Chapter 4 You’re Hopeless

MADELINE

By the time James arrived home that evening, Madeline had managed to fill a number of pages in the sketchbook she’d purchased while running errands. Each sketch was of the man from the coffee shop. His face, his mouth, his nose, that dimple she adored… those deep eyes… Every little thing she’d noted about his face had found its way onto a page, redone at different angles, different lighting, different expressions.

When she heard the front door open Madeline froze, suddenly realizing what it would look like to James if he saw what covered the pages.

It wasn’t that she felt anything for the man himself; she just really, really liked the composition of his face. Yes, that was all it was. But she didn’t want to explain this to the man she loved, the man who had always given her grace when she made mistakes. He might think the wrong thing and she didn’t want him to ever dream she would look at another man that way.

So she tucked the sketchbook under the couch before he made it to the living room. As he stepped into view, Madeline gave him a bright smile. “Welcome home. Long day again?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” he sighed, looking as tired as he sounded.

“I’ll go reheat you some dinner while you relax,” she offered, getting to her feet. Walking up to him, Madeline leaned in to give him a kiss and got his cheek instead of the lips she’d been aiming for. It hurt that he’d turned away but he gave her a gentle smile.

“Sorry, just… need a bit to decompress.”

“No problem,” she assured him, continuing on her way to the kitchen.

James retired to bed after he’d finished eating, leaving Madeline alone once again. It wasn’t the first time she found herself feeling lonely but it was one of the worst. It wasn’t that he didn’t notice how she felt but that she was too good at hiding it behind a smile. That’s all. What other explanation was there?

The next morning she woke at the same time as always, showered and made herself presentable before putting together some breakfast burritos. Bacon, eggs, onions, peppers, and mushrooms; all sautéed together in a pan before she dropped them onto a wrap, adding some dressing before rolling it up all nice and tight. As always she timed it perfectly, putting the plate on the table as James entered the kitchen.

“Mind helping me?,” he asked, giving the tie he’d been trying to knot a couple useless tugs.

Madeline giggled, reaching over to flip his collar up before getting to work. “You are hopeless at this one thing, aren’t you?,” she teased.

James rolled his eyes. “I can do it just fine,” he muttered but changed his tone when he realized she was listening. “I just… prefer when you do it, babe.”

“I know. I’m only teasing,” she assured him, finishing up by giving his chest a light pat. “You are more than capable of doing anything you put your mind to.” Except ties, she added in her head. All his ties, once washed, were loosely knotted — by Madeline — and hung in the closet. The only thing he had to do was slip it over his head and tighten. How he managed to get this one all wrong she couldn’t understand but that was part of his charm.

Once he’d left for work and the kitchen was clean, Madeline grabbed her gym bag and headed out. She was excited. Today she wasn’t going to spin class but another, more interesting one she’d been wanting to try for a while. Kick boxing.

James always worried about her being out and about on her own, especially once it started getting dark early. It was why she always made sure he could track her phone, since checking her location would let him know she was fine. Sure, she could text him throughout the day, but he hated getting personal calls and messages while he was at work. Unless it was an absolute emergency, Madeline refrained from bothering him during the day. Being able to track her phone was the compromise.

Noting there was a bit of a nip in the air as she stepped outside, Madeline wondered if she should wear a heavier jacket, but ultimately decided it was fine. It would warm up as the day progressed, as was normal during autumn.

At the gym, she changed into her workout clothes, which consisted of a pair of black compression leggings — for better blood flow, not because it made her legs look a-mah-zing — and a skin tight tank top covered with a loose t-shirt a few sizes too big. The t-shirt was a compromise, as James had seen her gym clothes ones and accused her of seeking male attention, until she explained the physical benefits of wearing compression leggings and a supportive top. It had taken a while for him to calm down but she’d managed it by agreeing to wear the large t-shirt.

There were nineteen other people there — she’d counted. It was a woman’s class — the men’s beginning a half hour after theirs finished — meaning Madeline didn’t feel out of place.

She glanced around and noted everyone except two other women were busy stretching; the two were standing together, speaking in low voices. “Do we need to stretch first?,” Madeline overheard one of them whisper.

“Probably? I don’t know. Go ask someone.”

Should she join them? Chances were good they, too, were beginners; it might be nice to support one another… but Madeline pushed that idea aside. It was obvious they were already friends and inserting herself into the conversation would be rude.

“Alright, everyone,” a man’s loud voice called from the front of the room. He was a little below average height — for a man — but possessed a strong presence. He wore a blue windbreaker over a white shirt and a pair of splash pants that matched the jacket. What showed of his skin looked like leather — tough.

With him came two women, each dressed in what had to be top of the line athletic gear. Sports bra like tops showed firm bodies and tight leggings emphasized shapely legs. They were beautiful as they waved to a few of the women taking the class. It looked as though they were well liked, which was good. Madeline didn’t want drill sergeants as instructors.

“We have a few new faces today,” the man continued, but Madeline’s attention was elsewhere, because a fifth person had stepped to the front.

It was the man from the coffee shop. Gone was the expensive, perfectly tailored suit; he now wore a black tank top and grey sweats.

Realizing she was staring, Madeline quickly shifted her attention back to the one in charge. Would he recognize her? Of course he would. Sure, her hair was tied back instead of loose around her face, but that didn’t matter. It’s not like it changed anything about her appearance — at least not enough to make a difference. Good lord, what if he tried to talk to her? Please let him just pretend she didn’t exist. Please, if there was a god out there, let her survive this one class without needing to talk to the guy she’d spent ten minutes blabbing to about his own face.

The man in charge introduced himself as Liam and rattled off some of his experience in the professional kick boxing circuit, or… whatever it was called. Madeline was finding it difficult to pay attention while worrying the other man would catch sight of — and recognize — her in the crowd.

It felt like she’d cheated on James with this man, whose name she didn’t even know. Pages of her sketchbook were filled with his face. What was wrong with her?

“And these are my assistants. We’ve got Mikaela, Phoebe, and Lucian, who was kind enough to fill in for Cole today.”

His name was Lucian. He looked like a Lucian. Dammit, why did she feel happy at finally knowing his name? The guilt was going to eat her alive if this kept up. Maybe she should quit the class and go back to spin. It was looking mighty tempting if it meant not seeing this hunk of gorgeous — nope, she wasn’t going there. Not even a little. She loved James, no exceptions. The only man she wanted was James, just like…

Her thoughts trailed off as she pursed her lips. Madeline could no longer say he only wanted her, could she?

Suddenly people were being divided into smaller groups and Madeline found herself with the two women she’d overheard whispering — the beginners.

“Since you’re all new, I’m going to have Lucian here,” Liam gripped Lucian’s shoulder, giving it a little shake as he spoke, “teach you the basics.”

Ah, shit on a stick, Madeline thought to herself as their eyes met and he grinned. There was no escaping now.