Fit for You

by Cynthia Tennent

  “You could have fooled me.” I stole his apple and took a bite.

  “Are you sure she wasn’t your first love or something?” The apple tasted like sawdust at the thought of Aubrey and Edge together.

  “God no! We went to senior prom in high school. It was the worst date of my life. We were supposed to be friends and she was all over me.” He ran his hand over his eyes. “Keep the apple. You just made me lose my appetite.”

  “Me too.” I put the apple on the counter. “I’m still missing something.”

  “Aubrey ended up being good friends with someone I was with for a while.”

  The person whose name had been mentioned at the dinner table one night. A skier. “Julie . . . Jane . . . Jackie?”

  His lips lost all color as they pressed together. “Jackie. Jackie Durham.”

  My jaw dropped.

  “Heard of her, have you?” he said sarcastically.

  “Olympic gold-medal winner?”

  “Two golds and a silver so far.”

  “You and Jackie Durham were together?”

  “Engaged.”

  A moment ago I was trying to hold my stomach at the thought of Edge and Aubrey. Now I was trying to resist the overwhelming feeling of awe. A man I slept with had been engaged to an Olympic medalist. It was like one degree of separation between me and the sports hall of fame.

  “Feel free to wipe that look of surprise off your face. I know it seems like a crazy thing. But back in the day when we were on the skiing circuit, we were both in line for glory on the slopes.” He leaned against the counter. “At least that’s what I thought. Aubrey Vanderbeek told Jackie I would never amount to anything. It didn’t bother me then. She was like an annoying mosquito, always hovering in the background, trying to break us up.”

  “She wanted you for herself.”

  “Jackie was pretty close with her for a while. Then even she started to think Aubrey was crazy.”

  I was still caught up in the one degree of separation thing. But now a sense of inadequacy trickled down my spine. Edge went from a superstar lover to a fitness trainer with a bad knee. No wonder he wanted to beat Aubrey.

  “So . . .” I cleared my throat. “What exactly happened between you and Jackie?”

  He looked out the window at the gray lake that was churning up in the spring wind.

  Why was I dredging this up? I was with Edge now. He didn’t need a reminder of a long lost Olympic-star girlfriend.

  “On second thought, never mind.”

  “Lily—”

  “No really. I mean it. Just because I am sleeping with you doesn’t mean I have to know your whole history.”

  He twisted toward me and winced at the sudden movement. “It doesn’t? Don’t you think you have the right to know?”

  “No. I mean, we use condoms . . . except that time in the shower . . . But you know . . . the timing was safe and . . .”

  He rubbed his neck and sent me a pained look that was either from his neck or the conversation. “Lily, you should stop selling yourself like a low bid on eBay.”

  “I’m not—”

  He stepped closer. “Shut up. You have every right to ask me about Jackie.”

  “I do?” Did that mean we were more than just convenient sex? I wanted to ask him to spell it out.

  He pulled me back to the couch. “Maybe you need to check my body for muscle tears.”

  “Wait. I’ll switch sides so I can look at you properly without you straining your sore neck.” I scrambled to the other side of his lap and tried not to act as eager as I felt.

  The corners of his mouth turned up. “You know, you aren’t as tough as you think you are.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  He ignored my denial and lifted my hand to the side of his neck that hurt. I took the hint and started rubbing while he talked.

  “Aubrey introduced me to Jackie when we were competing in our region at the Juniors in Marquette. We were seventeen and getting ready to make the leap to the next level. We shared a love for skiing and an excitement over the amount of attention we were given by the coaches who came to watch us. We both went on to train in Colorado under the same team of coaches. We were away from home for the first time and saw more of each other than we did our own families.”

  I knew exactly how young and fresh Edge looked at that age. I wasn’t proud of being a stalker, but I had Googled him after Tracy told me about his concussion. The picture I saw was at the finish line of a race. He was pink-faced and heartbreakingly young, with panda eyes on his face from ski goggles and sunshine. He was laughing at the camera in a victory celebration that had made me smile. He was thinner. And his face was free of whiskers.

