by Julie Olsen
Lost in my thoughts, I smiled weakly. “You’re welcome. See you tomorrow, Boone.”
“You know it,” he said with a wink.
“Leaving so soon?” Lucy asked, a smidge of insincerity seeping into her voice.
“Five o’clock client in the morning. Even I need my beauty sleep.”
Justine pursed her lips. “Don’t remind me. I’ve got spin at six,” she said apologetically.
“Et tu, Justine?” Would all my friends desert me in my time of getting my drink on?
“Don’t be stupid. I’m staying for one. I want to hear about your weekend.”
I shot her a don’t-you-dare-spill-the-beans glare, and she grinned back saucily. Luckily, Boone seemed none the wiser.
“Well, I’m off,” James announced. “You outdid yourself on dinner. Thanks, Liv.” He bent to kiss my cheek and Lucy walked him to the front door as Boone exited through the kitchen.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Justine turned to me and said quietly, “So, I just learned something today.”
I poured Lucy’s mojitos into the three glasses and handed one to Justine. “What’s that?”
“Did you know Lucy has a thing for Boone?” she whispered.
I frowned and took a sip of the limey, minty deliciousness. “Lucy can’t stand Boone.” I kept my voice low, listening for Lucy’s footsteps.
“Ahh, that’s what I thought too. But before James came in to help with the dishes, she let slip a little secret.” She looked across at me, all vivid blue eyes.
My brows attempted to butt against each other. “What secret?”
Justine leaned in close and cupped her hand to her mouth. “They’ve kissed.”
My eyes bugged out of my skull and my jaw flopped upon the table. “What?”
Justine nodded like a bobblehead. “It happened the last time we all went out, apparently. Then just now, when she was making the mojitos, she said she’s not having any. I asked why and she said, and I quote, ‘I can’t drink around Boone.’ I asked what’s up. And she got all defensive. Told me don’t invite him again. She was in tears, Liv.”
“She doesn’t like him. That’s why.”
“That’s what I thought, though you have to admit the tears were a bit dramatic for a simple dislike. So I rubbed her back, comforted her, you know. And then she told me.”
A lightheadedness descended upon my brain. “Told you what?” I could hear Lucy approach.
They kissed, she mouths.
I exhaled and clamped my jaw shut just as Lucy pulled out a chair and flopped down. My eyes drilled into Justine’s, but she gave an imperceptible shake of her head and turned toward Lucy.
“What did I miss?” she asked, reaching for her glass.
“When last we left off, our Olivia was prepared to drop the first lover she’d had in close to three years.” I was still reeling from the recent bombshell, but she had given me no time to prepare for the next battle. Justine avoided my shocked expression like the plague. I had to hand it to her, she was smooth under duress. I, on the other hand, felt as if someone had pulled the rug from under my feet.
“Okay, so who’s this woman?” Lucy asked softly.
I stared at my sister, my head full of Justine’s revelation. So, they kissed. So what? Lots of people did. Not Lucy and Boone. And what about James?
“Bella,” I said, lifting my glass to my lips and taking a large swig. “They’re friends.”
“Except you think it’s more?” Lucy prodded.
I sighed. “Damien says it’s not. He says he’s known her since he was sixteen. After we left, he was sorry he took me there.” I thought back to the night which seemed so long ago, remembering his initial smile when Bella clapped her hands over his eyes. Last night I somehow found a way to rationalize his behavior, but now I couldn’t prevent the ugly truth from wrapping around my heart.
“I left a voice mail for him earlier, but I haven’t heard from him since he dropped me off this morning. I think that speaks volumes, don’t you.” A wave of exhaustion swept through me. I didn’t want to think anymore.
“Oh Liv,” Lucy muttered. I couldn’t look at her.
“So you were pissed off but still went home with him?” Justine frowned. “Either he’s a sweet-talker or you’ve got it bad.”
