Page 43 of Axe Backwards
I focused on the road in front of me. The last thing I wanted to do was trip and fall on my ass. Especially while Noah was over here doing a Navy Seal workout.
As we got to the end of Main Street, he shifted into a jog, opening up his stride and looking completely at ease.
Tess giggled happily and waved at passing cars.
“Plus, this is a good way to show the town we’re dating.” He saluted to Ricky, who was out on his mail route. “Figured it was best to get in front of it.”
He wasn’t wrong. Dozens of people had already seen us, including a school bus full of kids. I had no doubt the news would spread.
There were bound to be plenty of awkward conversations, but at least I didn’t have to figure out how to casually mention that I was now dating Noah Hebert. Since the decision in the car yesterday, he and I hadn’t spoken of it. We hadn’t laid out rules or parameters or even discussed the details. He’d just agreed tobe my fake boyfriend, like a knight in a backward baseball cap and a baby carrier.
As grateful as I was for his easy agreement, we couldn’t wing it. We had to have a plan if we wanted it to be believable. But the whole thing made me cringe. Aunt Lou was right when she said this was childish. Me, a professional woman in her thirties, needed a fake boyfriend? I had a 401(k) and a nighttime skincare routine. I was supposed to be past all this juvenile shit.
But the thought of facing my family without him by my side made me ill. So I’d figure out how to embrace the reality that I was a hot mess and play along.
We jogged past neighborhoods and Baxter Park, then crossed over the footbridge toward Lake Millinocket. Noah smiled and chatted with Tess and made me feel at ease.
Graham loved running too. He had tried to guilt me into training for marathons on several occasions. These conversations usually dovetailed with his “concern” about the amount of chocolate I consumed or the state of my hips. The man had a whole boatload of concerns. If only I could go back and tell him to shove them up his ass.
As much as he loved it, he never ran with me. I was far too average to be caught dead exercising with. He was mister super serious, wearing five-hundred-dollar training shoes and a fancy GPS watch.
So, post-divorce, I’d sworn it off. Who needed that kind of psychological torture in their lives? This morning, though, with the sun shining and a light breeze? I felt great. We were moving at a snail’s pace, but Noah seemed happy and content.
And I didn’t feel as awful as I’d expected. In fact, I was filled with a powerful sensation I wasn’t sure I’d ever experienced. The muscles rippling in my running partner’s arms were a welcome distraction. It was unfair how good he looked jogging. How goodhe looked doing anything, really. The broad shoulders, the dark stubble, and the tattoos were unfairly attractive.
Throw in a baby stroller, and it was a good thing I’d sworn off men.
Averygood thing.
We went up the junction at Route 45 before turning back toward town.
“Can I ask you something?” he said after several minutes of silence.
I nodded. How he could have complex conversations while exercising confounded me.
“Do you still have feelings for Graham?”
I winced. Our friendship had blossomed so naturally, and there weren’t many topics that were off limits. But as with every other conversation I had about my marriage, this one made me feel even worse.
“No.” I practically spat the word. “Not at all.”
I took a deep breath and focused on my steps to keep from stumbling.
“He fucked me up, for sure, but no, I don’t love him.” I panted for a moment. I was not in good enough shape to carry on an entire conversation while running. “In fact, I’m disappointed in myself for marrying him in the first place and then for so blindly trusting him. I learned that lesson. Zero out of ten, do not recommend.”
He laughed up at the sky. “Okay. I didn’t mean to pry, but I figured that since I’m your fake boyfriend, I should make sure you’re not secretly pining over your ex.”
Pining? Not even close. My stomach roiled at the thought.
“Trust me.” I stifled a laugh. “Getting rid of that gaslighting, cheating prick allowed me to find freedom and peace. I’m never going back.”
His smile stretched across his face, his dimples causing me to lose focus. “Excellent.”
“I love my freedom and my autonomy. I’ll never get married again. Hell,” I said, emboldened by the endorphins and the dimples, “I’ll probably never have another romantic relationship again. A real one, at least. So far I like having a fake boyfriend.”
For the space of a heartbeat, his face fell. Or maybe I was imagining it, because in the time it took for me to check that I wasn’t veering off the road, the smile returned.
“Huh. You’re done with the entire male species?”