  I kept working that knot, hoping he wouldn’t stop his story. “So you two became engaged?”

  “Not right away. We were young. Traveling together from event to event. We were together so much that people started commenting on what a great couple we would be.”

  “It sounds like a natural fit for both of you.”

  “Yeah, well, then it all came apart.”

  “When you got your concussion?” I traced the scar on his temple.

  “Who told you, by the way?”

  “Tracy.”

  He closed his eyes. “Geez. Sisters have big mouths.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” I said. “But for the record, so do brothers.”

  “True. Peter hasn’t been able to keep a secret his entire life.” I made a mental note not to say anything private around his sibling if I ever met him.

  I smoothed my finger over his temple and was glad I had never seen the accident happen. Poor Louise. It must have been awful. The scar was almost invisible after all these years. “So, Jackie just dumped you after your concussion?”

  “No. She was nicer than that. She stuck with me during the first two concussions, you know. Did Tracy mention those?”

  “Yes. She said they were mild. But the third wasn’t.”

  “It wasn’t. I spent months in a dark, quiet room. Can you imagine what that was like for a twenty-two-year-old? I couldn’t read. Listen to music. Even the television bothered me.”

  “I’m sorry.” I thought of his truck. Led Zeppelin at an ear-blowing volume must be like heaven after that horrible year of silence.

  “A year is like a decade when you’re young, you know. When I finally started recovering, she was already off to her first Olympic games.”

  I played with his hair and he rested his head on my shoulder. “We tried to make it work. But it was pointless when we weren’t anywhere near each other. We ended up realizing we had nothing in common. We broke the engagement.”

  “You never went back to skiing.”

  “You know what, Lily?” He stared at the ceiling and picked up my hand, matching our fingers together and then shifting them so they interlocked. “When I lay in my damn bedroom for all those weeks, I didn’t miss skiing half as much as everything else. The music. The food. ESPN.”

  I laughed. “No ESPN would have been tough.”

  “I heard my family upstairs at mealtimes and would have done anything to be with them. I missed the laughing, the conversation, hell, even the arguing. I missed my grandpa’s last few months.

  “I do ski sometimes. I train kids at the junior ski school every winter. But my brain and my life here are more important to me than competitive skiing.”

  I kissed his temple. “Good choice.”

  “Hmmm.” He was relaxing now. “I think I’m a little sore in other places besides my neck.” He looked at me out of the corner of his eye.

  “Poor baby. I’ll make you feel better.”

  He sighed. “If you don’t mind.”

  I leaned down and kissed his pouting lips. He tasted like apple. I was getting used to the way his beard brushed my face. It was softer than it was coarse. Last night I’d dreamed I was kissing a teddy bear, and now I made the connection. Edge was a giant teddy bear. A big animal that was supposed to be fierce and scary but ended u
p being cuddly and sweet. Every time I was with him I wanted to hug.

  I smoothed my hand across his chest and unbuttoned his shirt, making my way down until it was open. He moaned as I trailed my fingers down farther. I wanted to make him want me. And a part of me, the insecure part, wanted to make him forget Jackie Durham. My experience as the seducer was very limited. Sex had been predictable and swift for me in the past. I enjoyed it just fine. But it followed the logical path. Touching the sensitive spots and then seeking release. With Edge the path was a meandering mess. Never, ever boring. I was learning to be adventurous.

  When I was frustrated by the limits imposed on me by my knee, Edge found a way to make things right. We ended up better than right. Our lovemaking was inventive and creative and fun. I never worried he would laugh at me, or think I was odd. Mainly because he was so willing to let himself be the comic relief in any situation. A man who laughed at life and didn’t mind if it laughed right back at him wasn’t the kind of man who looked down on my own bumbling foreplay.

  I took the lead, determined to make my mark on him. Except for his moans and the way he involuntarily bucked, Edge was all too happy to lie back and let me lead our lovemaking.

