.” Rick leads me back to the hotel and the dimly lit lobby.

The place is sleek and trendy with shiny white tiles on the floor and shiny white panels on the walls. Oddly shaped lights hang from the ceiling, glowing pink, then blue, then purple. White stuffed couches sit next to several of those giant egg-shaped chairs.

A hotel manager meets us by the reception desk. We were hired to produce new videos and photographs for their website, and now we’re here to scope out the place and design a production plan. Jackson, the manager, takes us up to one of the guest rooms. The suite we’re in is large and has the same vibes as the lobby. All white. Space age-y. Kinda bland except for the view.

It faces west out over the Hudson River toward New Jersey. The late winter sun reflects off the water, making it shimmer. The sunset from here would be amazing. If I put a couple actors by the window, I’ll get some fantastic silhouettes.

My phone buzzes and I pull it out of my pocket. Maybe it’s Donnie, checking in. Maybe he wants to see if I want spaghetti squash or zucchini noodles for dinner.

It’s Wyatt. He must be fed up with waiting for me. Well, he can wait a little longer. I send it to voicemail.

Two seconds later, a text message comes through.

Wyatt: You can’t ignore me forever.

I know I can’t, but I haven’t figured out what I want to do yet.

Wyatt: If I don’t hear from you, I’m going to respond to the granting committee and take the interview myself.

---