I spend a whole week somehow keeping Marko entertained within the confines of my house. To be honest, my sister failed to warn me that the kid is cute but a human wrecking ball. I’ve never spent this long babysitting him and I’m starting to see why. By the eighth day of his stay, he’s already painted my walls with every crayon in his arsenal and pissed more times outside of the toilet than in. I’ve been doing laundry around the clock to keep up with all the food that lands on his body, and my couch has become a prime example of what happens when kids are given adult glasses instead of sippy cups.
Desperate to help Marko expel some energy after dinner, I take him on a much-needed visit to the lakeside park. I could also use something to calm myself down too because I can’t put my mind to rest lately. If I’m not considering checking the email with Noah’s proposal, then I’m thinking about Chloe and what she’s up to during our time apart. It’s like the two of them worked together to wreak havoc on my head over the past couple of days.
Marko entertains me, not allowing my thoughts to slip too far into the deep, dark pits of self-loathing when I consider what Noah said. My nephew shows me how there’s still good for me to look forward to in the world even if I don’t exactly feel that way often.
“Look who it is! Princess Chloe!” Marko’s hand slips out of mine as he runs down across the grass.
I stop and stare across the lawn at her. She sits on the grass with her legs crossed, holding on to a circular object. Like an old bad habit, I tug my hat lower down my face to hide myself from anyone who passes by us. I’m not too worried about any fans finding me based on how empty the park is at this time of day.
“Hey, you!” Chloe laughs as she throws whatever she was doing on the grass. She spreads her arms and Marko launches himself into them. He wraps his arms and legs around her, proving why he was nicknamed Monkey in the first place.
My curiosity peaks at the object she was working on. It’s a half-finished embroidery circle. The design is impressive and extremely detailed, with the bright mix of random flowers standing out against the white linen material.
I point at her work. “I’m seeing a trend here. Do you like wildflowers?”
“There’s something beautiful about chaos.”
“They remind me of you.” The words escape my mouth before I can stop them.
Where the fuck did that come from?
Her cheeks flush. “Some people would be offended about being compared to a bunch of weeds.”
“I have a feeling you don’t fall in the same category as those people.”
“Why?” A hint of a smile crosses her lips.
“Because those who see beauty in chaos also see flowers instead of weeds, and that’s a gift in a world like ours.”
“That’s rather poetic of you.” The pink in her cheeks deepens.
I smile at her reaction. She makes it too easy, and I won’t deny how I look forward to making her blush. Flirting with Chloe invigorates me in a way I haven’t felt in some time.
Marko lays a sloppy kiss on Chloe’s cheek, stealing her attention back. “I miss-ed you.” He crawls off her lap and sits by her side. His tiny hand pats the grass next to him as he looks up at me.
Come on, Marko. You’re supposed to be my wingman. I stare at the grass with such hatred, I’m surprised it doesn’t catch on fire. Getting up and down off the floor was always one of my least favorite physical therapy activities. Not because it was hard, but because it made it so damn obvious that I have an impairment to begin with.
Chloe laughs, soft and carefree as she brushes a strand of hair out of Marko’s eye. “Aw, I miss-ed you too.”
“Really?” He smiles in that infectious way of his. His eyes narrow at me as he pats the ground again. “Siéntate, Tio.”
I avoid Chloe’s gaze as I take a deep breath. I’ve practiced this move hundreds of times in rehab but executing it around Chloe has me feeling another sense of dread. Just because she kissed me doesn’t mean she is interested in anything more. And the kiss was a way to prove her point rather than to make me feel good. Based on the way she doesn’t look in my direction, I’m the only idiot who can’t get it out of my head.
Ignoring the acid rolling in my stomach at making myself look any less of a man in front of Chloe, I put my left leg forward for balance and then fold my right leg. My prosthetic hits the grass at the same time as the palms of my hands. Transferring my body weight to my arms, I pull my legs forward and in front of me. It’s awkward and disjointed, with each second ticking by at a snail’s pace.
