Like I could forget that either.
The paint after the reconstruction is still so fresh, it almost masks the scent of Loren’s shampoo. Emphasis onalmost. Even the bleach in the towels can’t erase her.
And yeah, I probably shouldn’t have used her shower this morning. But I just wanted to smell her, you know?Withoutsticking my stupid nose directly in her carrot-cake hair.
“Fine.” I sling the towel over my sweat-soaked shoulder and sink onto a bench. “I’ll skip round two on the treadmill,” I say. “I guess I just needed a little extra push today.”
Dex sits across from me, arches a brow. “Is it the wife?”
“Nah.” I drop my head, give it a little shake, pretend the wordwifedoesn’t make me dizzy. “Loren’s great,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Because if there’s trouble in paradise, you can tell me,” he says. “We married men gotta stick together.”
“There’s no trouble.” I lift my face again, centering myself. “And no paradise.”
“So you say.” Dex sends me a crooked smile. “But I promise you, I’ve seen the way her eyes follow you around a room. And I hear the stuff she tells Sayla when they forget I’m around. Like things you’ve said that made Loren laugh that, frankly, aren’t even all that funny.”
“I’m always hilarious,” I deadpan.
“Of course.” He chuckles. “But I can read between the lines, man. Loren’s got real feelings for you. Big ones. And yeah, maybe she’s not saying the words out loud, but so what?” He hitches his shoulders. “Neither are you.”
I push out a laugh. “You’re right about that part.”
“Your wife gives herself away,” he says. “So maybe she wantsyouto figure it out. Just think about it.”
My wife.
On the outside, I grunt. Inside? I'm conducting a mental audit of evidence to back up Dex’s claims. Like Loren’s silly midday check-in texts, full of inside jokes. Or the way our hands sometimes graze when we brush past each other in the hallway. Her legs draped over mine on the couch in the media room. The warmth of her gaze across the kitchen.
I’ve come close to kissing her more than once. And instead of pulling away, she always leans in. We’re sharing space together. Sharing a life. Our enormous house somehow feels small, but in a good way, when we’re both home.
Home.
“Yeah, I see that little smile on your face,” Dex snarks. “You’re figuring things out, aren’t you?”
“Stop staring at me.” I frown. “It’s creepy.”
“You just gotta trust, man.” He spreads his hands. “Maybeshedoesn’t fully realize it yet. Maybe you don’t either.” He wags his brows. “But your boy does.”
My mouth slants. “And you’re the boy I’m supposed to trust?”
“Indeed.” He heads to the state-of-the-art water station to refill his bottle. “I’m a pro at understanding the complicated machinations of women.”
This pulls a laugh out of me. “Expert, huh? Then how come you had to get stuck in a cabin with Sayla for her to realize she didn’t despise you?”
“All part of the plan, my man.” He nods. Drinks. Gasps. “Now we just need one for you.”
“A plan?” I hesitate. “What kind of plan?”
He sets down his bottle. “Your birthday’s coming up,” he says. “Big day, turning thirty. New decade. New opportunities.” He winks. “Have you and Loren talked about how you want to celebrate?”
“We’ve been kinda busy getting married.”
“Bah.” He waves me off. “That was weeks ago. Time for a new party.”
I shake my head. “Loren’s pretty focused on her dad these days, helping him settle in, you know? We haven’t exactly talked about parties.”
“Yeah, that makes sense.” Dex’s brows crowd in, and he’s quiet for a beat. Unusual for Dex. “So what’s her old man like?” he asks.