I sipped my mojito, thinking of how I had fallen under Damien’s spell last night. Sweet-talker didn’t sum him up at all. He didn’t coerce me with flowery language. It was more like the way he handled me—his controlling nature—which swayed me. And wonder of wonders, I liked it.
I took a giant swallow, needing the numbing that I know the drink would bring. Why did I allow myself to fall for him? He’d had what he wanted and had already moved on. And here I was, drinking to forget him, with the prospect of an agonizing night alone with my memories to keep me company. Whoever said alcohol would help you forget is full of shit. It hadn’t helped at all. On the contrary, I hurt worse than ever.
Lucy and Justine peered at me with grim faces.
“It’s my fault,” I said softly. “I knew I should have avoided him, but I was stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.” No tears stung my eyes at this admission, a bitter consolation. I was resigned to my sad fate. “We had a nice time but all good things end, right?”
“Only if you want it to, sweetie,” Lucy said with a half-smile.
I smiled back, knowing it was a lackluster attempt but not really caring. If only it were that easy. If only I could snap my fingers and go back in time to before I made that idiotic decision to ride my bike to work. If only Lucy hadn’t left Josephine’s lights on, draining the battery. If only I had gone to work as usual that day, and come home from work as usual, just another day like every other regular day.
If only I had never met him, my heart wouldn’t feel like it was being ripped in two.
“I’m not drinking anymore,” I said evenly, setting down my half-empty glass and rising stiffly from my chair.
Lucy and Justine looked at each other, but to their credit said nothing.
I shuffled off, knowing my behavior was the height of rudeness, but hoping they understood my need to be alone. “See you tomorrow.”
“G’night,” they replied in a stunned chorus.
I didn’t have it in me to apologize. That could wait till later. Right now I needed my bed.
I climbed the stairs and made a pit stop at the bathroom to brush my teeth. I avoided looking at my face in the mirror, afraid to see the lost girl that would undoubtedly be staring back.
At the click of my closing door, a sharp loneliness pervaded me. I shed my clothes in the dark, dropping them where I stood and pulled on heavy sweats and a long-sleeve thermal shirt. I crawled into bed, pulling the covers up to my chin and rolling onto my side. I was cold to the bone. I stared into the blackness, focusing on the sound of my breathing—in, out, in, out—until I finally drifted off.
* * *
With Weldon out taking a personal day, I arrived at the gym early. Mondays were usually our busiest days, and today was no exception as members were eager to work off the calories they overindulged in over the weekend. As I walked in, I noticed nearly every machine had a user.
Breezing by the front desk, I smiled at Sadie who had the phone to her ear.
“Erica’s coming in at seven to help with clients this morning,” she said, covering the mouthpiece. “And Lou will be here at noon.”
I nodded, realizing Weldon had already enlisted the night trainers to assist. His move to make my job easier was both a blessing and a curse because I had been hoping to immerse myself in work. The more of it, the better.
I made my way to Weldon’s office to check his training schedule. Weldon was not simply the owner of the gym, but a trainer as well. I tossed my bag in his bottom drawer, retrieving my phone as I did so and placing it on the desk. I still had not switched it on, but after a surprisingly somewhat restful sleep, I had awoken wi
th new resolve as it pertained to Damien Stone.
Glancing through Weldon’s schedule, I saw I would have to switch a few of us around to cover his clients, but it shouldn’t be too difficult with Justine and Boone already here and Erica and Lou on their way. Between the five of us, we should be able to cover all clients and classes adequately. I juggled the trainers with the time slots and made the changes on the huge dry erase schedule board on his office wall. I then sent a blanket text out to Justine, Boone, Erica and Lou reminding them to check the wall for their revised schedule.
With that task finished, I looked over Weldon’s desk organizer to check what else he had scheduled for the day. Sometime between noon and three, an electrician was coming to fix a faulty light socket. Nothing Sadie couldn’t handle.
My eyes darted to my phone and I sighed heavily. Leaving it turned off was really not an option, as I used it professionally as well as personally. I could avoid it no longer.
