Toronto Collection Volume 2 (Toronto Series #6-9)

by Heather Wardell

  Addicted to an-awful-mess-that-seems-like-love.

  "So, okay, this Andrew is cute, but still. You know how long a marathon is, right?"

  "Forty-two point two kilometers."

  She shot a look at her car's odometer. "I filled up with gas before we headed out tonight, and we've only gone seventeen K. Not even half a marathon. And doesn't it seem like we've been in the car forever?"

  It did, actually. I sighed. "I know. It's a long way. I guess... you know, I just don't feel like I'm doing much with my life."

  She pulled into the storage facility's driveway, parked, and turned to me. "Of course you are. You teach, you read, you play with Curly, you're a great friend..." She sighed. "You are. I know it. It wasn't fair to ask you to come tonight, but I just so wanted him gone."

  Touched by her concern for me, I said, "It's okay. And I know. He's got a real hold on you."

  "Like a pit bull." She sighed again. "But no more. I will wake up tomorrow with a fresh start."

  I couldn't even count how many times I'd heard that before. They occasionally got along for a week or two, and once almost for a month, but then things fell apart again and I was always forced to listen to it. With any luck this time was different.

  I didn't say anything, and she said, "But really. A marathon? You'd have to train so much, and then the race itself takes a ton of time, doesn't it?"

  I shrugged. "No idea, but it would have to, right? Jeanine, one of the women in the group, did a half marathon last year in two hours and ten minutes."

  Amanda shook her head. "So the whole thing would take over four hours? Would you be faster than her, maybe?"

  I laughed. "Given how often she passed me Friday night, I'd say not."

  "You're insane."

  We climbed out of the car and began wearily stuffing James's last few possessions into his full-to-the-rafters locker. We didn't speak for a few minutes, then she said, "I know I haven't been the best friend. But I'll make it up to you now that James is gone."

  "You've been fine," I said, lying like the cheap rug we couldn't seem to get into the locker.

  She glanced at me. "Really? Good. I just get so caught up in James." Before I could answer, she said, "He is an ass, you know."

  I did know but I just said, "Seems that way."

  "You don't even know what he said to the waitress at lunch."

  And off she went again, while I wondered how long it would be before James stopped being our primary topic of conversation.

  We finally had everything crammed into the locker and drove back to Amanda's, stopping on the way to grab ourselves congratulatory sundaes.

  "Shit," she muttered as we turned into her driveway.

  I'd have said it a lot stronger myself. James stood on the front porch with a huge bouquet of roses and a hangdog expression.

  "Drive away." The words tumbled from me before I could think them through. "Just back up and drive. Go."

  She looked at me, shocked. "I can't do that. It'd be rude."

  Yes, it would be. But all the things he'd done to her weren't?

  I didn't know how to say it, and it didn't matter because she was already out of the car. I got out too, and he turned to me. "Megan."

  "James," I returned, trying not to let my hatred of him into my voice.

  He didn't care what I thought anyhow. He was heading for Amanda. "I'm sorry. I was an idiot. I just got so excited about law school and I thought you'd support me."

  "I do support you," she said, moving toward him. "I can't pay for it though."

  What was with the "do" and "can't" stuff? She still supported him now?

  Apparently so, because he put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her close and she burst into tears and said, "I love you. I hate it when we fight."

  I shut my eyes, wishing myself anywhere but there.

  Chapter Seven

  "So what do you think?"

  I shifted in my chair, sore partly from the morning's run but mostly from hauling James's stuff around, and looked at Andrew. "I'm not sure."

  He smiled. "No pressure, of course. The experts say it's better to be running a few years before doing a marathon, and they're probably right."

  To my surprise, disappointment flooded me. Nothing like the disappointment I'd felt driving home after witnessing Amanda and James's oh-so-lovely reunion, of course, driving home with my half-melted sundae after Amanda walked into the building arm-in-arm with James while tossing a casual "Bye, Megan" over her shoulder, but disappointment nonetheless. I took a sip of my orange juice, but when the feeling didn't go away I said, "So you don't think I should do it?"