Chloe focuses on tickling Marko’s stomach. Her indifference fills me with a new wave of appreciation. It’s as if she knows what to do without me having to ask, and that’s something I’ve yet to experience around anyone. Not even my own family knows how to act when I take longer to do what used to be second nature.
Her tickling leaves Marko breathless and red in the face.
“He just ate, so unless you want him to become a vomit launcher, I’d stop.” I place my hands behind me as I take in the sunset reflecting off the lake.
Marko makes a bleh noise.
“Gross. We don’t want that.” She wrinkles her nose in the cutest way.
Marko abandons his spot in between us and runs around in circles, making retching noises between giggles.
“I’m curious. What made you want to take a walk in the park? I thought you didn’t leave your castle much.” She drags a finger underneath the bill of my cap, lifting it.
Her blue eyes darken as they focus on me licking my lips. Hmm. Maybe she does think about our kiss, too. “I wanted to make sure there weren’t any cats who needed rescuing.”
She drops her head back and laughs. “I didn’t hear any crying in the trees, so I think we are good.”
“That’s great. We can’t have you checking on them and falling again.”
“I wouldn’t have fallen if it weren’t for a big, brooding shadow of a man who scared me in the middle of the night.”
“It’s not every day I have a trespasser wanting to climb a tree on my property.”
She scoffs. “The fact that you have to specify what kind of trespasser you have speaks volumes.”
I shrug. “People are weird and invasive.”
“Maybe they’re interested in checking out if your house is haunted.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “What?”
Seriously, how can this girl not know I’m famous? I can’t remember the last time I’ve been completely anonymous. By the time I was eighteen, I already had over a hundred-thousand followers on my social media accounts.
“Your house. Have you seen it? It’s like Luigi’s Mansion but less fun.”
“Are you a Nintendo fan?”
“Are you not? Be careful how you answer. I might have to end this friendship before it has a real chance.”
Friendship? She’s got to be kidding me. I’m not about to get friend-zoned by a woman who kissed me like she might die without it. No way. Fuck that.
“Of course I like Nintendo. I grew up using Mario Kart as practice.”
“Practice for what?” Her brows scrunch together.
Shit. I ignore the urge to reveal my racing past. “For actual driving. What else?”
“I wouldn’t know. I never learned how to drive.”
“What? You don’t know how to drive?” I try to wrap my head around the concept. I’ve been driving karts since I was four years old.
“No! I grew up in New York. No one knows how to drive.”
“Whoa. That needs to be amended.”
She laughs to herself. “And you’re going to be the one to sacrifice yourself for the cause?”
“It’s not a sacrifice if I’m willing.” I grin.
Marko, cockblocker extraordinaire, interrupts us, squeezing my neck with his sweaty arms. “Time for gelato?”
“Hmm, I don’t know. You already had gelato yesterday.”
“Please!” He squeezes my neck tighter. “You’re the bestest uncle ever.”
“Thanks. It was a tough competition with myself, but I’m glad I won.”
Chloe giggles and I want to hear more of it.
“So yes?” Marko whines.
“Why don’t you go run around some more?” Go run. Go hide. Go rip grass from the ground like I did when I was your age. Anything to give me an ounce of privacy with Chloe.
“Then I get pukey.” He fake retches.
Chloe’s deep laugh has my dick waking up like it’s time to play.
“Then sit.” I pat the grass. If it worked on me, maybe it’ll work on him.
He moves onto Chloe, crawling into her lap and holding her face with his pudgy hands. “Princess, can you take me? Tickle dragon is grumpy.”
The little shit.
Chloe looks at me with a raised brow. “I don’t want the tickle dragon mad at me.”
“Please.” Marko pouts.
“Fine. We can go.” I exhale.
“Yes!” Marko claps and stands up, offering his hand to Chloe. “You coming?”
Chloe opens her mouth, clearly wanting to reject Marko.
I jump in. “You don’t want to disappoint a four-year-old because they tend to hold grudges. And this little guy is the worst at them. He forced me for an entire week to dress up as Elsa because I didn’t want to watch Frozen with him.”
