Me: Can I see you?

Whitney: I don’t think that’s a good idea.

She doesn’t ‘think’. I can work with that.

Me: I’ll be at your parent’s house most of the day. Maybe you should come by if you need a break?

Whitney: I’m surprised you’re not already there. My parents really missed you. They didn’t make you go back over? haha

Me: Surprisingly no. I think Miche passed out and Kevin stopped answering soon after I left earlier.

Whitney: I’ll think about it. When are you going?

Me: Early afternoon. The game starts at noon.

Whitney: I’ll see.

Don’t press her. This is progress.

Me: I look forward to maybe seeing you.

Sweat pours from me as I go into my third mile the following morning. I barely slept a wink all night, despite the exhaustion from traveling I couldn’t fall asleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Whitney and her fiancé kissing, touching and it made me fucking irate. I slow to a jog, stopping a few yards shy of a main intersection with cars zooming by. I begin to pace around the stop sign, thoughts of Whitney taking over again. I’d always been a runner, having played soccer in high school, college and in several recreational leagues post-graduation. After I left for Mexico, I’d started running non-stop to try and clear my head of thoughts of Whitney. It was the only time I felt free of the regret I had over leaving her.

This time however was different. The run did nothing but made me conjure about a hundred different scenarios over how the next few months would go. Would she marry him? Prolong the engagement until she figures out what she wants? Date us both? Break up with him and be with me? Start another affair with me behind his back? Tell me to fuck off? I used to so in tune with Whitney and now I had no idea what she was thinking. The three years apart had changed more than just her relationship status and it pissed me the fuck off.

I run a hand through my hair before raising the T-shirt I was wearing up over my brow to wipe the sweat. My heart rate is starting to slow as I begin walking back toward my house when my phone begins to ring through my AirPods. I pull the phone out of my pocket and I’m not surprised to see it’s Kevin.

“You coming over for breakfast?” Kevin asks before I even say hello. “Michelle’s making waffles and I may have already started drinking mimosas.”

I look down at my Apple Watch that I use when I’m working out to track my miles and I see it’s only eleven. I assumed we’d be drinking but I wasn’t thinking he’d be starting without me or even before the game was on. “Already?”

“It’s not my fault, Whitney is a bad influence.” He chuckles and my ears immediately perk up when I hear her name.