Page 22 of Ugly Duckling
“So will y’all be running Boston?” a female asked as she cuddled up to the man named Cutter.
She had her own medal around her neck, but it was for the half marathon. “You have to. Oh my god. That was so amazing. I want to be y’all when I grow up.”
“Baby, you just ran your half in an hour and fifty minutes,” Cutter said. “You’re doing great.”
“I know.” She patted the man’s chest. “We should all go eat breakfast! I’m starving!”
Before I could reply, a man came up to me with an official look to him and said, “Congratulations, you two. Ma’am, can I get you to take a picture on the podium?”
I made to stand up…and couldn’t.
Gunner snorted and helped me to my feet, then took my cup of spaghetti from me and said, “You have something green between your teeth.”
I instantly started to suck at my teeth before I bared them to him and said, “Get it?”
“Gone.” He nodded. “You need help up on that platform, too?”
I looked at said platform where there were two other women standing on the second and third spots.
“Yes,” I admitted.
He helped me walk across the small distance, and instead of helping me up, he picked me up and placed me on my shaky legs on the platform. “There you go.”
He backed away and took a huge bite of his spaghetti.
The little girl walked up to his side and held her mouth up to him like a baby bird.
He dropped a few noodles into her gaping mouth.
She chomped them before saying, “Mmmmm.”
“Smile!”
I smiled, though I was sure it was brittle.
I wanted what Gunner had.
I was so desperate to have that kind of connection that I was even contemplating using my ex-husband’s sperm to do it—though that would be a long time in the future. I wasn’t quite that desperate yet.
The only thing making me hesitate heading down this route later on down the road was that I somehow knew that he would file for custody.
“All done,” the announcer said, leaving me with a huge medal at my feet, along with a trophy that I had no hope of carrying right now.
“Here.”
I looked up to find Gunner back, offering me his hand.
I took it, placed one foot on the ground, and would’ve kept going down to my knee if he hadn’t caught me around the waist.
“Still don’t work, eh?” he asked, my body plastered against his.
“Nope.” I popped the p.
Once my feet were back under me, I walked on my own volition back to the bench where everyone was still congregated, including Lottie who was now demolishing a waffle, getting syrup everywhere.
“Want some?” She offered me a quarter of the waffle.
“No.” I smiled. “You can eat it.”
