Getting eaten by sharks would have been a sweet relief at that point.
I had barely slept all night. I kept trying to rewrite that moment, going back to the second she’d told me she loved me, and saying it right then, or better yet—telling her I loved her as soon as she walked into my gym that first time, because even then on some level I knew that it was true.
I left her a note: Off to Indian Beach. Be back by 11. Already fed LB. xo
I wrote “xo” like a fucking teenage girl, because I couldn’t even write the words “I love you.”
It was bad. How could hearing the woman you love say “I love you” make you feel so bad about yourself? Something was off.
Maybe it was a mistake to bring her on my first surf outing of the year. I always got my best ideas when I was surfing—because I could stop thinking. But as I paddled out on my board, I couldn’t stop thinking about Vivian.
Watch the waves, just watch the waves.
The fucking waves reminded me of Vivian having an orgasm.
It was just me and the Pacific Ocean and lord knows what was floating below me.
This is how it feels. This is exactly how it feels with Vivian. Huge. Stunningly beautiful. Life-giving. Potentially terrifying. Completely out of my control. Everything.
I was so mesmerized by the thought that I didn’t pay attention to the wave coming in at me. I jumped up on my board too late and wiped out in the most pathetic way, it was humiliating. Fortunately no one was around to see it. But as I swam back to my board and clung to it, I knew I was losing my focus and I couldn’t let that happen. I survived getting knocked off my board—this was nothing. It should be so easy to enjoy the ride with her, but Vivian was the one person on Earth who could make me lose my balance.
I realized what I needed to do—I needed to be Mitch. Not Fat Brad, not Hot Brad. Not Brad. Mitch. Mitch was the man. Mitch was the shit. Mitch always stayed focused and kept a low center of gravity. I was Mitch at the gym. I was Mitch out on the waves. Mitch stayed in the curl. He didn’t think about sharks or who was waiting for him back at the room.
I wish I could say that I was Brad again when I got back to the room and found Vivian all packed up and waiting for me with breakfast. I wish I could tell you that when I saw how nervous she was, unable to look me in the eyes, I took her beautiful face in my hands and kissed her all over and told her that I loved her a thousand times. But Mitch is a tough guy to shake, especially after he’s ridden some pretty decent waves for a couple of hours and mastered cross stepping a longboard. He told her how he felt with his body, but the words didn’t come, even when he did.
Because what if I tell her I love her, give everything that I am to her, and it turns out that isn’t enough? Then what?
Chapter Twenty
VIVIAN
Not only could I now wear the bridesmaid dress and take deep breaths in it—I could fit into my skinny jeans! My Moment of Truth Jeans, I called them. They were the ones that my sister had seen me in the last time she was in town to visit me, the ones that had given me some serious muffin top.
Ladies and gentlemen—the muffin top was now gone.
All it took to get rid of that last stubborn layer of fat was telling my supposed boyfriend that I loved him while crying from my nose and not eating for days afterwards because I felt on edge and totally nauseous!
And no, I wasn't pregnant. I got my period the day we got back from Cannon Beach--the perfect excuse to not see him for a few days--not that he was begging to see me.
He wasn't.
He wasn't avoiding me, but he didn't ask to see me.
He texted me once every morning, noon and night, to check in, like a boyfriend app.
Brad was benching me.
I was almost sure of it.
I only had two sessions left with Sebastian. I filled out the weekly questionnaire.
What is your ultimate goal for the personal training sessions? – Endurance and flexibility.
Why? — So I can roll with the punches. And also punch Mitch for as long as necessary, from different angles
Water? – Tons! Enough to drown Brad Mitchell in!
Strengths? — Determined to get through this
Weaknesses? Brad Mitchell
Body – 9
Energy – 9
Confidence level – 6
Sense of well-being – 6.25
Yeah. In certain ways, I felt worse off than when I’d started. I was completely certain that it was temporary, but I decided to lie about it in the version that I actually sent to Sebastian anyway.
I tried to convince myself that this was Brad’s final gift to me as a personal trainer—that he knew that stress was what I needed to burn those extra calories.
I’d had a good day at work and was almost happy when I went to the gym. I’d gone out for lunch with Frankie and the other paralegals because it was one of their birthdays, and I still had a little bit of a champagne buzz by evening. I almost didn’t care that I finally told Brad that I loved him and he didn’t say it back. I didn’t care about that when I’d said “I love you” to him. I hadn’t cared about it when he was kissing me or fucking me. I found it odd that he didn’t even say it when he climaxed. Now that so many days had passed since I’d said it, and we were in such a weird place, I really wasn’t sure where I stood with him. Maybe it was over. Like, all over. Had I really ruined everything by telling him how I felt?
Or…
Or.
Or had I just internalized all of the blame for what happened to Brad in high school? Was I now blaming myself for absolutely everything? Holy shit—was I in an unhealthy relationship with him?
No.
No?
No.
