Chapter 1
That Wednesday, I decide, against my better judgment, to take a day off of my projects and spend a day catching bad guys. It is the first 80 degree day in Minnesota and a rare treat for April. I roll into work around 9am despite the boys not being scheduled until 1pm, so I can accomplish some emails before things pick up.
This place feels like stepping into a different dimension. Back when I was a detective, this was my store and office. A different Celeste lived this life, and memories of a different time flood back to me looking at my handwriting labeling the drawers and my decorations still outlining the bulletin board. My heart aches knowing that I will never be that girl again— and it aches for that girl knowing she never felt like enough.
I set up shop and spend the morning sending out emails arranging some training I’m conducting across the country in the next few weeks.
Both Alfie and Mars show up right on time, and they are not nearly as excited to see me as I am them. I catch them up on my uneventful morning. I ask Alfie how the store is doing, and Mars tunes us out. While chatting with Alfie, I notice the sleeves of Mars’ shirt digging into his arm and then pretend I didn’t.
After conversation with Alfie naturally dies down, I turn toward Mars, noticing the addition of cowboy boots to his wardrobe and say, “Looks like your transition to truck bro is about 85% complete.”
He laughs, “Yeah, my style is a direct reflection of my current vehicle.”
“That’s unfortunate,” I respond.
I look down at my work phone, pretend as though I have some important phone call to make, and excuse myself from the office. Once outside of the office, I try to call Liam, but he quickly texts me back that he’s still in a meeting. I decide to pick up the phone and call Hailey instead. Anything to keep me from thinking about Mars’ too tight shirt and newly purchased boots. The call with Hailey is short lived, but serves its purpose.
I make my way back into the office, and Alfie is sitting at the desk— no Mars in sight. I ask where Mars went and Alfie lets me know he left shortly after I did. I pop into the chair next to him, and as if I summoned him by asking, Mars walks in behind me.
“You following me around?” I ask.
“Huh?"
“Alfie here said you left right after me, and I just got back from a store walk myself. So naturally, you must be following me.”
“Uh, I would say that’s a jump in logic, but okay.” He rebuts.
An hour passes of endless small talk. Alfie eventually goes to do his own store walk and leaves Mars and I alone. I’m watching the cameras, but I can feel Mars stand up behind me. I take a quick glance back, and it looks like he’s giving up on the too small button up thats over his t-shirt.
“That gym life is going to cost me a whole new wardrobe,” he says.
“Yeah?” I ask.
“This shirt has been digging into my arms all morning, and I can’t take it anymore. It’s gotta go.”
I laugh, “Oh, I didn’t notice at all,” and I know he knows I’m lying, but I go with it anyway.
He takes what seems like forever, and I notice that he’s struggling. I glance behind me and it becomes clear he’s stuck. I’m not going to offer to help undress my coworker, so I let him continue his struggle. Another agonizing minute passes of him trying to take this shirt off and he suddenly says “I think I’m going to have to rip it.” I take no longer than a second to think about that and decide it would actually kill me. The thought of this man having to rip off his shirt in my presence is immediately too much for me to handle.
I turn around and his arms are pinned behind his back with the shirt around his biceps allowing for almost no movement. I quickly realize that he really is completely stuck. “Do you need help?” I give in and ask.
“I think I’m going to need it,” he laughs, “That or I’m going to have to rip it off.”
He walks over to me and I stand up out of my chair to face him. I walk over to his left side and see his bicep tattoo peeking out from under the sleeve. I slowly reach up and pull on the hem of the sleeve, and my fingers brush his arm as I free his first arm. The incidental contact makes me blush, and I ask him if he needs help with the other side. He nods then turns around as we repeat the process.
“Thank you,” he says as he finishes removing the shirt, crumples it, and then throws it into his bag.
“You’re welcome,” I respond as I sit back down. It comes out too sweet, and, in that moment, I know that I’m showing him all of my cards. The rest of the day is uneventful, and I spend most of it trying not to imagine things that don’t exist between Mars and I.
