The Finish Line by Vania Rheault

Author:Vania Rheault [Rheault, Vania]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781734405866
Publisher: Coffee & Kisses Press
Published: 2020-06-15T16:00:00+00:00

Ian

Ian woke to an empty house.

Though he was grateful for the undisturbed hours of sleep, it let him down, too. No sloppy kisses from Shyla to wake him up, no scent of coffee and pancakes to make his stomach grumble. No Hannah in the kitchen slamming toys on her highchair tray as she waited for Sadie to make her a bowl of infant oatmeal.

Sadie needed to go to campus to speak to her advisor about fall semester classes, and Marta would be at race headquarters doing her thing while the girls were at daycare.

He had the day free, and he started by grabbing a cup of coffee from the carafe Marta kept heated for him. After sipping a mug and scanning the newspaper, he started on chores.

Laundry, cleaning the bathrooms, vacuuming.

It took him a couple of hours to set the house to rights and pull out enough chicken from the freezer to feed his family of five. When the toys were put away and the towels folded, he took a shower and stopped at The Finish Line to pick up an order.

He didn’t want to get into it with Dane, and he’d said his piece to Brett last night.

Ian parked in the back and snuck into the kitchen. Bobbi’s assistant handed him a to-go bag and he shot her a smile before slinking out to his car, hopefully undetected.

Marta sat at her desk talking on the phone when he stepped into marathon headquarters, and she brightened when she saw him. “Sounds good. Thanks. Bye.” She hung up. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d bring my beautiful fiancée lunch. Do you have a problem with that?”

She grinned. “Nope, as long as that beautiful fiancée is me.”

“Then it’s your lucky day.”

“Come into the back. Too noisy in here.”

Ian followed her down the little hallway, past a break room where three runners sat arguing. They quieted when Marta passed by and lowered their eyes.

“What’s that about?” he asked, closing the door to a small office with a desk.

“They feel bad I can’t run anymore. It’s like shooting a Kentucky Derby winner when he breaks a leg. There’s a . . . tragedy about it, I guess. I used to let it bother me, but now I just take it for the sympathy it is.”

“Do you miss it?” Ian asked, unpacking the chicken strips she liked, and a thick, greasy, bacon cheeseburger for himself.

Marta pushed a chair closer to his and pulled two bottles of water out of a little cooler. “Running? I thought I would. Apart from what I kept telling myself I gave up to keep doing it.” She ran a finger along his clean-shaven cheek, and he caught her hand and kissed her palm. “But I think of all I received in return, and I don’t. Running brought me to you. I came back to Minnesota because of the sport, but it’s gone and I’m still here.”

Ian blinked and hoped she didn’t see the tears making his vision waver. That was probably the most honest thing she’d ever told him about her still being in Minnesota.

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