Chasing Clouds

by Kathryn Andrews

  But, after this morning, it’s security that I’m wanting for her. I don’t know why that guy thought it would be okay to come over and walk into her home the morning after our wedding, but hearing her father had the same plan was all I needed to suggest leaving.

  I understand they don’t know me and aren’t happy with how things went down, but to have such a complete lack of respect for her boundaries—and hell, even mine—means the answer is no and always will be no. We do not need that in our lives, period.

  I’ve just given Camille a tour of the rest of the condo and showed her which room will be hers when the front door opens, slams against the wall, and in rushes Zeus. Large black paws thunder against the ground and a floppy tongue heads straight for me—that is, until he sees Camille and changes his course, sliding across the hardwood floor.

  “Reeeeid,” she yells while backing up, eyes big and frantically looking for an exit plan.

  “Zeus, no!” I command, but it doesn’t matter. The seventy-pound fur ball leaps into the air, slams into Camille’s chest, and they both go flying backward. She ducks her head and rolls into the fetal position to keep from being trampled.

  “Oh my God! I’m so sorry.” Jack and I both move at the same time. He runs over and grabs Zeus by the collar as he drowns Camille in slobbery kisses. Giggles and squeals peal out from under him as I bend down and pick her up. The dog is almost as big as she is.

  “It’s okay, no worries.” She laughs, wiping her face off before moving to scratch behind his ears. His tail thumps hard on the floor, and I swear the dog is smiling at her.

  “Dude, what are you doing here?” I shake my head and give him a look that straight up tells him I’m pissed.

  “Zeus heard you come in and wanted to say hi.” He shrugs his shoulders then narrows his eyes, as if to say, What the hell is going on? I ignore him and instead glare at the dog, who really does look happy to see me. The fury coursing through me recedes, and I squat down so Zeus can pad over and get some love.

  Jack and I have always had an open door policy, but now that she’s here, it needs to be amended. “Whatever. Camille, this is Jack.” I stand and wave at him. “Jack, Camille.”

  She steps forward and holds out her hand. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you.”

  He looks at her hand, chuckles, and then pulls her into a giant hug as he plants a huge kiss on her cheek. She again squeals and I abruptly move to pull her out of his arms and into mine. She feels so small up next to me, so foreign. Not only do I not bring girls home, I never cuddle with them either, not in private or in public. It gives them the wrong impression, but with Camille, it’s different. She is different.

  “What the hell.” I glare at him.

  “Just showing the lady here where Zeus gets it from.” He grins and she smiles back, one of her real smiles, not the stiff socialite expression.

  “Well, stop. Not cool.” I rub my free hand across my hip to shake off some of the uneasiness I just felt. All of this is pushing my senses into overdrive, and I feel out of control. We may have played the part yesterday and slept together last night, but touching her is not something I’m used to, and yet I can’t seem to stop.

  “So, the rumors are true then?” He eyes Camille and looks at both of our left hands, his brows furrowing just a little. “You got married.”

  He says this as a statement, but his eyes are locked onto mine, his gaze questioning. Jack is my best friend, has been since the day I joined the team. We’re with each other daily, and I do mean every single day. If anyone on the team would be suspicious of this marriage and know something is up, it would be him.

  “I did.”

  “Wow, none of us saw this coming, especially me. I thought you were going to see your brother.” His tone is a mixture of irritation and disappointment. “I mean, shit, man, I live across the hall from you, know just about everything there is to know about you, and not once have I seen you bring a girl home, much less her.” He waves his fingers in her direction almost dismissively.

  Camille drops her head and moves an inch closer to me, pressing her side up against mine. I know she feels guilty about me finding myself in this situation with her, and now she’s witnessing some of the fallout. She doesn’t want the people in my life to be upset with me.

  Jack sees her subtle movement and his eyebrows rise in alarm. “No.” He throws out his hands. “I didn’t mean it like that—I wasn’t saying you and him . . . ugh,” he groans. “It’s just Reid is a private person, and well, I thought I knew him really well, so I’m just not sure what to think of this.”

