Page 63 of The Single Dads Club
Chapter Five
Corrigan
Allow me to be perfectly clear—I don’t like working out.
I think people who say they like working out are lying, or else they’re just certifiably insane. I’ve tried the gym, home workouts, personal trainers and even those fancy barre classes that play fun, upbeat pop tunes. But so far none of them have been my thing.
You know whatelseisn’t my thing? Spending nine hours tossing and turning while running through worst-case scenarios ofwhyLexington called me last night. I’m a worrier by nature, but after listening to his voice mail, what I experienced was a whole new level of stress. I’m talking sleepless,not even melatonin can save me nowstress.
So this morning, when my favoriteWhat’s Happening in Wilmingtonblog directed me to this free workout class in the park, I thought I’d give physical fitness one more shot. All in the name of endorphins and sweating out every memory of Lexington Dane so I could attempt to move on yet again.
Now, freshly sweaty from three rounds of intense intervals in the summer sun, I’m feeling a little bit better and a lot out of breath. Luckily, I still have plenty of time to head home and change before I meet Sarah Jo for brunch. As I head back to my car, I tap my smartwatch to get a read on how many calories I just burned to determine if I can justify pancakesandhash browns. As I do the mental math of calories burned vs calories about to beconsumed, afamiliar voice behind me brings my tennis shoes to a screeching halt.
“Corrigan?”
Just the sound of my name in that deep, raspy voice sends a bristle up my spine, making me stand up a little straighter. I know that voice all too well. It’s the same one from the voice mail, and from my daydreams and nightmares over the last ten years. And now it sends my heart rate even higher than it was during that last round of burpees.
This can’t be happening. Especially not now, when I haven’t washed my hair in three days, and I probably smell like a dirty gym sock.
Oh God.
I look down at my oversize T-shirt, which is sticking to me in all the wrong places. Maybe my imagination is playing dirty tricks on me. I should just ignore it and keep walking.
“Corrigan, wait up.”
The voice is closer now, and there’s no denying it’s Lexington. Here,now, and quickly approaching.
I chew my lower lip, frantically weighing my options. I could brush it off, pretend I was just stopping to tie my shoe and didn’t even hear him. But one glance down at my feet reminds me that I had the foresight to go for a double knot.Shoot.
Sucking in a deep breath, I gather up whatever confidence I have and reluctantly turn around.
My heart hammers in my chest and my stomach ties itself in an intricate knot because there he is. Lexington Dane. All six feet, one inch of him, just a few yards away from me. In dark-washed jeans and a plain white tee, he looks every bit as unfairly handsome as I expected.
What I wasn’t expecting, however, is the fact that he’s not alone. His big, tanned hands grip the handles of a dark gray stroller, and as he slows to a stop in front of me, I get a peek at the precious blond-haired angel inside.
“Um, hello,” I manage to squeak out, my gaze fixed on the munchkin in the stroller, who is blinking curiously at me while chewing on the foot of a G.I. Joe doll.
She’s adorable but she’s also making me ten times more confused about this whole situation. I’ve played out dozens of scenarios in my head where I run into Lexington and tell him off for what he did to me. But none of those scenarios involved a child.Crazier yet, a child who totally has his hypnotic blue eyes.
“Hello to you too,” Lexington says with an easy laugh. Curse him for being so casual about this awkward as hell reunion we find ourselves in.
“What are you doing here?” I mumble, dodging his gaze as I fold my arms over my chest.
“We’re on a walk. It’s a public park. This is what parks are for.”
I can barely conceal my eye roll. “No, I mean what are you doing inWilmington?”
His voice cracks slightly. “We wanted to be closer to my mom.”
“Who is we?” I brace myself for his answer. Here it comes, the name of the woman who replaced me. I can already picture her—tall and thin, and far more metropolitan than I’ll ever be.
“Me and this little munchkin.”
Leaning over the stroller, Lexington unbuckles her, and then scoops his little blond sidekick into his muscular arms. She giggles in delight as he props her up on his hip, but I’m not nearly so happy about her change in location. Unless I want to look like a complete psychopath, I can’t keep staring at an empty stroller. Which means I have no choice but to look Lexington Dane in the eye.
All right. Here goes.
Slowly, I let my gaze inch up from the stroller, passing over the fitted white T-shirt stretched tight across his muscular chest, and the dusting of stubble along his angular jaw, until my gaze locks with his electric-blue eyes. It’s my first real look at Lexington in over ten years, and although I hate to admit it, the man looks good. Like,reallygood. Almost too good for it to be fair. Especially considering how disgusting I feel and more than likely look at the moment.