  "Hey, I ran my first one the same year I started running, so I'm hardly going to tell you not to. Like I said last time, you've got good endurance. I do think you could handle it. But if you'd rather do a few shorter races this year, or even none at all, that's cool too."

  He smiled at me again then turned to see what the MMA guys planned to do.

  Amanda was right: forty-two point two kilometers was a long way. Twenty-six point two miles. It didn't sound quite as bad that way, but of course it was. All that time on my feet, plus all the time in training beforehand. I'd thought I wanted a hobby but was this a hobby or an obsession? Could I handle the pain of pushing myself to the limit?

  "Damn straight I'm doing it."

  I looked up to see which woman had spoken and saw Jeanine smiling at Andrew. She was still cool with me but she and Andrew got along like they'd been buddies for years, or like big sister and little brother. Her actual little brother had been one of the gym's fighters, but though he'd moved away she kept running with the group because it helped her stay motivated.

  "I've done four half-marathons now so I figure I should do two fulls." She shook her toast at him for emphasis. "Right?"

  "The math makes sense," he said, smiling back. "So that's two of us. Hey, that's two marathons right there."

  They laughed and I burst out with, "How bad do you feel at the end of a marathon?"

  Andrew turned to me. "Truthfully? Every cell in your body is crying and you don't have even a drop of willpower left. So, pretty bad."

  "Then why are you doing another one?"

  The MMA guys snickered, but I hadn't been joking and Andrew knew it. He turned a little more in his seat to face me head-on. "Because there's nothing like breaking through your own limits like that. Having no willpower or energy and still finishing the race. Even if you've done it before, it's still... it's indescribable."

  I wanted to know how that felt. "You really think I can do it?"

  His calm blue eyes warmed. "You're a stronger runner now than I was when I started. If you want it badly enough, and don't let anything get in your way, you'll do it."

  He raised his eyebrows just a flicker, but I knew what he meant. I'd been late for the run, and painfully stiff at the beginning, and when he'd asked if I was sore from Friday I'd admitted that was part of it but also told him how I'd helped Amanda move and had slept through my alarm as a result. He then encouraged me to avoid too much exertion before runs but added, "But you won't have to do that again, right? Since he's gone now." His disgust with how James had been permitted to return was nearly stronger than mine and he'd been thrilled when I'd said I wouldn't help move his stuff again. I didn't know whether he realized I'd probably go back on that if Amanda were to ask me. I just couldn't say no to her.

  I nodded, to let him know I understood, and he nodded back then said, "You could always do a half this year. Still a good challenge. Then next year you can do the whole thing."

  My phone signaled a text message then, and he smiled and turned away as I reached for it.

  Any chance you're free this afternoon? Could use another car.

  A sick annoyance filled me.

  To do what?

  I knew full well what but I wanted her to say it.

  Once James wakes up, we need to bring back his stuff. Not all of it, just what he needs.

  Unless we'd stashe
d a pair of ass-kicking boots in the locker there wasn't anything I wanted to get for James.

  I shut my eyes, hating this. Not only did she want me to help, he'd be there too, and no doubt mouthing off about me and Curly and--

  "She wants help moving him back in?" Andrew said softly near my ear.

  I jumped.

  "Sorry. You look disgusted so I just guessed..."

  I nodded, and Andrew shook his head slowly. "What are you going to do?"

  I looked at the phone. I looked at the cute supportive blond man by my side.

  Then I typed a message and sent it off before I could change my mind.

  I held out the phone to him and he read it then grinned at me.

  Can't. I'm starting to train for the marathon tomorrow morning.

  *****

  Andrew and Jeanine and I turned out to be the only ones brave or foolish enough to do a marathon, so once we'd all finished eating the others left and we stayed in the café to plan our training.

