Chapter 1
I’ve always loved the way the community center smells on swim team days. The sharp tang of chlorine, the humid air that curls my ponytail even tighter, and the echoing sounds of splashes and coaches’ whistles that bounce off the tiled walls. For five years, I’ve been bringing my kids here, watching them grow from uncertain paddlers to confident swimmers. For five years, I’ve also been secretly watching him—Aaron, the head lifeguard whose smile makes my stomach flip like I’m the teenager instead of the mother.
“Mom, you’re staring again,” Ellie, my fourteen-year-old, says with an exaggerated eye roll as she adjusts her swim cap over her ponytail.
I blink, caught. “I’m just looking for Coach Thompson.”
“Sure, Mom. That’s totally why you’re looking toward the lifeguard chair.” She smirks and nudges her brother. “Right, Milo?”
My ten-year-old son is too busy adjusting his goggles to participate in his sister’s teasing. “Mom, these are pinching again.”
I kneel down, grateful for the distraction, and adjust the strap on his goggles. “Better?”
He nods, and they both dash off to join their teammates at the edge of the pool. I settle onto one of the hard plastic chairs in the viewing area, pulling out my phone to check work emails. Tax season is winding down, but there are always clients with extensions or questions.
My eyes drift up from the screen almost magnetically, finding Aaron as he paces the pool deck. His movements are confident and fluid, like he belongs in this aquatic environment more than on land. His athletic build is showcased perfectly in the standard-issue red lifeguard shorts and white polo shirt with the community center logo. Droplets of water cling to his calves from his frequent trips to the edge of the pool.
I first noticed him five years ago when Milo was just starting swim lessons. I was experiencing frustration in my marriage, though I wouldn’t admit it then Chad was cheating on me with his secretary, how cliche. Something about Aaron’s patient approach with my nervous kid, the way he’d kneel down to his level, making silly faces until he laughed his fears away—it caught something in me. Something that had been dormant for too long.
“Earth to Angela,” a voice says, pulling me from my thoughts. It’s Diane, another swim team mom whose daughter is on the team with Ellie.
“Sorry, just lost in tax code amendments,” I lie, gesturing to my phone. “End of the fiscal year stuff.”
Diane nods sympathetically. “I don’t know how you keep all those numbers straight. I can barely manage my household budget.” She looks toward the pool. “The kids are looking good today. Ellie’s really improved her butterfly.”
I smile with pride. “She’s been practicing her timing. Milo’s still struggling with his breathing pattern in freestyle, but he’s determined.”
“How are you doing?” she asks, her voice softening. “It’s been almost a year now, right?”
The divorce. It’s always the subtext in conversations these days. “Thirteen months,” I nod. “We’re finding our rhythm. The kids spend every other weekend with Chad, and he takes them Tuesday nights for dinner.”
“And you? Are you...” She leaves the question hanging, but her implication is clear.
“I’m focusing on the kids and work,” I say automatically. It’s my standard response, even to myself. After fifteen years of marriage that ended with Chad’s confession about his office affair, dating hasn’t exactly been my priority. “There’s a stack of tax returns that keeps me company most nights.”
Diane laughs. “Well, tax returns won’t hog the blankets or leave the toilet seat up.”
“True, but their conversation skills are lacking.”
We’re interrupted by the sharp sound of a whistle. The kids’ practice is transitioning from individual stroke work to relay drills. Aaron is organizing the coaches, his voice carrying across the water as he calls out names and positions.
“He’s good with them,” Diane comments, following my gaze. “Single, too, from what I hear.”
I feel heat rise to my cheeks. “I wasn’t—”
“Oh, please,” she says with a knowing smile. “Half the moms here ogle him, the other half pretend not to. You’re not exactly subtle, Angela.”
I sigh, caught again. “Is it that obvious?”
“Only to someone who’s been sitting next to you for five years of swim practices.” She pats my arm. “And honey, he notices you too.”
“What? No, he doesn’t.” The thought sends a flutter through my stomach.
“Every time you walk in with the kids, his eyes follow you. You’re just always too busy getting them situated to notice.”
I’m about to protest when Aaron himself approaches our section of the bleachers. My heart does a ridiculous little leap.
“Mrs. Crawford,” he says, using the formal name I haven’t quite shaken publicly yet, “Milo’s really improving. That breathing drill we worked on last week is helping.”
“Thanks,” I manage, trying not to fixate on how his damp hair curls slightly at the temples or how his green eyes seem to hold actual flecks of gold when the fluorescent lights hit them just right. “He’s been practicing in the bathtub. My bathroom floor has permanent puddles now.”
Aaron laughs, and the sound does unfair things to my insides. “Dedication! That’s what we like to see.” He glances toward the pool. “Ellie’s butterfly is college material if she sticks with it. Has she thought about which schools yet?”
“She’s fourteen,” I say with a smile. “Right now she’s more focused on TikTok dances than college applications.”
“Fair enough.” His eyes linger on mine a moment longer than necessary. “But talent like hers, it’s never too early to consider the possibilities.”
After he walks away, Diane elbows me gently. “See? He didn’t need to come over here. The kids are doing fine. He wanted to talk to you.”
“He just good at his job,” I insist, but something warm blooms in my chest.
The rest of practice passes in a blur of splashing, coaching instructions, and my attempts to focus on answering client emails instead of stealing glances at Aaron. When the whistle blows to signal the end of practice, the kids emerge from the pool, hair plastered to their heads despite their caps, eyes red-rimmed from the chlorine.
“Mom, did you see my relay turn?” Milo asks, bouncing on his toes despite having just swum for an hour straight.
“You nailed it,” I say, handing him his towel. “Much faster today.”
Ellie is already wrapped in her towel, texting rapidly. “Hannah wants to know if I can sleep over Saturday.”
“That’s your weekend with Dad,” I remind her, gathering our bags. “You’ll need to check with him.”
She sighs dramatically, but nods. I catch Aaron’s eye across the pool deck. He smiles, raising his hand in a small wave. I wave back, feeling suddenly like the teenager I was twenty-plus years ago, when a boy’s attention could make or break my day.
The kids rush back over to their coaches to discuss additional practice, I allow myself one last glance back. Aaron is still watching us—watching me—and something in his gaze makes me wonder if Diane might be right after all. I tuck that possibility away, a small treasure to examine later, when I’m alone with my thoughts.