Brad was my best friend. He really was. Even now. He was struggling with something, and I knew I should just let him deal with it on his own time, in his own way. My brain was tricking me into feeling angry, so I didn’t have to feel humiliated. I guess this is what Brad/Mitch was talking about when I’d first started training with him—I should channel the anger into workout fuel.
I was very grateful that I had a session. That would stop me from obsessing. It would get me out of my head and into my body. Into the moment. When I got to the gym for my session with Sebastian, Brad wasn’t there, and Sebastian was crabby because he was coming down with something. He was wearing a medical face mask, kept squirting anti-bacterial gel on his hands, and didn’t touch me or the equipment.
He told me that before he started working out regularly, his friends and family called him Sebastian the Crab. Because he was always so moody. Exercising changed his temperament. “Except for today.”
I wondered aloud, as I did my push-ups, why Mitch was so moody if he was always working out three hours a day.
“Well, we can all be grouchy when we aren’t at the gym. We have to be completely focused on our clients all day. Stay positive and focused. It’s exhausting. Look at me, I don’t even have time to be sick. Don’t sweat it—just enjoy the sex while you can.”
“What do you mean while I can?”
“I mean, while this little revenge fantasy thing is playing out. I mean. Wait.”
“I don’t have a revenge fantasy.”
“I know. I was thinking about someone else. Never mind! Do fifty crunches. Now.”
I stopped doing push-ups and kneeled on the mat, looking up at him. I couldn’t see his big mouth under that medical mask, but I studied his glassy eyes, and I could see that he wasn’t teasing me or joking. He was nervous. He had said something that he realized he shouldn’t have.
“Sebastian. Is Brad just fucking me as part of some revenge plot because he thinks I broke his heart in high school?”
“No talking—crunch.”
I gave him a look that told him I would crunch his nuts if he didn’t fess up immediately and he knew that I would too.
“Oh my God. Why didn’t I stay home today? It’s just something he said in passing, back when you first started coming
here. And then when he had me take over. It doesn’t mean anything—people say shit! He’s totally into you—at least you’re part of his fantasy and you get to have sex with him! Everyone wins! Do you have any idea how many people would kill to have him take revenge all over them?”
What…the…everloving fuck.
No wonder he didn’t tell me he loved me.
He doesn’t.
He just got what he wanted.
Sebastian sneezed into his face mask. “Shit.”
“You should go home,” I said. “I have to too.”
“Wait—just forget what I said—I’m sure he’s changed his mind now. Honey—please don’t…”
I left. I grabbed my bag and left. I didn’t cool down or stretch. I went home and lay in bed and stared up at the ceiling all night. I didn’t feel like drinking wine or eating pie or singing girly angst songs. I just felt. I felt too much to move. I could barely breathe. I didn’t answer Brad’s texts or even his call when he finally rang me.
It didn’t matter if he’d changed his mind.
The fact that he’d ever had the idea of purposefully breaking my heart meant that he wasn’t the Brad I thought I knew.
It changed everything.
Chapter Twenty-One
BRAD
I was in my office at the gym. I had forty-five minutes between clients and I was going out of my mind. Vivian hadn’t responded to my texts since the afternoon before and she hadn’t called me back. I sent her a text telling her that if she didn’t answer or respond I would be coming to her house in five minutes.
Thirty seconds later, my phone rang. It was Vivian.
“Thank God. Are you okay?”
“I was just…tired.”
“Oh. Are you sick? Sebastian went home sick last night.”
“I know. I’m not sick.”
“Good…Hi.” I stroked the top of the desk, where she had laid out before me, quietly writhing and moaning, more than once. I had gone days without actually speaking to her, avoiding verbal conversations because I was waiting for the right time to tell her how I felt. Now that I was hearing her voice again, my armor was melting away. Which was exactly what I was afraid would happen.
There was quite a long pause on her end. “Hi.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know exactly. What’s wrong with you, Mitch?”
Why are you calling me Mitch when you’re not at the gym? “Why don’t we save some time and you just tell me what’s wrong with me.”
She sighed loudly and said nothing.
“Do you want me to come over?
“Do you want to come over?”
“It sounds like we need to talk.”
“Do we?”
“Are you going to answer everything with a question?”
“Should I have been asking more questions all along?”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“See. You’re doing it too.”
I laughed a little, felt relieved. “You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”
“Funny you should say that.”
I waited for more from her, but she didn’t say anything. “What? What is going on with you?”
She cleared her throat. “Listen, I’ve been thinking about it, and it’s probably not a good idea for you to come to the wedding with me.”
“What?”
What?
WHAT?!
“I don’t want to pressure you into anything, and I’ll be busy with my sister the whole weekend. I should be free to devote my attention to her, anyway. You’re off the hook.”
I didn’t respond right away.
“Did you hear me?”
“Yes. I heard you. I never felt on the hook, Vivian.”
“I’m sure you didn’t.”
“What does that—what is going on with you?”
“Nothing. I have to go. Listen, I’m…when everything blows over, I hope we can be friends again. I don’t want to lose touch like we did before. But I don’t think I can see you for a while. Bye, Brad.”
