Our Remains

You know, it's never a good sign when you actively tune out the voice of the person you're supposed to maintain a conversation with. But it was always the same boring topics about business and finance that had me eager to zone out. I was basically just attending this event to support Grant, my boyfriend of three years, who happened to be a big deal at these events.

I was used to the basics of these parties. It was mostly chatting with Grant's associates, usually on my own, while he made his way around to shake hands with higher-ups or potential business associates, leaving me to pretend to be interested in whatever the other person was blabbering about.

I was so deep in space-out town that I failed to notice my middle-aged conversation partner had stopped talking and was staring at me as if waiting for a response to a question I was supposed to answer. I had attempted to respectfully ask him to repeat the question when the gods showed me mercy by sending Grant at just the right time.

"There you are," he said, with a slight tinge of excitement in his voice.

I turned around so abruptly that I was sure the breeze of my sudden motion was strong enough to tousle my former acquaintance's neatly combed few strands of hair.

"I've been looking all over for you," he said.

I instantly closed the distance between us and leaned in to give him a tiny peck on his handsome, clean-shaven face.

"Thank you for the save," I whispered in his ear.

He chuckled and gently placed his lips on mine.

"I rushed over to tell you that there's someone here I'm sure you'd have a lot to talk about with," he said, with that same hint of excitement.

I looked at him quizzically because I'd attended enough of these parties to know that the probability of me finding someone with whom I had common interests was slim to none.

He flashed me the same knowing smile he wore on the first night we went on a date, when he said he was sure we'd have a second one and that he would save the goodnight kiss for then, just to prove his point.

I was deep in that memory when something caught his eye behind me.

"Speak of the devil," he said as he grabbed my waist and spun me around to face what was supposed to be the obviously well-toned chest of this anonymous person Grant was so eager for me to meet.

I caught a whiff of his clean, masculine scent while stepping back to get a better view of who this person was, and "devil" was an understatement.

I locked eyes with someone I hadn't seen in a very long time, and my heart sank.

Dexter Fadden, who also went by Dex, was the CEO of a fitness center chain located across the U.S., and according to the media, he was also thinking about expanding overseas. Dex began his business by opening a small-town gym in my hometown, where I first began my career as a personal trainer.

I was considered one of his very first employees and stayed loyal to both the place and Dex until things got very complicated and I decided to leave.

"This is Dexter Fadden. He owns Fadden Fitness Enterprises," said Grant, who resembled an eager mother determined to find a friend for her child. "And this is Becky, my amazing girlfriend I was telling you about," he added.

Dex stood across from me with a hint of a devilish smile, not breaking eye contact, waiting for my response.

I reckoned he knew I was debating whether to confess that we knew each other or continue the act of being newly acquainted guests. He left the decision for me to make.

The thing is, Dex was a part of my life I hadn't told Grant about. It was a time in my past I'd decided to keep to myself. But seeing it beginning to surface made my stomach churn in anticipation.

Panic overcame me, and I found myself reaching out for a handshake.

"It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Fadden. I've heard only good things about your outstanding line of work," I said, using all my willpower to sound as calm and collected as I should have been.

"Please, my friends call me Dex," he said while accepting my handshake, burying my hand in his huge, calloused one.

The impact of that familiar touch gave me the worst case of goosebumps, and I hoped no one noticed.

Grant placed a hand on my lower back and pulled us closer together, as if he had caught on to the way Dex was staring at me and wanted to assert that I was off-limits.

I was beginning to find comfort in his closeness when some of the senior members of the board called for him. He apologized to both Dex and me, placed a kiss on my temple, and hurried toward them.

I looked to where he was headed, just to give myself an idea of where to find him later so we could finally put an end to this night—but not before I had a drink to ease the tension overpowering me.

I looked back to where Dex was standing and caught his dark eyes boring into me. He gave me one of those deep, soul-searching looks he used to give me before everything went horribly wrong.

I wanted to put an end to this situation as soon as possible and run to the bar to get myself the drink I was suddenly desperate for.

"Nice seeing you again," I said as casually as I could, though a slight tremor lingered in the back of my throat.

"Enjoy the rest of your night," I added, trying to shut down any attempt he might make to continue this awkward encounter.

He slightly parted his lips to say something when I turned around and made my way as quickly as possible toward the open bar.

I plopped down on a bar stool and asked the bartender for a vodka cranberry.

The bartender had just placed my drink on the white coaster I'd been fidgeting with when I felt the dark, heavy presence of Dex beside me.

"A double bourbon," he said in his low, deep voice, then slightly tilted his well-built frame, just enough to catch a glimpse of me.

I fidgeted in my seat but collected myself and stole occasional glances from the corner of my eye, just to remain aware of my surroundings.

"You look breathtaking, as you always do, meaning you haven't changed at all."

He said it almost in a whisper.

"Thank you," I said, staring into the red liquid of my drink, trying to keep my responses short in the hope that he'd take the hint and leave me alone.

"Just so you know," he said in the same low volume as before, "I knew it was you long before you turned around."

What he said caught me by surprise, and I unconsciously turned to meet his gaze. But I remained silent, waiting for him to finish.

He picked up on my reaction, smirked slightly, and continued.

"I would always recognize that scent from miles away. My sheets were once infused with it."

He downed the rest of his drink and walked away.