Page 21 of Matched with Her Athlete Boss
We get some food and then drop him off, heading back to my house. His words echo in my brain. It might not have been a TED talk to anyone else, but his words definitely light a fire underneath me. Maybe there is still hope for my future yet.
9
KENZIE
Who knew that clothes could weigh so much?
I’m back at my dad’s house Monday morning, doing everything I can to get through the heap in the bedroom. Dad promised me before heading into work that he had picked out everything he wanted to keep from the bedroom.
It took some finagling, but I dropped off Trey’s car the night before, and have endured a lot of teasing from my roommates since. I picture Trey’s home, and aside from the not-quite-unpacked look of the garage and its many boxes, I wonder what his style is. Modern, sporty, eclectic. Probably not the trash collecting kind, at least, I hope.
The smell of body odor is only worse the more I dig into this stuff, and I have to keep the mask in place to avoid gagging.
My phone rings from an unknown number and I let it go to voicemail. I’ve got things to do and if people really need me, they’ll either text or leave a message.
I haul out another two black garbage sacks to the side of the house. A dumpster is supposed to show up today and I’ll need to use one of my half-brothers’ trucks to get the clothes taken to a donation store. I’m not sure how many major hoarding jobs I’ll get in the future, but these details are good to know for future possibilities.
Leaning against the banister that surrounds the back steps, I check the voicemail.
“Hi Kenzie, this is Meg with Love, Austen. I appreciate you filling out the survey about past clients. It was so helpful in what we’re trying to fix here. I also have the gift card promised to you. I’ll be at our office until about two and then I have to run to my daughter’s checkup. I’d love to chat with you more once you come in.”
The message ends. Why would she want to chat with me more?
I’d finished the survey on Friday but didn’t press the send button until Sunday afternoon. They must be desperate or really on top of things to have the gift card so quickly. But I’ll use it to get me through at least two weeks’ worth of groceries.
The work is long and slow. I’ve hauled out so many bags of garbage and clothing that I won’t need to work out my biceps for at least a month.
I need a break and some sustenance to help me tackle the rest of the day. There are several fast-food places a couple minutes away from my dad’s house, so I grab a sandwich and sit in my car outside his house.
The dumpster is there, which will make it so I’m not moving the bags twice.
I open a new message and text my brother, Damian.
Me:Hey, can I borrow your truck tomorrow?
Knowing him, he’s probably zoned out at work for another few hours. Everything should be on track for now though. This project is going to take me at least a month, unless I can get some people in to help me. My brothers would be a good option. Maybe my roommates would be willing to help for a day as well.
Damian:Sure. What for?
Me: Dad’s house. He’s hired me to clean it.
Damian:Really? He let you back in there?
I laugh and shake my head. One thing I love about having older brothers is that there is either fighting or laughter.
Damian:Oh, sorry. I forgot the truck has to go in to the shop for a few repairs. I’ll let you know when it’s out and we’ll come help with the cleanup.
I’m drawn to the message from the owner of Love, Austen. A year ago, I raved about how amazing their program was. How else would I have met Donovan?
He’d been a charming sales rep and we meshed on so many things. Our love of comedy and mysteries, getting outside and enjoying nature. The one thing that is now a glaring difference was that he disliked all organized sports. Me, thinking it wasn’t a big deal, conformed to that, and I’d gotten away from the weeknight hockey games with my family. The day he proposed, I thought my life was near perfect. And then he went on a work trip and came home with stars in his eyes for someone whom I couldn’t compete with.
But now, as I think about him, I realize that there were some red flags I’d chosen to overlook. The guy was gone two to three weeks out of every month. That would’ve been like seeing distant relatives rather than my spouse. I had distanced myself from my dad and brothers, as well as my group of friends. This all imploded a few weeks before Hillary’s would-be wedding, and the aftermath wasn’t pretty.
I’d gone through the cycle of crying, anger, resolving to be happy and then back again.
Did we match on a lot of similar interests? Yes. But was there ever that spark of chemistry I’d expected to feel?
I search through memories, trying to find something that validates the thought. But there’s nothing. Our kisses were fun and passionate, but maybe it was lame to dream about someone knocking me into the next realm with chemistry.
