Page 27 of Delicate Storm

They all think I’m suffering. That she left me. That it came out of nowhere. But the truth is we both checked out of our relationshipwaybefore the thought of cheating entered her mind.

And the other more unfortunate truth is that I’ve never wanted any of those women. Not even once.

Yet I can’t stop thinking about Paige.

I’m convinced it’s because she’s everywhere. I can’t escape her while other women simply come and go.

In the space of a weekend, I saw her in the lobby, the bar, the courtyard. I saw her in the damn street when I was walking home. She’salwaysthere, and I find myself waiting to see her…expectingit. It’s driving me fucking crazy.

What is it about her?I’m a private person, while she tells me everything. I think before I speak, and she doesn’t have a filter. She’s younger than I am. I think. She’s a model. Or a businesswoman. I haven’t figured that out yet, but I’m leaningtoward the former based on her stunning looks and what appears to be a designer wardrobe.

But even then, what the hell would I know?

The only thing I’m certain of is that she has no idea who I am. Every time we cross paths, she calls me Window-Seat Guy, and on the one occasion she saw me posing for a photo with a group of kids, she frowned, confusion clear in her expression.

And I like that.

It doesn’t happen often and it means she has no idea about my life…or Macy. I’m just some guy she met on a plane.

I like being that guy. At least, for the few minutes I’m in her presence. I don’t want to be him forever; I’d miss Isaac too much.

After checking my phone to find it message free, I step onto the treadmill and stare at myself in the mirrored wall of the gym, my mind whirring during one of the rare times I get to be alone.

I jog for a few minutes, trying hard to get out of my head, but it’s no use. Alone time means time to think, and time to think can be dangerous.

I increase my pace to a run, hoping that will help, but I’ve barely made it a mile when the door beeps, signaling someone’s entry, and I groan. Out loud. I’m not at all worried about them hearing how annoyed I am. No one ever uses the gym at this time. In fact, hardly anyone uses the gym. Period.

There goes my solace.

With another sigh, I continue to run, pretending I’m not staring at the entry, hoping it’s a cleaner or someone that’s never watched a game of football in their life and has no clue who I am.

And when the door swings open, I’m safe. On the football front anyway. But I’m in trouble for a whole other reason.

As I was saying, Paige is everywhere, and today for a change of scenery, or to make things worse, she’s at the gym.

I don’t look away in time—probably because I can’t stop myself from checking her out—and our eyes lock in the mirror. Her jaw drops before her ever-moving mouth pulls into a grin. “Okay, the universe has to be messing with us. Don’t you think?”

“Nope,” I lie. While I don’t believe in that crap, it is strange that she’s everywhere I turn. Showing up whenever I’m thinking about her. “We live in the same building; it makes sense that we’d see each other often.” I’m not sure if I’m trying to justify the logic to her or myself, but I’m going with it.

Paige thins her lips as she contemplates my response. “Do you regularly see your neighbors?”

“Yep.”Fuck no.And even if I did, I sure as shit wouldn’t notice them. I don’t think I’d recognize any of them if they knocked on my door asking for sugar.

“You could be right.” She shrugs, no longer pushing me. “I’m used to living in New York. Everyone was always so busy there. No one ever stopped for long enough to get to know one another, me included. People move at a slower pace here.”

“Not if you come from a small town.”Dammit, why am I still talking? She hooks me in every time. I never let anything interrupt a workout. Ever. Except Isaac. This ismyspace. My escape and yet…I’ve fucking stopped running.When did I even push the pause button?

“Ooh.” Paige’s grin widens, appearing positively giddy. “Are you a small-town guy?”

Fuck. “I was. Now, I live here.”

“What’s that like?”

“Being from a small town?”

“Yes. We had a house in the Hamptons, but I don’t think that’s really the same thing. There’s always thousands of people there when I go and—”

“It’s not the same. My town hadhundredsof people, not thousands.”

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