  “Are you sore here too?”

  Edge groaned. “This is the ultimate massage.”

  I used both hands now. “And this?”

  “It hurts like the devil.” He grinned. “Make it better.”

  I repeated the motion several times. It was so new to be in control. For the first time since my surgery, my body was in charge. Edge lay back in my lap now, watching me as if it were the most erotic thing in the world. It was heady to have this kind of power. I forgot about the challenge, the gym, and even my knee. The whole world had shrunk to a small set of nerves and erogenous zones. And Edge, who existed for me.

  We reached our peak together. Panting and talking to each other in harsh, seductive whispers that I would never remember afterward. The words belonged to the moment and were lost soon after, like debris on the side of the road after a frantic road race.

  When we finally caught our breath, and I raised my head from Edge’s chest, damp with sweat, I wanted to say the words I really felt. But suddenly, I was too shy.

  Instead I asked, “Still sore?”

  He propped open one eye. “No. But ask me again in an hour.”

  I tucked my head in his shoulder and enjoyed the rise and fall of his chest as he fell asleep.

  When I first met Edge, I was full of purpose and determination. Somehow Edge had lightened the burden of my failure. Now he had given me another gift. He had given me back the most personal part of my identity and let me govern my own pleasure and demand his. Our lovemaking had had nothing to do with making his sore muscles better or finding funny ways to make love.

  The limitations of my own body and mind were fading.

  In a way, losing control had given me back myself.

  At least for now.

  LESSON SEVENTEEN

  Include the Whole Family

  I spent the following afternoon at Cookee’s Diner, going over the details of the cook-off with Ambrose Macallister, aka Mac. He was a large man who favored white T-shirts and aprons with funny sayings. I liked him when I met him a several weeks ago, and I liked him even more when he explained his philosophy of fresh organic ingredients and vegan fare.

  “I still serve burgers and fries for my meat-loving customers. I make a mean pot roast and an even better chili. But since last autumn, I’ve been caught up in the new food culture. Learning about grains and legumes, and all the substitutes for protein that vegetarians and vegans use in their food has completely changed the way I cook.”

  I watched him flip a burger as he explained his philosophy and marveled at the fact that this man still chose to work at a diner.

  “Mind you, I work at the Grande Lucerne twice a week now. They have a clientele that appreciates gourmet fare that stretches the boundaries of meat and potatoes. They offered me a full-time job in their kitchen. I couldn’t take it, though.”

  “Really?” I took a bite of his mushroom risotto and closed my eyes. “Delicious,” I said with my mouth full.

  Mac sent me a satisfied smile. “Glad to hear you like it. You know, I would rather flip burgers for friends than spend my entire week locked in the kitchen preparing plates for strangers. Cooking is about more than the food. It needs to be shared. So maybe folks around here aren’t always into kale and Swiss chard; they still appreciate something new once in a while. This way I get the best of both worlds.”

  Edge walked in the door just as Mac was finishing his explanation. “Mac thinks he’s going to convert all of us before the year is up.”

  “Don’t act so tough there, Edge. I saw you gobble up the tuna, avocado, and quinoa salad the other day.”

  Edge patted his stomach. “As an athlete in training I am forcing myself to eat more than chili fries.”

  Mac raised his spatula. “Don’t give me that BS. You liked the stuff.”

  Edge leaned over my shoulder. “Just taking my job as official taste-tester for the cook-off seriously.” He held his mouth open. “Bring it on, Lil.”

  I spooned the risotto into his mouth and he stepped back, pretending to savor the flavor like a real connoisseur. “Slightly salty and a hint of sweetness. It’s the perfect umami on my tongue . . .”

  Mac chuckled. “Umami! You crack me up, Edge. Where’d you learn chef lingo like that?”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  But I did. Last night, Edge had told me stories about life on the circuit. He went into great detail about his favorite meals on the road. He was more than just a homegrown boy. Surprisingly, Edge was a closet foodie. He had traveled all over the world by the time he was twenty-two. It was strange to think that in some ways he was more worldly than I was. A man who drove a teddy bear truck, was a part-time bartender, was a ski bum half the winter, and owned an ice cream parlor and putt-putt golf course. What other layers lay beneath that beard?