Switching it on, I set it back down as it booted up, turning my attention to picking microscopic atoms of lint off my yoga pants.
The pings of missed calls and text messages filled the office. I mustered the strength to check the screen. Two missed calls, both from Damien. And he had left voice messages. I knew if I heard that deep rumbly voice my carefully laid plan would wither and die.
Ignoring the ache in my chest, I clicked delete.
CHAPTER 16
The morning passed in a blur of activity. The Hyphen came and went with her usual disrespect for anyone’s time but her own. I tried not to let Boone’s revelations interfere with my professionalism, a task made easier thanks to her surprising change in attitude.
First, she confided that Saturday’s session was the toughest she had ever endured. And then for the first time since I began training her, she thanked me. Guess the way to Angelique Pritchard-Price’s gratitude can be found at the corner of Pain Street and Fatigue Avenue. I could help her with that.
With Weldon gone, I hustled between clients and classes with barely time to breathe between. And that was the way I wanted it. My noon kickboxing class was full for the first time, a milestone I was sure would thrill Weldon. My four o’clock rock climbing class for kids even had a few more members. It looked like Weldon’s advertising push was starting to pay off big time. Now if our association with Ms. Pritchard-Price would just pan out.
I caught Justine’s smirk as she was helping a Ryan Reynolds look-alike with the ab roller. I grinned back and winked, knowing right now she was enjoying her job immensely.
I had not had an opportunity to talk to her or to apologize for snatching up my marbles and leaving last night. What with everyone pitching in to cover the bases, there was no time for idle chitchat. Even laid-back Boone, who usually sauntered through the day in that hey-don’t-rush-me way of his, had some pep in his step
With no time to spare for lunch, I chugged down a protein shake and asked Sadie to call in an order for everybody to the sub shop just down the block. The place received brisk business from us and kept our sandwich favorites on file as a courtesy and even delivered. Today was a day where that extra step would come in handy.
Sadie placed the call and turned to me as I was finishing the last of my chocolate protein shake.
“You have a message,” she said, pulling it free from its perforation in the message book. “From a Damien Stone. He’s called three times.”
My heart did a somersault as I looked at the note. “Please check your phone.” I felt childish dealing with him like this, but I was hoping that by the end of the week, if and when he returned, I would be strong enough to resist him and personally end whatever this was between us. For now, I just needed a little time and distance. And that meant avoiding talking to him.
“Thanks Sadie.”
She waved me off as another call came in. With minutes to spare until my next client, I jogged back to Weldon’s office. I really couldn’t continue like this. I needed to be brave and meet my problems head-on, like an adult. But if I heard his voice, that masculine, authoritative tone, I knew what would happen.
I pulled my phone out of my purse in the bottom drawer of the desk. Sure enough, there were missed calls. And voice messages. I deleted them and, feeling like the coward I was, composed a text: Damien, thank you for a lovely time this weekend. But let’s stop while we’re ahead. I have a busy week and won’t have time to talk. I’ll call you on Friday. Take care, Liv.
I hit send and fought an overwhelming urge to throw my phone against the wall. I knew this was the right thing to do. As someone who had made ridiculously bad choices when it came to men, I was all too aware of the dangers of Damien Stone. I simply couldn’t trust myself around him, and the only silver lining in this whole mess was that I still had the common sense to recognize my weakness.
It was cold comfort. Not for the first time I wished there was a back button I could press. Why did I have to meet him? Why couldn’t he just have left me alone?
Gathering what remained of my tattered heart, I headed back out to the floor.
* * *
By the time six o’clock rolled around, I had officially pulled a twelve-hour shift. Boone and Erica had long since left, and I had called in a couple of part-time trainers to help Lou with the evening rush. I sent Justine home but with the heads-up that I might need to call her back in if it got super busy. I decided to stick around too. It had been a record setting day for the gym, and with Weldon gone I felt better lending a hand if and when I was needed. There was no sense in me going home to an empty house. Not until I was good and tired and could fall straight into bed and let exhaustion take me.
