“What do you mean you’re not coming to the gym?” I ask Alice, clutching my phone tightly. I’m standing in the foyer of the gym, my usual meeting point with Ali
ce. The place is surprisingly empty for a Tuesday afternoon.
“I have a meeting, sorry,” she replies.
“And you didn’t tell me because…?” I tap my foot with impatience, eying the exit.
“You would’ve skipped the gym. Admit it.”
I sigh into the phone. “Fine, I admit it.”
“But now you’re already there, so be a good girl and work out.”
“Your motivational speech isn’t working unless you’re here with me,” I volley back. I hate exercising with a passion, but I love my sweets. I spent my early twenties avoiding any kind of exercising, relying on a young metabolism to get by. I was twenty-six the first time my sister dragged me inside a gym. I’d like to say I never looked back, but I have. I look back every time, hoping I can talk Alice out of it. Now that I’m alone… Well, I was a very good girl before Sebastian’s wedding, working out three times a week, keeping my eyes on the prize: rocking my dress. I’ve been floundering ever since the great event.
“I want a picture as proof that you worked out today,” Alice says.
Damn, my sister knows me well.
“No need to be so controlling.” I let out a dramatic sigh.
“Suck it up, sis. Think about the Jell-O.”
“Eww. Fine, I’ll work out.”
“Have to go,” Alice says. “My appointment is here. You might run into Max and Logan. They said they’d hit the gym in the afternoon.” That wouldn’t surprise me. All my brothers are sporty, and the gym is two blocks away from Bennett Enterprises.
I shut off my phone, securing my equipment bag over the shoulder, and walk to the changing rooms’ area. You can do this, Pippa. Think about the Jell-O. After coercing me into my first ever gym visit, Alice and I went out for drinks. I was complaining about my sore muscles when my sister pointed to a Jell-O the woman at a nearby table had ordered.
“That’s how your ass will end up looking if you don’t exercise,” she said. To this day, that remains a strong motivator. I like my sweets, but I like having a firm booty too.
I change into my sports bra and Lycra pants, putting my hair up in a ponytail. Then I brace myself for an hour of hell.
I start with the treadmill, putting on earbuds, turning up the volume, and listen to my favorite songs. I’m halfway through my set time (fifteen minutes) when I peek up from the timer and glance at the entrance. Max and Logan hover at the reception. Eric is with them. I haven’t seen him since last Saturday because Julie has started summer school, so she won’t come to my office anymore.
I stop the treadmill, happy for a reason to interrupt my running, and head to the reception.
“Well, hello, fellow Bennetts,” I tell my brothers. “Alice told me I might see you here.”
They each kiss my cheek and then hop on the stairs leading to the upper floor, which is where they sometimes do their workouts. Eric stays put.
“I didn’t know you work out here,” I say.
Eric gives me a crooked grin, and I fidget in my spot. “I signed up a while ago. I work out four times a week. It’s the best place to clear my mind, and it gives me energy.”
Oh, so he’s one of those weirdos who thinks the gym is therapy, coffee, and cake all rolled into one….
My skepticism must register on my face, because he asks, “You disagree?”
“I’m not a believer. I think the gym is a necessary evil.”
“Working out is good for relieving stress,” he continues.
“So is eating sweets. I prefer that. Exercising can be dangerous.”
“How so?”
“Look around. Every machine here is a potential death trap.”