  “You really don’t need to think anything of it. Just say congratulations.” I nod, glaring at him, hoping he picks up on my cues. I’ll give him just enough details later to pacify him. He doesn’t need to know the whole story; no one does.

  There’s a weighted pause as he assesses us, and Camille’s hand moves around my back and twists in my shirt over my waist. He sees her wrap herself around me, and then all of a sudden his face relaxes and transforms.

  “Of course, man. I’m so happy for you both. Congratulations.” He smiles at us, his eyes drifting to her, and my arm tightens around her shoulders. She smiles back shyly, and my heart thumps hard in my chest.

  She’s smiling at him again with one of her real smiles. Jealousy spikes through me that he’s on the receiving end of it, and I know this is not good. I shouldn’t be caring who she smiles at. She’s not mine, at least not really, so it shouldn’t matter.

  “So, do you have any friends?” he asks, winking at her.

  She giggles and Zeus’s tail starts thumping against the floor at the sound. He’s moved from me to her, to sit at her feet.

  “Well, that didn’t take you long,” I say, shaking my head.

  “What! Doesn’t hurt to ask.” He grins.

  “I do, but they’re spoken for. Sorry.” She shrugs her shoulders and places one hand on my chest. Reaching up, I grab her hand and hold it to me. The move is familiar, kind of intimate. Jack sees it but doesn’t say anything more that might upset her. For that, I’ll have to buy him a beer next time we’re out.

  “She has a twin sister.” I smirk at him. Camille is gorgeous, and I know he sees that.

  “Really!” His eyebrows shoot straight up. “Identical?” He’s looking at her so hopefully.

  “Yes,” she answers.

  He clutches his heart like he’s in pain. “Please, please, please tell me she’s coming to visit.”

  “She’s not,” Camille answers tentatively.

  “Damn, that’s too bad. Well, if she does, tell her to come not this weekend but next. Bryan texted me earlier—mark your calendars, Billy is hosting a newlywed party for y’all.”

  “Of course he is,” I mutter.

  I’m trying hard not to feel annoyed, wanting to be appreciative instead. Billy is one of the nicest guys I have ever met. Instead of a team mom, he’s like a team dad, and he’s always doing things for the guys, remembering birthdays and other random stuff. Plus, his wife, Missy, is just the sweetest. I was just hoping to keep this marriage a little more on the down-low, not shove it out in the open so much.

  “I’ll text him later and thank him.”

  Then it occurs to me: the team PR representative will probably be there, and this will satisfy the higher-ups. It’ll get them off my back, at least for now. Billy suddenly becomes one of my favorite people.

  “All right, I’ll get out of the way, but tomorrow we need to be in the gym by seven.”

  “Yeah, I’m in.” I haven’t been in two days and I can feel the stalled energy building up in my system. I need to work out, and hard.

  “Come on, Zeus, it’s time for a walk.” The dog’s ears perk up and he trots to the door. “We’ll catch y’all later.” With a flick of his wrist, they’re gone, and the door slams behind him.

  “I’m sorry about that.” I release Camille and step away from her.

  “Don’t be. He seems nice.” She runs her hand through her hair
, and the scent of coconut drifts my way.

  “He is nice. We’re kind of like roommates who aren’t actually roommates. I’ll make sure he doesn’t walk in again, just in case.”

  Her cheeks turn a nice shade of pink, but she smiles at me gratefully. Really, I just want her to feel comfortable here. I want her to feel like my home is her home, at least while she’s staying in it.

  “So what do we do now?” she asks, looking around and eyeing the couch. After the shitstorm of communication I’ve received today, plus Patrick this morning and on her phone—which she hasn’t made a move to power back on—it’s obvious neither of us wants to leave.

  “How do you feel about a Netflix binge and food delivery?”

  She lights up. “Sounds perfect. I think I’ll change my clothes first and get more comfortable.”