  "We have thirty-one weeks until the race," Andrew said after fiddling with his phone's calendar. "That's great. My usual marathon training program is sixteen weeks so I'll work first on getting Megan to the point where she can handle the long runs and then we'll all do that program together at our own paces. Jeanine, you can get help whenever you need it, of course, but I'll be more focused on Megan until then. Cool?"

  She said yes at once, but I felt sick. It sounded like a lot more work than he should have to undertake. "I don't want to hold you back. Maybe I shouldn't do this."

  He turned to me, confused. "Did I make it sound like a problem? If so, I'm sorry."

  "No, you didn't." Awkward. My cheeks warmed and I stared at the table. "You didn't at all. I just feel like it's more trouble than I'm..."

  I trailed off, surprised at myself. More trouble than I'm worth? Really? It wasn't like he'd be carrying me on his back, after all. He'd just be guiding me through the running, and he was already doing that for me and the whole group. Why did it feel so wrong to let him help?

  A stiff silence hung over the table, then I heard a pen scratching over rough paper and looked to see Andrew writing something on a napkin while Jeanine read over his shoulder and held back a giggle. He finished with a flourish and pushed the napkin to me.

  I, Andrew Thornton, hereby swear that Megan Sharp is not holding me back. If I begin to feel that she is, I will demand this napkin be returned and our training agreement will come to an end.

  His scribbled signature was below the words, and he held out the pen. "You sign too."

  "Come on."

  He waved the pen at me. "You have to, so it's nice and legal."

  Jeanine laughed. "Not sure that counts as a legal contract, but what do I know, I'm just a paralegal. Sign it so he'll shut up."

  Her tone was affectionate, almost motherly, and so was the glance she threw at Andrew. I took the pen, blushing even more but also touched he wanted to help me, and signed my name next to his. He then carefully folded the napkin and watched while I tucked it away into my purse.

  Jeanine turned to me, her eyes warmer than usual. "This is how it works in running, you know, when you're in a group. I had help when I started, from Andrew and from others, and he probably had help too." She glanced at him and he nodded. "And so now he helps you, then eventually you help someone else."

  I had no problem with the "help someone else" part, but accepting help felt wrong. But Andrew's 'contract' made it clear he didn't mind, so I tried to push away my feeling that I was asking too much and said, "Okay."

  Jeanine's eyes narrowed. "You really feel weird about this, don't you?"

  I had to nod.

  "But why? He offered."

  But I'd offered to help lots of times when I didn't want to. What if he was doing the same? "I don't want to be in the way."

  "And you're not," Andrew said before she could answer with whatever had made her eyebrows shoot up. "So it's all good. Now, let's plan our lives for the next fifteen weeks."

  Grateful that he was moving on, I nodded and we set to work. Jeanine and Andrew knew way more about running than I did, of course, but they were also more than willing to take my input and even made some changes based on what I said. That hint of warmth in Jeanine's eyes was long gone, but as we talked and checked calendars and hashed out our plan we began to relax a little with each other.

  Once we'd finished our second cups of coffee we had our plan for the next fifteen weeks: long runs together Sunday morning that would let Andrew and Jeanine maintain their endurance and gradually get me to the required distance, speed work together Friday nights, plus two runs on our own each week.

  I looked at the last weeks of the plan and shook my head. "I'll be at nineteen kilometers by then? I can't imagine it. How far did we go today?"

  Andrew shrugged. "Five or so, I think." He turned to Jeanine. "You had your watch on, I assume?"

  "Of course. I did just under six."

  "So we did about five," he said to me. "And yes, you'll be at nineteen by then. No problem."

  "It's just hard to believe I'll be able to handle that much."

  "You will, if you stay focused."

  My phone, lying on the table, received another text as he said the last word, and Andrew gave me a half-smile and said, "Nice timing."

  It makes sense that you can't help if you're running. Thanks for last night anyhow.

  I held the phone in my hand for a moment, considering, then set it back down. I didn't have anything to say.

  Jeanine said to Andrew, "How'd your first marathon go, anyhow? My half ones have all been pretty easy, to be honest."

