Honestly though? Still sort of worth it.
Weddings were fun and all, especially when there was an open bar and at least one crazy uncle, but I wasn’t all that sad about having to leave early. Of course, I would’ve loved to celebrate with my brother and Cory, and that part did make me a little wistful, but being in a room surrounded byallof my relatives was exhausting. Everyone’s lives had changed so much since I’d last seen them. Most of my cousins, some of whom I used to spend summers getting into trouble with, were now parents, their camera rolls made up almost entirely of pictures of their children. One of my aunts adopted three more cats, and started a sizable vegetable garden, and Uncle Will talked to me for twenty minutes about all the birdhouses he’d startedmaking and putting around his neighborhood.Catching up with everyone was great, but I couldn’t help but feel like I was behind, or like I was missing something after talking with them.
I loved my life. My job as a personal trainer was everything I’d hoped it would be, and my first floor apartment in the cozy duplex I found when I first moved was perfect. Linnea lived ten minutes down the road so we still got to do “family” dinners on Sundays, and Shayna was the best friend I could’ve asked for. Not only did she work with me at the gym, but she shared my love of nineties rap, making her the perfect concert buddy, and was always down for a good ice cream movie night.
My days were spent doing work I loved, and my nights were spent either peacefully by myself with a good book, or having fun with my sister and friend.
What more could a girl want?
The answer should’ve been nothing, but as I pulled my car into the dirt driveway of my parents’ house, there was the tiniest, almost imperceptible twang of longing. For what, I didn’t know, but I didn’t have time to ponder that thought before I was flinging my door open and vomiting into the grass.
TWO
DARCY
Early mornings should be illegal. In general, I avoided them as much as I possibly could, but sometimes, like today, when I had a session with a client at nine, they just couldn’t be helped. Not if I still wanted to have my morning routine and be pleasant by the time I showed up at the gym. So when my alarm went off at six, I fought against the bone-deep exhaustion and the urge to snooze it, got dressed, threw my hair into a ponytail, and headed out for my run.
My feet pounded against the sidewalk, every inhale of the frigid morning air spurring me on to go just that little bit faster. The sun hadn’t yet started its ascent into the sky, and maybe if I was more of a morning person, or if this run was taking place in the evening, I’d be able to appreciate the peace of my surroundings more because it was beautiful. Birds were onlyjust waking up, their chirps mingling with the lingering sound of crickets, and the wind rustled through the last of the fall leaves that were still clinging to the trees as I ran beneath them. The houses on my eight-mile loop were a mix of well-loved but maintained colonials, and more modern craftsmans, each with manicured lawns that screamed New England suburbs. It was the kind of morning people visited Gettysburg, Pennsylvania to experience, but the awe of it all had worn off for me. By the time I got back home—feeling a strange mix of both sweating and chilled—the exhaustion I’d woken up with had increased tenfold. Usually, my morning runs were what finished waking me up, but I guess not today.
In the shower, I let the hot water cascade over my aching muscles, standing under the spray several minutes longer than was necessary. I changed into a different set of workout clothes for work, brushed some mascara over my eyelashes, then made a quick breakfast of eggs and toast.
“Shit,” I muttered, glancing at my phone. I shoved the last bite of toast into my mouth, chewing as I hurried to put my sneakers on. As a rule, I tried not to be late, and I technically still wasn’t if I headed straight to the gym, but I wasn’t going directly there.
Twenty minutes later, I was pulling into the parking lot, the coffee I’d made a quick pitstop for in hand. I was just opening the doors, when I heard Diane call my name behind me. I smiled and held the door for her. Showing up at the same time as my client wasn’t ideal, but it was better than her standing around waiting for me.
“Good morning! You ready to get your butt whooped?” I teased lightly. She was one of the clients that could take some humor, and I loved her for it.
“If I don’t leave here limping, make me do it all again.” She laughed.
***
“Quality over quantity. It’s more important that your form is perfect for each rep than it is to do a bunch of them.” I stepped up behind Diane, placing my hands under her dumbbells, and guiding them up over her head. “And if these are too heavy, we’ll drop the weight a little bit. I want you to get all of the reps in if possible.”
She nodded with puffed cheeks, blowing out a big breath as she heaved the weights above her head again, this time with much better form.
She finished her set and let the weights fall to her lap. Her eyes met mine in the mirror, a smile on her face. “Thank you. Workouts with you feel like I’m actually getting somewhere.”
My answering smile was genuine. “Good. I love to hear it. And how are you feeling about the meal plan? Are you still hungry after meals, or are you not able to finish them?”
She shook her head vigorously. “No, they’re honestly perfect! And I found a really good recipe for the salmon that I’m obsessed with. I’ll share it with you. You’d love it!”
My gut roiled at the mention of fish, and I felt dizzy all of a sudden, like I might pass out.
“Diane, I’ll be right back,” I uttered in a rush, the nausea intensifying with each passing second. I bolted to the gym’s locker rooms.
Making a beeline for the nearest open stall, I barrelled through the door, not bothering to lock it behind me, and proceeded to vomit up my breakfast.
I threw up twice more before my stomach settled again, the nausea subsiding as quickly as it came.
What the hell was going on?
“Darcy?” Diane called out from behind me.
I quickly flushed the toilet and stood, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand before exiting the stall.
“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s going on with me,” I gushed, feeling stupid for having been caught puking at work by a client. At least it was Diane. Diane was a sweetheart.
“Are you sick?”