She chuckles to herself as she packs up the few items she had strewn out on the grass. “Sure. Why not? I don’t have anything else to do tonight.” She rises from the ground with ease.
I make a move to get up before remembering I can’t do it the same way anymore. The vein above my eye throbs as I prep myself.
Fuck. This was a terrible idea. Getting up is way worse than going down.
“Hey.” Chloe bends over, hitting me with two sapphire eyes. “Marko calls you Iron Man, right?”
I raise a brow, ignoring the clenching of my stomach muscles from the fresh wave of nerves. “Yes.”
The scar above her lip twitches as her lips part. “And do you know what makes Iron Man special?”
“His suit?”
She laughs and leans into my ear. The hot air from her mouth sends sparks down my spine. “No. Iron Man is special because he owns who he is, no matter what people think of him. He is unapologetic and people are drawn to him like a magnet. Personally, I don’t care if it takes you a minute or an hour to get up. All that matters is that you do.”
How the hell did life throw this girl in my path? I’m destined to destroy her before she has a chance to get away. She’s too good for the likes of me.
I swallow back the lump in my throat. “Is this your game-day speech?”
“This is my get your head out of your ass speech. I reserve game-day speeches for special occasions like sex marathons and getting out of bed on Sundays.”
My dick is interested in both options with her. Chloe is the perfect blend of sweet and sexy, giving me a hard-on from her presence and words alone.
She moves away from me, taking her warmth with her. Marko asks her to watch him race across the grass, and she walks over to him.
I do what Chloe told me to and push aside the idea of her staring at me. Instead, I focus on the motions of getting up. I grab my prosthetic and cross it over my left leg. Rolling onto my knees, I bring my left foot forward and press it into the ground before standing.
I brush the dirt clinging to my hands. No one pays me any attention, and I enjoy the warmth spreading through my chest at my accomplishment. Instead of my usual hatred toward myself, I feel stronger. Not only because I could get up, but because I found someone whose first instinct isn’t to baby me or avoid talking about my injury. Honestly, it seems like Chloe doesn’t give a shit about it. She treats me as an equal, which is more than I can say about many people. It has me wanting to get to know the real her rather than the lie I created in my head. And I’m not exactly opposed to it anymore.
I can’t tear my eyes away from Chloe licking the chocolate gelato off her spoon.
Why did I think inviting Chloe to this was a good idea? My body is out of control, reacting to anything and everything Chloe does. I shouldn’t find licking a spoon erotic. Clearly, I’ve stooped to new lows during my time in isolation. Lows that include one visit already to the bathroom for me to readjust myself.
It’s not like I’m bringing women back to my house to fuck me. The last time that happened was over a year ago, and the woman only had sex with me out of pity. I could tell by the look in her eyes after I stripped out of my jeans. Rather than remove my leg to be comfortable, I kept it on and went along with the act anyway. The hopeful part of me believed it would make me feel better about myself if I was sexual with someone. It didn’t. I never bothered again after that occasion because I felt worse than I ever have in the bedroom.
By now, I’m practically a born-again virgin. So, yeah, watching Chloe lick her spoon is like viewing live porn for me at this point. Sad but fucking true based on how my dick threatens war against the zipper of my jeans.
Chloe pushes her cup of gelato away, and my cock weeps.
“Well, that was so good. Thank you.” She looks over at me before turning her attention toward Marko. “I loved seeing you again.”
“Will you come tomorrow on the boat?” He bats his lashes in a way I recognize as something Maya did as a kid.
“Oh. I have things to do.”
“What things?” I blurt out.
“Um…work.”
“Where do you work?”
“The coffee shop next to the bakery on the main road.” Her eyes fall to her lap.
“We swim tomorrow. You can come!” Marko demands.
It’s a sad moment to realize my nephew has more pull with women than me and he’s only four. No doubt he will be a real charmer when he’s older.
Chloe’s head snaps up, her eyes searching mine for help.
I shrug. “Saying no to him is exhausting.” Right. “What time do you get out of work?”
