The Real

After only a week, with Cameron’s encouragement, I was getting to the point that I could keep his pace despite his longer stride, though I was sure he made allowances. But I’d been speed walking aro

und Chicago for a little over ten years, so I already had a fair amount of stamina. And it helped. I was becoming a runner, and the knowledge of that had me blissful as he glanced back at me with a smile.

We didn’t venture far. Cameron told me he wasn’t pushing his luck. But he did bring me to a break in the trees the led to a breathtaking view of a large pond. Surrounded in a winter wonderland, I appreciated everything about the silence that engulfed us. It was a picture-perfect storybook type of isolation with the only person in the world I would want to share it with.

“Not so bad, is it?” he asked, looking back at me as I scoured the sight in front of us.

“It’s beautiful,” I answered, catching my breath before walking toward a small dock.

“There’s a little boat out in the shed next to the house. I saw it last night when I was grilling. I’ll bring you back here this summer and you can read me poetry or Jane Austen, while I row you around.”

“Let’s not get too carried away, Casanova.”

“Too late,” he said as his eyes swept over me. “Too fucking late.” He tugged at my hand, pulling me to him. “You can’t run too much in those boots. It’s not good for you.”

“I know. I just don’t want to break the routine.”

“I’m proud of you. You don’t even look like you want to kick my ass when I show up at your door in the morning.”

“Oh, but I still do,” I said as we shared a grin.

“And it’s just the beginning. Wait until you run your first 5K,” he said with a wink.

A rush of emotion swept over me as I looked up at him.

“What are you thinking?”

I swallowed.

“Okay,” he said playfully, “now I have to know.”

“I don’t know how to say this without geeking out.”

“Abbie, you can tell me anything.”

“It’s just . . .” I frowned to keep my chin from wobbling, but the tears sprang up anyway.

“Baby, what is it?” he asked, his hands cupping my face.

“It’s like when people say they can’t swim, I have a hard time believing them because it came so naturally to me. Some people are terrified of the water, and treading it seems simplistic. I mean, it’s not exactly swimming, but it serves the purpose. For most, it’s like a natural reflex. But treading water isn’t swimming.”

“Okay,” he said, biting his lip.

“Okay, so, shit.” A tear fell, and before I could wipe it away, he leaned in and took it with his lips as my heart swelled.

“I feel like before I met you, I was treading water and . . . God, am I making any sense right now?”

“Perfect sense,” he said softly.

“It’s not just running, Cameron. It’s us too.”

“I feel the same, more than I can explain. More than you could ever know.” He searched my eyes. “Why couldn’t I have met you ten years ago?” he added, taking me by surprise. “What were you doing when you were twenty-three, Abbie?”

“College, then work—so much work. I worked too hard.”

“Same here. I can’t say I did one significant thing in my life then, besides becoming a coach. And seeing your face right now is such a high. I love watching it happen. You thank me, but you are the one who did all the hard work.”

I shook my head. “No, you don’t get it. I gave up. Without you, I wouldn’t have given running a second thought again. I never thought I could be that woman. This woman. It seems simplistic, but it’s anything but for me. Running has been my Achilles heel my whole life. My whole life,” I said as my chin wobbled and more tears threatened. “So, thank you.”