  As if he knew I was thinking about him, he cocked his head to the side and grabbed my trainer bag. “Ready to go?”

  “Hang on, I have to pay.”

  Edge reached for his wallet. “I’ll get it.”

  Mac waved us both off. “This one is on me. I’m in training today.”

  Before I could protest, Edge put his arm around my shoulders and led me out. “She’s a great guinea pig, isn’t she? Thanks, Mac.”

  “Guinea pig?” I asked, raising my eyebrow as he helped me into his pickup truck.

  “You do have a certain usefulness when it comes to testing new ways to do things.” He was referring to some rather creative ways we had made love last night. Lord, I still couldn’t believe I could be so dexterous, even with my knee.

  “I have to stop by Lakeview for a sing-along. It’s a half day at school, so Justin and Jason are there and I promised Tracy I would take them home,” Edge said.

  “No problem.” I quite liked watching Edge light up the adult day care with his charm and silly banter. In fact, I liked the way he lit up every room he walked into.

  He tapped the steering wheel and my heart did a funny flip-flop.

  I looked away. A shiver of heat passed down my spine and once again I felt the words bubble to the surface. I put a hand to my mouth and forced them back.

  I love you.

  I wanted to shout it out loud.

  I fanned the air in front of me and fought back a wave of panic. No. No. No.

  If anyone had told me that cold March day that I would be head over heels in love with this man, I would have taken the first bus to nowhere.

  Now I was terrified that I wasn’t worthy of such a man.

  Saying the words was one risk I wasn’t ready to take. If I told him I loved him, he would probably hug me and let me down gently. Because he was that kind of guy. One of the good ones.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind going to Lakeview? I can just drop you off at home if you don’t want to go.�
��

  “No,” I croaked. “It’s fine. Really.”

  He turned up the driveway of the day care center. Before he could come around to help me out, I opened the door of the truck and breathed in the fresh air. Ignoring his quizzical expression, I brushed away his help. The last thing I needed was to let him know my feelings right now. If I bared my soul to him, there was a strong possibility I’d melt right where I was. Nothing would be left of me but a muddy puddle.

  I took off my coat and threw it in the truck as if I’d lived in the North Woods my whole life. Fifty degrees was too warm for me today.

  * * *

  When we entered, everyone called out to Edge like they did each time we visited. But this time, several people called out my name, too.

  Mr. Frasier was reading a newspaper in the corner of the front lobby. As always, he watched the comings and goings of the center.

  “Hi, pretty lady.”

  “Hello, Mr. Frasier.” I tilted my head to see the date of the newspaper in his lap. It was the same issue as the last two times.

  I followed Edge into the living area. Justin and Jason were perched on a couch by the window, playing games on their latest Nintendos. They ran across the room when they saw Edge.

  He gave them air high fives. “You guys going to help us sing today?”

  Their faces fell. “Not karaoke,” Justin moaned.

  Edge spread a hand on his chest and pretended to be offended. “Fine. Go back to your Mario Brothers. But remember, they can’t cook chili like I can.”

  I took my usual seat in the back. More than a dozen people, mostly ladies, wandered in from the arts and crafts room. Their pleasure at seeing Edge was pasted all over their faces like the flowers on their hats.

  “Are you all ready for Karaoke with Callahan, folks? Now put on your dancing shoes, we’re going to make you work for your music today.” He grabbed the basket of streamers and party maracas, and I helped him pass them around the room.

  Once his guitar was tuned, Edge started to sing. “ ‘Oh, give me a home, where the buffalo roam . . .’”

  He encouraged everyone to sway to the music. My heart filled with pride. An entire room of people captivated by the man I loved. I stopped myself before that thought continued.