“Fuck ’em,” Marianne said, holding up her glass in a toast. “My parents didn’t like your parents, by the way. Did you ever know that? They never said anything until after Zach was born, because I think they were hoping once the baby arrived they’d snap out of it.”
“No snapping,” Kara said sadly.
“No snapping,” Marianne agreed. “But you figured it out. Why? Because you’re awesome. That’s why.”
“And because I had a great support system, which included Marianne’s parents. I found another gym that let me bring in Zach and leave him with the child care people, unless they were swamped. Then he went in a sling with me at the front desk. I had amazing shoulders and back muscles that fall.”
“I bet. How hard,” Reagan murmured, “to be nineteen and doing it all on your own.”
“Yeah. Zach wasn’t much help in those days.” She laughed. “I would watch all these yoga mommies—that’s what my manager called them.” She grinned when Reagan’s eyebrows winged up. “You know, the ones who don’t work, and come in carrying an iced green tea from Starbucks, wearing the matching, gorgeous yoga outfits that coordinate with their personalized yoga mats and their kids always match and look adorable, and they do the yoga class because it won’t get them sweaty and then they all go out for lunch together. The yoga mommies.”
“Huh.” Reagan nodded slowly. “I could be a yoga mommy. Just, you know, without the yoga.”
“It’s required. Sorry. I would watch these women go in there, and I would think ‘Wouldn’t it be nice if coming to the gym was my break instead of the main stressor in my life?’ So one day, after my shift, I stayed and did a class. I had no clue what I was doing. I looked like an idiot.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.”
Marianne lifted a shoulder. “It’s probably true.”
Reagan slapped at Marianne’s knee.
“It’s true. I did. I was never really an athlete like some people.” She shot Marianne a glance. “But afterward, I felt so . . . alive.” That made her feel bad. “That sounds awful. Like having Zach wasn’t living. But this was something just for me. Mine alone. So I kept going back. I was the loser in the back of the studio in the cutoff jeans and gym employee polo—because I couldn’t afford real workout clothes—with the ungainly posture.”
“And now you teach it.”
“Teaching brought me more per hour than working the desk handing out towels. And I got bonuses if I had so many people per class. I added in Pilates because it complemented the workout. And I love it. It’s not work anymore.”
“See that dreamy look in her eyes?” Marianne grinned and bumped shoulders with Reagan. “That’s how I want her to look at a guy someday.”
“She will,” Reagan said, looking defensive. “She’s just not ready yet.”
“One day,” Kara said. “One day.” When someone knocked on the door, she glanced at her friends. “Are the guys picking you up?”
“I told Brad I’d text him when we were done, since we would be drinking.” Marianne checked her phone with a frown. “But I don’t think that’s him.”
Kara stood and walked to the front door. A quick check at the peephole had her flattening her back against the door. “It’s Graham,” she whispered. “What do I do?”
Both girls looked expectantly at her. After a moment, Graham knocked again.
“Open it,” Reagan mouthed.
Marianne pointed at Reagan and nodded in agreement.
“I can’t,” Kara mouthed back.
Marianne rolled her eyes and walked to the door, pushing Kara out of the way and opening it with a flourish. “Graham, hey.”
Kara listened as Graham paused. “Where’s Kara?”
She covered her face.
“Let’s find out. Come on in.” Marianne hauled him in and straight over to the couch. “What brings you to our little girl fest?”
“Girl fest? I thought this was where Kara was showing you guys how to use Zach’s EpiPens? I wanted to come by and learn.”
Her heart melted. She closed the front door and walked out from behind it. “Hey.”
He turned, and her mouth watered. In a dark polo that looked amazing with his perma-tanned skin, dark hair and darker eyes, jeans and boots, he was delicious. “Where’d you come from?”
“Never mind that. You wanted to see the EpiPens?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking a little embarrassed. “I didn’t realize this was a girl thing. I can go.”
She caught his arm as he started to walk toward the door. “No, stay.” When he hesitated, she squeezed gently. It was like squeezing a PVC pipe . . . a thick one. “You’re right, that was the main point of tonight’s get-together. So let’s do it.”
When he raised a brow, she flushed. Oh God . . . “Not . . . I mean, not do . . . it . . .” she finished weakly. “I’m gonna go get the pens.” She ran toward the kitchen before she said something stupid.
More stupid. As if there was something more stupid than that.
*
GRAHAM wiped his damp palms on his jeans and looked at the two women sitting on the couch, staring as if they were watching a movie in a theater. “What?”
“Nothing,” Reagan said softly. “I’m just feeling a little warm. Is it warm?” she asked Marianne.