The boxing community seemed to mourn the loss of Rhys and I came to understand why. There was a YouTube video of the fight that garnered him his heavyweight title. It was brutal but fascinating to watch. Rhys Morgan was built like Hercules, all muscles and gleaming skin, and he was fast. As I watched him move around the ring, impressively light on his feet despite his size, I’d felt those butterflies in my belly again.

He was beautiful in a primal way.

I knew nothing of his sport, and we came from very different backgrounds.

Moreover, Rhys was determined (which was a polite way of saying he was a bit of a steamroller) and vibrated with this passionate energy I’d never experienced before.

He might not be my type, but he was a catch. Many women would want to be in his orbit, and I was sure he’d have his pick.

And I was going to pretend to date this guy.

Would anyone really buy it?

A car horn shook me out the memories of watching Rhys fight. Those images were currently playing in a loop in my head. Yet, it would be safer while cycling if I concentrated on getting to Lights Out in one piece.

Seriously, this whole debacle was distracting.

So far, I’d avoided telling Jackson about how I met Rhys. I hated lying about dating him and the more I embellished the deception, the guiltier I felt. Avoidance was my friend right now.

There was absolutely no way anyone could find out about Rhys beyond my work colleagues. God, if my parents or my sister Easton found out, I’d die.

Okay, so that was melodramatic… but I would certainly feel like I might combust with shame if I had to fib to my family about Rhys. Probably because they wanted so badly for me to meet someone and fall in love.

I was thirty years old and single, and my parents were worried because I’d been single a while now. Like, a while. A whole lotta while.

Thirteen years.

My stomach lurched at the number.

It sounded worse than it was. I mean, I had dated during those thirteen years. And had lots of sex. Okay, maybe not lots. But I’d had sex. In my quest to feel that spark of chemistry once again, I’d gotten myself a little something-something over the years. Some of it bad. Some of it good. All of it… just… meh.

There was no point in settling down with someone I didn’t spark with. I’d rather be single forever than settle for less than I knew was possible. And I knew what was possible because for a brief, splendid moment in time I’d had something special.

So I kind of gave up, especially while working on my PhD. My career became my entire focus.

Ironic that a relationship was the one thing I needed to advance my career.