“You’re right, of course you’re right.” She held a hand up in agreement. “It’s just... Rook had to be up here early this morning, and well, I guess... He heard me showering?”
“Why were you even showering here? What’s wrong with the shower at your house?” One look at her face, and I knew the answer—she was as horny as he was. “You know what? Just forget it.”
I shook my head and did a little growl. “I’m feeling tense. I’ll take off early today, decompress over the weekend, and we’ll just forget the whole thing.”
Her hot-pink lips pressed together, and she gave me a little smile. “I’ll try not to let it happen again.”
I suppressed an eye-roll before taking another long sip of my breakfast. “I would really appreciate that.”
The women were filtering in for her class, all dressed in booty shorts and neon spandex just like their instructor. They were as bubbly and festive as she was, but a few steps behind them, a short, slightly stooped elderly woman followed. She was dressed in cotton sweats, very old-school and real, and she wore small glasses.
“Mrs. Clarkson!” I called, giving her a wave. “Over here.”
Confusion left her face when she saw me waving, and she smiled. “Kendra!” She held a hand straight up, and I laughed, thinking of Rook’s silly motivational posters. We were signaling each other across the Amazon—familiar tribe here.
“Come on.” I caught her hand and led her in the opposite direction, toward the free weights and the machines where I’d work with her on strength training and balance. We got started with our first circuit: curls.
“Keep your elbows in line with your shoulder.” I lightly touched her joints as Mrs. Clarkson curled the four-pound dumbbells toward her chest. “That’s right.”
She exhaled a laugh as she lowered the weights. “I’m such a weakling. I don’t know how you have the patience for me.”
“No way, you’re doing great!” I easily lifted the small purple hand weights she used, but as I turned, I caught the shimmer in her eyes. “Are you okay? Was that too heavy?”
She hastened to reassure me. “Oh, I’m fine! I’m fine.” But her voice trailed off on the second fine.
Guiding her workout had eased the irritation... frustration? simmering in my chest over this morning’s shower surprise, so I gently tried again. “It’s okay if you want to talk.”
Mrs. Clarkson was about the same size as I was, five foot, just at one hundred pounds. She was also forty years older than me, and while I was basically all muscle, she was working to get hers back.
She gave me a tired smile. “It’s Friday. I don’t want to spoil your weekend fun with my old problems.”
Blinking down, I helped her lean forward, her knee on the bench, as she slowly extended her elbow behind her, dumbbell in hand.
After I was sure her form was correct, I answered. “My fun weekend will most likely consist of lying around on the couch watching television.”
“Boyfriend out of town?”
“No.” I shook my head, exhaling a laugh. “No boyfriend. Not for me.”
Switching the weight to her other hand, we rearranged her position. She didn’t say anything, but I could tell the wheels were turning in her head.
I gave her a little wink and a smile. “So tell me why your fine doesn’t sound so convincing.”
She shook her head. “It’s just an anniversary. George and I would’ve been together fifty years today.”
Taking a step back, my eyebrows rose. “Fifty?”
A smile softened her face at my look of shock. “People got married younger back then.”
“I’ll say. You must’ve only been, what? Eighteen?”
She nodded setting the weight on the rack. “That’s right. And we had forty loving years together.”
The idea of that teased an old ache in my chest, a fantasy I thought I had moved past clinging to—what my life might have been like if only... My inner masochist forced me to ask, “Do you still miss him?”
“Every day.” Her scratchy voice was just above a whisper.