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I force a smile. “Of course.”
Liar.
Brian steps away. I say my goodbyes and head to the changing room, collapsing onto the bench inside. What have I gotten myself into? This is going to be the longest few weeks of my life.
The next day, when it finally comes around, dread pools in my stomach. I don’t know how I’m going to get through another workout with Brian. At the gym, he’s all business. His smile is polite but distant, and he barely looks at me as we go through our warm-up. I tell myself this is for the best, that the distance will make things easier. But instead, it only makes the ache in my chest grow. By the time we’re done, the tension ratchets up to an unbearable level. I stare determinedly at the floor, unable to meet his gaze.
“This isn’t easy for me either, you know,” he says softly.
I clench my jaw and don’t respond.
He sighs. “I don’t regret kissing you. I just want you to know that.”
My heart leaps, and I close my eyes against the rush of warmth his words bring. “Brian, don’t. We can’t do this.”
“Why not?” He steps closer, and I’m hit with the scent of him, allspice and musk. It makes my head spin. “Tell me you don’t feel the same, Tanya, and I’ll leave you alone.”
I open my mouth, but the lie won’t come. How can I deny this thing between us when every cell in my body is straining toward his?
Brian makes a noise low in his throat. “That’s what I thought. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. All I can do is think about you.”
“Me too,” I admit. “This sucks.”
“What if…we tried to keep it under wraps just until she leaves? What if we take it one day at a time and hope that in the future, destiny will show us the way?” he asks. I’m left breathless and shaken, my world tilting on its axis. There’s no more denying the truth: I’ve fallen for Brian, hard and fast. And I reach out and give him a kiss.
Chapter nineteen
Bad Timing
Tanya
I walk into Brian’s house, and the minute I step into the foyer, Diane comes down the stairs. For a moment, we stare at each other, completely speechless. “Hi,” she says, tucking a strand of her golden locks behind her ear. She looks at the floor and at the sides of the room—anywhere but at me. Yet, her simple “Hi” is filled with hope. Hope that not all is lost.
“Hey,” I say right back. “Going somewhere?”
“Yeah,” she says. “Thought I’d spend the day at the spa.”
“Sounds good,” I say. “I better get on. Your dad’s training session starts soon.”
The truth is, I want this conversation to end, but I also want to pretend as if everything’s normal. It’d be strange for me to be here, in her house, and not state the obvious.
“About that,” she says, and I take in a deep breath, bracing myself for what she might say next. “I spoke to him. He clarified that things are just professional between you.”
“They are,” I say, supporting the narrative Brian and I decided on. Just then, Brian wanders in from the kitchen. I notice the big smile on his face fade away when he sees Diane. He puts on a stoic front.
“Tanya, you’re late,” he says.
“Sorry, Brian,” I say. “I’ll go get ready and leave you two to catch up. I’ll see you in the gym, Russo,” I say, giving him a curt nod. I walk past the father-daughter duo, careful to maintain a brisk, yet nonchalant walk, even though what I really want to do is run right past them.
Half an hour later, Brian and I are deep into our workout. Diane is supposed to be heading out for the spa soon. I want to know if she’s gone or not, but neither Brian nor I dare to ask in case we raise suspicion. The sun streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Brian’s home gym as I spot him on the bench press. My hands hover under the bar, ready to catch it if his arms give out, but they don’t. They bulge with veins and muscle as he lifts the weight up and down in a steady rhythm.
His eyes meet mine, deep brown and intense, as a bead of sweat rolls down his temple. I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. The tension between us is electric, crackling in the small space between our bodies. I know I should put some distance there, but I can’t seem to move.
“You’re distracting me,” he says, grunting as he lifts the bar again.
“I’m just spotting you,” I protest weakly. We both know that’s not entirely true. Ever since we slept together last week, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about his hands and mouth on my body.
He lifts the bar one more time before racking it and sitting up. I take a hasty step back, but not before he reaches out and grasps my wrist. His fingers are warm and strong around my arm, sending a jolt of heat straight to my core.