“I’m done at noon.”
“Does one o’clock sound good, then?”
“Sure.” Her voice sounds anything but sure, but her face remains calm.
I ask for her phone number, just in case anything comes up. She rattles off the digits before leaving the two of us behind.
“I’ve got to hand it to you, kid. You’ve got your dad’s skills for getting what you want.” I offer him my hand to smack.
“Hell forking yes.” He shoots me a huge smile and slaps my palm.
Hindsight truly is twenty-twenty. Inviting Chloe swimming was a bad idea. The thought kept me up way too late last night after Marko went to bed.
I’ve officially voted my nephew the worst wingman ever. Neither one of us can recognize when our ideas suck, and that’s a deadly combo.
Like an asshole, I text Chloe while she’s at work about postponing our plans because Marko came down with a nasty cold. It’s the oldest trick in the book, but I’m fresh out of ideas. This is the last thing I want to do but I have to. I can’t bear her seeing the real me without any pants or barriers hiding my leg.
No amount of counseling or physical therapy I’ve completed makes the feeling of inadequacy go away. I can’t do it, no matter how much I want to spend time with Chloe.
My stomach sinks as Chloe texts me back.
Chloe the Criminal: Oh no 🙁 Poor guy. What’s he feeling?
Yeah, Santiago, what is he feeling? One look at Marko jumping across couches yelling something about not touching lava makes my chest tighten.
Me: Sore throat and the sniffles.
And a case of bullshit inherited by yours truly.
Chloe the Criminal: No worries. I hope he gets well soon. Maybe we can go another time when he’s feeling better.
I can’t find it in me to respond.
Marko asks me to take him for a walk by the lake. We spend an hour trying to skip rocks across the water. He claps and does a victory dance when one of his rocks skips across the flat water. It reminds me of Noah and me winning on podiums together, chugging champagne to blasting music.
The memory has my body tensing before I can push it away. I do my best to keep those hidden away but spending time with Marko brings back the oldest ones.
Marko’s voice snaps me out of my daze. “What’s that?”
“What?”
He runs up to a paper bag laying on the ground about twenty feet away.
My mood goes from bad to worse as I walk up to it. I analyze the contents, finding different kid’s medicines and a Tupperware of hot soup. The get-well package lacks a message, but it’s obvious who would bother showing up with one.
Guilt hits me, with my stomach tightening to the point of unease. I tug my phone out of my pants to find a new message.
Chloe the Criminal: Glad to see Marko’s feeling better. Thank God being a lying dick isn’t contagious.
My palms shake as I think up a way to explain myself. To make her understand why I made the decision I did because of my insecurity with myself, not her. I type out my first message, wanting to send something, and buy myself a second to think.
Me: It’s not what you think.
I keep typing. The dots on her side of the message come and go as fast as they appeared in the first place. I don’t have time to send my next response before my phone pings again.
Chloe the Criminal: You’re right because here I was thinking you were someone you clearly aren’t. I should’ve known better the first time you lied about us to your family. Do us both a favor and lose my number.
Me: You don’t understand. Give me a chance to explain.
Chloe the Criminal: Compulsive liars are a hard limit for me. I’ll pass on your offer.
Marko looks at me funny when I groan. All I have done is lie in front of her, around her, with her. Everything we have done together has been a show for someone else. Well, everything but our private conversations and yesterday. That was all us.
Except you’re hiding your true identity, and that’s still a lie.
Me: I’m sorry.
Chloe the Criminal: Sorry. This number is no longer in service. Get a hint like I did and forget I ever existed.
Me: But what if I don’t want to?
I stand by the lake with Marko for another ten minutes, waiting for a reply that never comes. It’s obvious that I fucked up. Period. It doesn’t matter what my reasoning was in the first place.
The worst part about all of this is knowing she’ll never accept me. If this is how she reacted from a small lie, I can’t imagine how she will feel after I tell her I’m actually famous. Or was.
My list of flaws continues to grow while the redeemable parts of myself shrivel into nothing but distant memories.