Lou happily took me up on my offer to conduct his six thirty rock-climbing class, giving him an hour to rest and eat dinner. It had been a long productive day and my head was buzzing, so prior to class I took a short break in Weldon’s office in which I unenthusiastically nibbled on the remains of my turkey on whole grain sub leftover from lunch and finally succumbed to my insane need to check my phone, feeling weak and disappointed in myself as I did so.
Nothing. There was no reply to my Dear Damien text. Not a missed call, or voice message. Nothing.
Well, you wanted this. An icy cold tremor coursed through me, making me shudder and exhale harshly. I had wanted this, and now I had it. My text worked.
Feeling nauseated, I chucked the remainder of my sandwich in the trash and headed to the locker room for my Mad Rocks climbing shoes.
* * *
“I can’t do it.”
An hour later I was standing at the base of the rock wall peering up at a timid first-timer who was stuck at the top.
“Okay, Emily. I want you to place your right foot on the green hold,” I called up to her. She was beginning to become anxious, so I spoke in a calm voice.
“My foot keeps slipping!”
The newbie had quickly regressed into full-on panic, so I began harnessing up.
“The green is the largest hold. I promise your foot won’t slip. Keep a strong grip on the handhold you’ve got and slowly balance your weight onto your right foot. You can do it, Emily.”
I watched as she attempted to swing her balance onto her right foot, but it was clear she was terrified. This sometimes happened with beginners who had never climbed before. Unaware that they were afraid of heights, their fear suddenly kicked in when they reached the top and it disabled them.
“I…I’m afraid I will fall!”
Checking my belay and finding it satisfactory, I began a swift climb to join her at the top. It was always better to help climbers help themselves rather than allowing them to give into their fears and being lowered down by the rope system.
Within a matter of minutes, I reached Emily and talked her out of her panic. She descended slowly and carefully under my patient instruction while I watched from the top. With beginners, I never led from the bottom, always the top in case they were to fall. They would never hurt themselves, as the locking d
evice on the belay would prevent a fall to the ground, but they could bump and seriously injure a lower climber.
Once she stepped onto the padded floor, a relieved grin greeted me as she looked up at my perch far above. The others in the class broke into applause, and I couldn’t help but grin back. From my high vantage point, I surveyed the gym before descending and a prickling awareness slid through me as I settled my eyes on the entrance.
Damien stood there, his arms crossed over his chest, staring up at me. He was not smiling.
Reflexively, my hands griped the holds even tighter as apprehension slammed into me. Damien was here. He wasn’t in Chicago, he was here, in the gym. And he didn’t look happy to see me.
I was in serious trouble now.
I could literally feel the color drain from my face. Damien continued to stand and stare, his face an impassive mask, his presence filling up the entire gym.
Hoping to relieve the almost unbearable tension that stretched like a rubber band between us, I did the most ridiculous thing I could possibly do. I waved.
He didn’t wave back. If anything, his jaw set ominously at my frivolous attempt at levity.
My stomach roiled and cold fingers of alarm tickled my nape. A million questions swarmed my brain, but I swatted them down. I was at the top of a twenty-six foot high rock wall. It was time to focus on the descent. And then you get to chitchat with Mr. Angry Sex God.
Turning my back on him, I lowered myself and removed my harness. He had moved just yards away, to the edge of the padded mat, but I could only see him in my peripheral vision. I refused to look his way, afraid to see the scowl which I imagined must be affixed to his face.
Did my Dear Damien text cause him to come all this way back? And why was he here? Did he just want to have the last word? Was Bella waiting for him in the car? Or did he want to convince me that I was wrong, that we deserved to see what would happen between us?
As I had a job to finish, I gathered up the harnesses as my students stepped out of them, continuing to rudely ignore Damien and tucking away the knowledge that if I hadn’t already blown it, I had certainly hammered in the last nail of the coffin.