Page 89 of Keepsakes and Kismet

Tomorrow?

Tomorrow.

And repeat.

I do another shoulder press, forcing out a gritty breath when I slowly bring the dumbbells down. Two more presses, then I’ll start on bicep curls. Carter’s been on my ass this whole session, and I know my muscles will be screaming tomorrow.

Carter claps me on the shoulder. “So, Peyton’s great.”

She’s more than great, but Carter probably doesn’t need a whole podcast on the subject, so I just agree. “Yeah, she is.”

His eyes start wandering around the room nervously, and he rubs a hand down his face. “And you’re handling her, erm, health stuff okay?”

I freeze. “How do you know about her health stuff?”

“Just at Thanksgiving dinner. She kind of mentioned something about it while you were getting the pies.”

My eyes widen. Wow. I’m surprised Peyton was so open about her touch aversion with my family. A sense of pride overwhelms me. She must’ve really felt comfortable with them, even without me there.

I put the 35 pound dumbbells back on the rack and reach for the 25s. “All I’ll say is that we’ve been working on it together. She’s doing really good. But I’d rather not talk about this when she’s not here.”

Carter still looks wary, but holds his hands up. “Fair enough. I’m glad it’s going well. We really like her for you. You’re not a wet blanket anymore. It’s odd.”

Be that as it may, I won’t ever be the same as I was before. My stomach drops when I think of the anniversary in just a few days. I’ve gone back and forth on if I should tell Peyton what happened beforehand, but ultimately decided that I need to see this one through myself. I want to share the details with her when I’m more available emotionally—not when I’m stressed.

I set the weights down after completing the first set. “I still have PTSD, Carter.”

Carter nods and checks his watch, timing my rest. “True. But before, you were like a soaked blanket, drenched and weighed down. And now, it’s like you’re a microfiber towel with water-wicking properties.” He pauses and turns to face me. “The water being your PTSD, and the wicking being your emotional capacity for it.”

I sigh. “I’ll literally do anything if you stop talking.”

He smirks. “Rest’s over. Two more sets.”

“Asshole,” I mutter, straining as I curl the dumbbells up.

“I’d be offended, but your insults just mean I’m doing my job,” he retorts.

I finish the final rep of my set and put down the weights. “Hey. I forgot to mention something at dinner the other night.”

“What is it?”

I exhale through my teeth. “I met DT at the Harvest Festival.”

“Yeah.” Carter snorts. “And I went on a date with Zendaya last night at Francesco’s.”

“I’m being honest. I’ll show you a picture. He even told me to call him Daniel.”

He stops moving entirely, narrowing his eyes. “You’re actually serious?”

“Yep. On Zebra, I swear it. I’ll show you a picture after this set. He came to visit Peyton.”

Carter’s jaw drops. “DT visited Peyton? Your Peyton? How are you not freaking out right now?”

“What do you mean?”

He purses his lips to one side, dropping his chin like he’s about to reveal a hard truth to me. “Cal. I don’t want to knock your confidence or anything, but… It’s DT.”

I know exactly what he’s getting at, but I’m having too much fun. “What’s your point? Are you saying I’m not as good as him? That Peyton would leave me for him?”