Silence.
“What do you mean for a while?...Vivian? When what blows over?”
Silence.
She’d hung up.
Someone knocked on my office door, startling me. I opened it immediately, thinking it would be Vivian standing there, telling me she was just kidding—psych!
It wasn’t Vivian.
It was Marnie, telling me that we had a surprise drop-in from a potential investor. I had to get into business-mode immediately to show him around the gym and dazzle him with my fit body and sound mind. I would have to have the briefest, quietest, most efficient meltdown in the history of meltdowns.
I told Marnie to give me one minute, shut the door, and silent-screamed: “WHAT. THE. FUUUUUUUUUUCK?!”
I punched at the air.
Why tell me that she loves me?
Was she just messing with me?
Is that the adult version of practice kissing?
Yeah, I guess it is.
Did her ex show up?
Did she change her mind about him?
Did she meet someone new?
Did she decide her hot new body needed to get out there and experience new people?
What.
The.
Fuck is it about Orcas Island that makes her want to drop me?!
I can’t believe this is happening.
Again.
Chapter Twenty-Two
VIVIAN
“He really hasn’t called?”
Frankie had offered to drive me to the airport Friday at lunch, after pestering me to find out why I looked so sad. It wasn’t a particularly long drive, but I was so grateful that she’d offered. I hadn’t wanted to tell anyone what happened with Brad, because it felt so humiliating. And, truthfully, I was hoping that at the last minute he’d show up in front of my house (in a white T-shirt and jeans in the pouring rain at night) and tell me it was all a terrible misunderstanding and that he loved me and of course he was going with me to my sister’s wedding, and we’d kiss and he’d lift me off the ground and twirl me around and then one day I’d get Alzheimer’s and he’d tell me all about our love story over and over every day. Well I didn’t hope to get Alzheimer’s, of course not, but you know what I mean.
But he didn’t. The week that followed my phone conversation with Brad was a blur. I didn’t go to the gym and I didn’t have to cancel my appointments with Sebastian because he canceled them first. He stayed home all week with the flu. I didn’t talk to Brad after telling him he didn’t have to go to the wedding with me.
“He hasn’t called or texted. It’s over.”
“No! It can’t be over.”
“I mean, I told him that I still want to be friends again eventually.”
“You did? You said that?”
“Of course I did. He’s my oldest friend here, no matter what has happened between us…or why…I don’t want him out of my life completely.”
“So have you forgiven him?”
“Hell no. Not yet.”
“I just think it must be some kind of a misunderstanding. I mean, why would a guy come pick you up at a party and take care of you when you’re drunk if all he cared about was getting revenge? It doesn’t make sense.”
“His thought process has never really made a lot of sense to me, you know? He’s the most stubborn person I’ve ever met.”
She snorted. “Have you met yourself?”
“He’s the most stubborn man I’ve ever met. Do you think I’m being stubborn now? Did I overreact?”
“Well…I mean, if it’s true, then no. Fuck him. No one should bear a grudge for that long. It’s not like you bullied him. But if it’s more complicated than that…”
“Who cares if it’s more complicated than that? He wanted to hurt me. Emotionally. That is not okay.”
“No. It isn’t. You’re right.” She patted me on the knee.
That small touch reminded me of when Brad had
driven us to Cannon Beach and had his hand on my leg the whole way there, and my guts ached. I tried to push that memory aside. But I couldn’t. “I miss him like crazy.”
“Well, yeah. Of course.”
“But it’s like—am I just missing some mental construct of him? The sweet Brad that I was friends with in high school, inside the beautiful face and body that I lusted after. Did that guy that I was in love with even exist? Fuck, I’m so confused.”
“Yeah.”
“I can’t…I can’t think about it anymore.”
“Yeah. You’re a maid of honor. You gotta focus on that.”
“Yeah.”
We pulled up to the Alaska Airlines departures drop-off area. “Thank you so much for driving me.” I leaned in to hug her.
“I just can’t believe he didn’t call.”
I smiled at her. “See you next week.”
“Have fun!”
“I’ll try.”
“Oh shit—I forgot you have to see your ex and his fiancée too! Ugh sorry! But have fun! You look fantastic—and I do not use that word lightly!”
I got out of the car and gave her a faux-enthusiastic thumbs up.
It wasn’t until I was on the ferry to the San Juan Islands, and saw the pod of Killer Whales in the distance, that I allowed myself to feel just how much I wished Brad was with me to experience everything. Whoever he was. My Brad, the one I loved. I mean—do we ever really know another person? It was so fucking beautiful, and I had wanted to experience all beautiful things with him.
I realized that I hadn’t told Aubrey that Brad wasn’t coming.
I realized that my parents would be expecting to see him.
I realized that I would have to face Connor and Slutface alone.
I realized I had experienced two breakups within half a year.
“Don’t jump,” said a man’s voice from behind me.
I realized I was leaning against the railing of the ferry, staring down at the waves.
Every Inch of You Page 13