  The thought of her taking her clothes off just one room away has me fisting my hands. Images of her from last night flash through my mind, and I swallow at the thought of touching her bare skin again. Swallowing down the desire that just came over me, I inwardly scold myself. This girl doesn’t need me adding to her already confusing situation or making her feel awkward. As I realized this morning, she needs a friend—just a friend. “Yeah, I’ll do the same.”

  “Thank you, Reid.” She smiles, and I can’t help but watch as she walks down the hallway and disappears into her room.

  THROUGH THE WALLS of the condo, I hear Reid’s alarm go off. It’s six-thirty. In. The. Morning. This is the start of my new routine. I say mine, because I’m pretty certain he already maintained this schedule before I showed up.

  Every morning he starts his day with a huge helping of scrambled eggs, vegetables, and a protein shake, a breakfast he’s previously made and portioned out. Then he’s out the door and off to the team’s training facility with Jack. Four and a half hours later they return and he makes another huge protein shake. After that, he and Jack watch game films of other teams and specific players. Usually they eat lunch together then both head off to take a nap. For dinner, I cook for us, not because I feel I have to, but because he’s been so kind to me and I want to. We eat dinner, watch some TV, and then head off to bed.

  I’ve never given much thought to what it’s like being a professional athlete, but he’s extremely dedicated to his career and his lifestyle. From the hours he puts in and the amount of sleep he gets to the total ratio of grams of protein, carbohydrates, and fat, he’s totally committed, and I see why he said he doesn’t have time for relationships. Plus, this is just the offseason.

  As for me, I don’t know what I’m doing.

  We got here on Sunday, and now it’s Friday.

  Day after day, I wander around his condo, looking at his things. I try to keep my stuff hidden and out of his way; he was so kind to bring me here, and I don’t want to implode his life or wear out my welcome. I’ve admired all the little things he has that make the condo his, but it still feels kind of sterile, more like a fancy hotel suite than a home. Mentally, I’ve redecorated some of it with pieces I could make, and maybe toward the end of our time together I’ll approach him about it as a way to say thank you.

  Eventually, I turned my phone back on and deleted every message and every text. I didn’t listen to or read a single one of them, no matter who it was from.

  Guilt is a funny thing. Even though I know I wasn’t wrong in not marrying Patrick, all week I’ve been second-guessing how things went down. Mentally, I’ve been creating pro-and-con lists in my head, like: he was my friend and I loved him, but if he loved me then why did he treat me so terribly? I broke my word when I told him I was in this for life, but he broke his word to me the minute he touched my cousin. I also know Patrick and my father never would have let me leave that church without saying “I do” to someone. Too many of their friends were there, and a canceled wedding to one of their own because I changed my mind about Patrick is way more offensive than me supposedly falling in love with someone else. They would have called it cold feet, and they would have forced my hand. It had to happen this way with Reid, or it wouldn’t have happened at all. I keep trying to remind myself that things will be okay, that I will be okay, but by changing the path my life was on, I feel like I’ve somehow altered my character, who I am at the core.

  Maybe that’s a list I should be working on: who am I, and what’s important to me?

  “Camille?” Reid calls from the door of the condo.

  “In the kitchen!”

  Zeus, who’s been staying here with me and keeping me company while the guys are gone, hears the door open and Reid’s voice at the same time. Ears perk up, tail starts wagging, and he takes off to find him.

  “Hey, Zeus. You keeping my girl company?” he says, speaking softly to him.

  My girl.

  I know he’s just talking to the dog, but hearing him think of me that way, even if it’s not in a romantic way, has me unlocking emotions that have been shut away for a long time.

  “Let’s take you home,” he says to the dog in a silly voice.

