Page 15 of Take My Heart
There’s a knock on the door and I hear Brody’s voice. ‘Is the shower not working?’
‘Um, I’m sure it is. I just didn’t start it yet.’
‘Okay, just wanted to check you were still alive in there,’ he says with a laugh.
He was worried about me? He just met me. He seems like a nice guy. He’d have to be to let some stranger stay at his house.
Looking in the mirror, I slowly take off my wedding dress, wondering if I’ll ever wear one again. What if today was my only chance to get married? What if I’m single for the rest of my life?
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. A lot of people are happy being single. It has to be better than being married to someone you don’t love.
I made the right decision. I can’t second guess myself and yet I keep doing it. I keep going back and forth trying to decide if I made the right decision or if there was some way I could’ve made it work. But deep down, if I listen to my heart, I know Cam wasn’t the guy for me.
As I get in the shower, I take a long deep breath as the water rains over me. It feels good to wash away this horrible day. Iknow I have to deal with this at some point, but not now. Right now I just need to calm down, relax, and get my mind straight. I don’t know what I’m going to do when I go back home, but I can worry about that later.
‘Oh, shit!’ I drop the bar of soap, realizing I just rubbed it all over my body. The same soap Brody uses. It’s been all over his naked body and now it’s been on mine! It shouldn’t be a big deal, but it feels wrong.
Why doesn’t he use shower gel? I look around for some, but all he has is the bar of soap. I feel the water cooling off and hurry to find shampoo to wash my hair. It’s a small bottle and is almost gone. I squeeze some out and wash my hair, the water getting colder by the second. There’s no conditioner so I quickly rinse out the shampoo, finishing just as the hot water runs out.
When I get out of the shower and am drying off, I remember I don’t have clothes. Wrapping myself in a towel, I open the door just a crack. ‘Brody?’
‘Yeah?’ he yells back.
‘I need some clothes. Do you have something I could borrow?’
‘I left them outside the door.’
I look down and see a stack of clothes. ‘Oh. Thanks!’
He appears in the hall. ‘Did you run out of hot water?’
My eyes drop to his shirt. He took off the flannel one and is wearing a t-shirt, a black one that fits tight to his chest. The guy has muscles, which I guess makes sense since he has a job that involves physical labor. I’ve just never seen a guy with muscles like that. I’ve always dated guys that work in an office and don’t do enough in the gym to see any results.
‘Kate?’
I hear my name and look up to see Brody smiling. Did he catch me checking him out? I hope not. I didn’t mean to. And I wasn’t really checking him out. I was admiring his dedication to fitness.
‘Yeah, it was hot,’ I blurt out. ‘The water. I mean, it got cooler, but I was able to finish my shower.’
His gaze lowers to my towel before returning to my face. ‘Okay, well, I’ll let you get dressed.’
Wait, was he just checkingmeout? I can’t be mad at him for that since I did the same thing to him, but it can’t happen again. We’re temporary roommates. That’s it. Nothing can happen, especially since just hours ago I was going to get married.
Brody walks back down the hall while I grab the stack of clothes. I shut the door and set the clothes on the counter. Brody left me a t-shirt, some gym shorts, and a Packers sweatshirt.
I put the shorts on and pull the drawstring as tight as I can, then tie it into a knot. The shorts are so huge they go way past my knees. Brody’s a tall guy, way over six feet, and I’m barely five-four. Next I put on the t-shirt. It’s a faded gray t-shirt with a name on it, maybe the name of a band? I pull on the hoodie, smiling as I think of the horrified look that would be on Cam’s face if he saw me in this. He hates the Packers.
Leaving the bathroom, I go to the kitchen where Brody’s making a sandwich.
‘Thanks for the clothes,’ I say.
He laughs when he sees me. ‘They look good on you.’
‘A Packers sweatshirt?’ I point to it. ‘Really?’
‘What? You don’t like the Packers?’ He spreads mustard on the piece of bread that’s on the counter. He’s not even using aplate. He’s just making a sandwich on the counter. Cam would be horrified, even if the counter was sterilized.
‘I don’t really care,’ I say, ‘but Cam hated them. He’s a Bears fan. He can’t stand the Packers.’