  He smiled. "The first half usually is. The second half... isn't, and the last ten K are worse than the whole thing put together. At my first one, I was doing great but then got caught up in a group of half-marathon runners."

  She grimaced, and I looked back and forth between them. "Why is that bad?"

  Andrew explained, "Since they're only running half the distance they're probably at a faster pace. My guys were, anyhow. I felt great at that point so I stayed with them as long as I could but then I had to slow down. But by then I'd pushed myself too hard and I couldn't recover."

  I stretched an aching arm, courtesy of James's boxes, and realized I'd done the same thing the night before and it had made the morning's run much more difficult than it should have been.

  "That's when I came up with the whole 'find your happy pace' thing," he said. "You have to figure out what's right for you and stay there."

  "How do you do that?"

  He smiled at me. "It's part of why we do so many runs. So you get used to how it feels to push yourself and know you can go through the discomfort and stay at your happy pace."

  "But how do you know what the happy pace is? Is it in a book or something?"

  His smile widened. "Afraid not. You'll have days where it's faster than you ever thought possible and probably some where it's slower than you'd be today with your feet tied together. But there's always a way to find a happy pace."

  "So it changes every day?"

  Jeanine nodded, then said, "Well, sort of. He's making it all artsy-fartsy and it isn't so much that way. Basically, you'll learn to find a groove at the start of a long run or race and settle into it. A pace you could sustain for ages. Maybe not easy, but comfortable. Right for you."

  I cringed inside. I didn't feel easy or comfortable knowing I wasn't giving Amanda everything she needed.

  Chapter Eight

  The first day of school after March Break is always insane, so I didn't see Amanda until our shared recess duty at lunch time. We stood on the playground and watched to make sure everyone was playing nicely and talked.

  At least, she talked.

  "He found out he'd missed the deadline to apply to law school so that's why he came home when he did. He doesn't think he really wanted to do it anyhow, but his work's been annoying lately so he was looking for options." She pulled her scarf tighter around her neck a
gainst the biting wind. "But he's been so sweet since he came back. He didn't even want me to come to school today since it's so cold."

  Sweet all right, encouraging her to skip work. And how lovely that I'd wasted my time and energy moving his stuff over a momentary 'wish I had a different career' impulse.

  "Tonight he wants us to go out for dinner."

  I so badly wanted to say, "Will he pay for once?" but didn't bother. Of course he wouldn't.

  "It'll be nice, you know? A romantic dinner out." She shook her head. "God, I'm glad I'm not Veronica. Bet she never gets to go out any more. With how long she's been married, she and her husband are probably more like roommates."

  Amanda probably didn't listen to Veronica at lunch, but she and her Eric did still go out, and the way she talked about him made me feel sure their ten-year relationship hadn't devolved into a roommate situation.

  I felt equally sure that sharing that with Amanda wouldn't do me any favors.

  "Dunno," I said instead. "She seems happy enough though."

  Amanda laughed. "Well, sure. She has to seem happy. Or else she has to admit she's made a mess of her life. Who wants to do that?"

  Amanda had admitted not long after I met her that she desperately wanted to be married with at least one child by the time she turned thirty. Back then, she'd been sure it would happen, but with her thirtieth birthday coming up in about six months her chances didn't look good. Whether she'd made a mess of her entire life, I couldn't say, but her love life was emphatically messy. Her resentment of Veronica for having a husband and children, everything she herself wanted, made sense but I still didn't enjoy being steeped in it.

  One of my students was throwing snow at the fence, against the rules because it invariably leads to throwing it at other students, so I took the opportunity to leave Amanda for a minute to remind him, "Snow stays on the ground." When I came back, Amanda said, "Hey, James came home a little after you left last night and he was impressed we were all done. I hope it wasn't too unbearable."

  I didn't want to talk about it. Bad enough that I'd felt so guilty I'd ended up retracting my earlier refusal and offering to help her move James's stuff back in while he was supposedly helping a friend fix his car, but I'd ended up carrying everything upstairs on my own because her legs were tired from the day before.