  His leash and collar jingle as Reid grabs them off the counter, and the two of them make their way out of the condo and across the hall. I’m glad for the moment; it lets me soak in his words. Patrick called me his girl once to a group of his friends that were down visiting from Boston, where his college is located, and it felt more like ownership, like I was his possession. Having Reid speak about me this way . . . it makes me feel more like I’m his friend, someone who is adored by him. I haven’t felt adored in a really long time, and I didn’t realize how badly I needed to. One day, if Reid ever decides to break his rules and settle down, some lucky girl will get to call him her guy. I sure hope she appreciates what she’s getting.

  Once again, the door opens and closes. Rounding the corner, Reid walks into the kitchen, and just like every time I see him, I want to swallow my tongue. He’s wearing a dry-fit shirt that shows off his perfect huge arms, athletic shorts with a compression pair underneath, and sneakers—all the same brand name, one of his sponsors.

  “Hey.” I smile at him as he takes a seat at the breakfast bar. “No nap today, huh?” I ask as he eyes the food I’m cooking.

  “No, on Fridays we usually have an afternoon offensive team meeting. Strategies, planning, and crap like that for the offseason.”

  “Gotcha.” In a bowl, I whisk together the ingredients for a mustard vinaigrette dressing.

  “It smells great in here.” He rubs his hand through his dark hair, making it perfectly imperfect.

  “Thanks. I hope you don’t mind, but I saw where you order your food from, so I opened an account and played around with delivery service today. I thought I’d make something different for you for dinner.”

  His brows slant together with hesitancy. “What is it?”

  A grin slips out as I tease him. “Don’t you worry, I didn’t deviate from your super strict diet. I made a cauliflower crust pizza and a salad.”

  He groans. “I haven’t had pizza in forever.”

  “Well, don’t get too excited—we haven’t tasted it yet.” The timer on the oven dings, so I grab a mitt and pull it out. I have to admit, I think it looks great.

  “Princess, if that pizza tastes anything like the other food you’ve cooked this week, it’s going to be a slam dunk.”

  The compliment hits me deep. Patrick never complimented my food. He expected it to be ready when he got home, and that was the end of that.

  “Thank you,” I say, keeping my back to him so he can’t see what his words mean to me.

  “I’m the one who should be kissing your feet and thanking you. I haven’t had someone cook for me in a long time, and I’m starting to feel a little spoiled.” He watches me as I slice the pie then lay it on the bar between us along with the salad.

  “So how are you doing?” he asks a little cautiously while loading up his plate.

  “I don’t know.” It’s the most honest answer I can give him. He nods, thinking about this as he dives into his sala
d. Silence falls over us as I sit down across from him and we both start eating.

  “What did you do today?” he asks a few minutes later.

  I can’t look at him, so I pick up my knife and cut my pizza into small bites. I’m not sure why I feel ashamed to tell him I did nothing, but I do. “Same thing as yesterday.”

  “Hmm,” he mumbles as he devours more than half of the pizza by picking it up and using his hands. I can feel him watching me, and I’m torn between blushing because I like how it feels to be looked at by him and blushing because I’m embarrassed.

  “I’ll get there, I promise. I just need a little more time.”

  “There’s no rush. You’ve got at least two months here with me.”

  My eyes lift to his. The green in them is warm, relaxed, not irritated and cold. “Are you sure this isn’t a problem for you? I’ve invaded your space and I feel bad.”

  “What do you think?” He glances down at his now empty plate then back up at me. I can’t help but giggle and feel pleased by how much he liked the food. “Don’t feel bad. I don’t, and surprisingly, I don’t mind having you here.”

  My eyes shoot to his and he rolls his eyes.

  “What I mean is, I’ve lived by myself for so long, I thought it would be weird having someone else share my space with me, but it hasn’t been weird with you at all. It’s been easy.” He shrugs his shoulders then gets up to rinse his plate and put it in the dishwasher.

  He’s right—it has been easy. We haven’t tripped over each other at all. In fact, we’ve just blended together like we’ve known each other forever.

  “Have you talked to your sister yet?” he asks, leaning back against the counter and crossing one ankle over the other.

  “I did, a little earlier,” I say, shoving the last of my food in my mouth.