Chapter 3

Violet's POV

I show up at James's office every chance I get over the next few days.

Monday, I wear a fitted shirt with three buttons open. Tuesday, a V-neck sweater that shows everything when I lean forward. Wednesday, it's a slip dress.

Every time I walk in, the receptionist greets me with a smile. "Mrs. Hayes! Visiting your husband again?"

I smile, nod, and head straight upstairs.

His colleagues go from shocked to used to it. A few even say hi first.

And James? Same expression every time. Surprise, then panic, then resignation.

Listening to his thoughts never gets old.

It's Friday.

I'm halfway downstairs, still plotting today's excuse, when I spot James on the couch—phone in one hand, coffee in the other.

"Day off?"

James freezes mid-sip. "Yeah, finished up early. Taking a few days."

His voice fills my head: I can't exactly tell her everyone at work keeps giving me weird looks because she shows up every damn day. And it's torture. What the hell happened to her? She's a different person.

I bite back a smile.

So I drove him to take time off.

James stands. "I'm gonna hit the gym for a bit."

He heads for the basement.

I watch the door close behind him and grin.

Exactly what I was waiting for.

I sprint back to my room and pull on the yoga pants and sports bra I bought the other day. The leggings hug every curve, the top fits tight in all the right places.

Perfect.

I head downstairs and push open the gym door.

James is mid pull-up. White tank top, arms flexing with every rep.

He hears the door, drops down, turns. The second he sees me, he freezes.

"What are you..." His voice sounds strained.

I walk up to him, look up at him. "I've been getting out of shape. Thought I'd work out too."

I pause. "Think you could show me what to do?"

James swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. His voice comes out rough. "Yeah. Sure."

"Start with stretches." He backs up a few feet.

I follow his lead. Bend way lower than necessary. The top rides up, showing my stomach.

His eyes drop to my waist. The second he realizes I'm watching, he looks away.

"Squats next." He turns around to demonstrate.

I move next to him, start squatting. Take it slow.

"Is this right?" I hold the bottom position, glance back at him.

"Yeah. Good." His voice shakes.

"But something feels off here." I point at my thigh. "Can you check?"

He moves behind me. "Do it again. Let me see what's wrong."

I try again, lower myself. His hands settle on my waist. Through the thin fabric, I feel the heat of his palms.

"Keep your back straight." His voice is right at my ear. I feel his breath on my neck.

I lean back. My back presses against his chest.

James stops breathing. His grip tightens.

"Okay." He lets go, steps back fast. "You're good. Let's try sit-ups."

I lie down on the mat.

"You need someone to hold your feet." James crouches by my ankles, hands pressing down.

I start. Each time I come up, our faces get close.

First rep, I lock eyes with him. He looks away immediately.

Second rep, I come up higher. My nose almost touches his.

On the fifth one, I lean forward too far, lose my balance, fall into him.

"Careful!"

James catches me instinctively. We both go down onto the mat.

I land on top of him. His arms wrap around my waist.

Heartbeat. Can't tell if it's his or mine.

Heat radiates off him, almost melting me.

I feel his reaction below, hard, pressing against me.

I lift my head. His face is right there. Close enough to count his lashes.

I close my eyes. Wait. Wait for him to kiss me.

His panicked voice floods my head: She closed her eyes. Is she waiting for me to kiss her? I want to... God I want to so bad. But I can't. I'll scare her. I'll ruin everything. No. Push her away. Now.

Then he shoves me away.

Hard, like I burned him.

He rolls to his feet, practically runs out of the gym.

I hear him take the stairs, then the bathroom door slam.

I lie there on the mat, open my eyes.

Can't help it. I laugh. Can't stop laughing.

Ten minutes later, James's voice comes from the bathroom, awkward as hell.

"Violet?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you grab me some clothes from the guest room?" His voice drops.

I stand. "Sure."

I head upstairs, push open the guest room door. The room is spotless. For three years, I've offered to clean in here. He's never let me.

I go to the closet, pull out clean clothes. Then I listen. Water's still running in the bathroom.

I glance at the nightstand. Just a quick look.

I pull open the drawer.

Then I freeze. My black lace underwear from a few days ago. Right there.

Not just that. My bra. The white one. Another pair of underwear. Pink. And...

I pick up the black pair. My mind goes blank.

Footsteps pound toward the door. "Wait, I forgot to tell you..."

I turn. James stands there, eyes wide, hair dripping. Just a towel around his waist.