Then making her a late-night snack.Again.Taking our dogs for a walk together. Watching her clever brain spin up a social media post for her dog, like she did the other morning when she posted two pics. One was a shot of herself, looking tired and sad, with the caption:I’ve been working all day. He hasn’t worked since I met him three years ago and doesn’t want a job. He expects me to make dinner and clean up every day, doesn’t help, and gets upset when I leave the house.
Followed by a photo of Simon, lounging on a pillow, looking smug, sayingTalk about wrapped around my paw.
It’s seriously cute watching her brain work.
“And now?”
Huh? Oh, shit. Leah’s talking to me again.
I snap my focus to her, “And now what?”
If a laugh could saybusted,hers does. “And now are you thinking about it too? Or did you want to do one hundred Russian twists?”
I have to stop thinking about how every little thing Skylar does is magic. “Yes, ma’am,” I say, then drop down to the mat and start twisting my arms side to side while keeping my feet off the floor.
Corbin stretches his arms, preening like a peacock. “I did better than him, right?” he says to Leah.
“Would you like a gold star?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. My daughter loves those,” he says, a note of pride in his voice.
I jump on that—partly so the conversation doesn’t snap back to my distracted-as-fuck brain. “Better get some for her. Let her know how good you are at working out.”
“Yes, I’m sure a—what, fourth grader?—will be so impressed,” Leah deadpans.
“As a matter of fact, I was planning on giving her one,” Corbin says.
“Then I’d better go get some. Now join Captain Distraction,” she tells Corbin, then shifts her gaze to me, “who’s busy thinking about the next game.”
Her lips twitch in a grin, and she might as well point at her eyes and sayI see you, because that’s exactly what she’s doing. But at least she’s not saying it out loud.
I’ll take that victory as my core burns on the way to one hundred.
When we’re done, Corbin heads off to fill his water bottle, and Leah gives me a chin nod. “Everything okay?”
I bristle. “Course. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Just making sure,” she says gently, but with a shrewd look in her eyes. “Life has a way of being busy.”
It’s said like some aphorism Yoda would drop while training Luke. I should probably take it as such. Still, I say evenly, “It can, Leah.”
“Finding balance is equally important,” she adds, not letting this go. “Are you doing your yoga?”
I snap my fingers. Fuck. She’s right. I skipped yoga this morning to make Skylar breakfast, then I had to rush off to practice. “Good point. I’ll get back on it.”
She gives a crisp nod. “Good. I’ll see you next week.”
After she leaves, I head to the cardio machines with a renewed focus, Corbin joining me. He’s chuckling at something on his phone.
“Anything good?”
“Just a note from Charlotte reminding me what time my game is,” he says.
“Your kid’s the keeper of your schedule?”
“She’s the keeper of everything. She’s set up a color-coded calendar for all our activities. I swear I don’t know what I did to have a child so organized. But I’m not complaining.”
As we claim our ellipticals, he tells me about the way she’s even set up digital stickers for completing tasks each day. For both of them. It’s sweet the way he talks about his young daughter, and the sticker forworkout completedshe sent him recently. I’m about to pop in earbuds and listen to an audiobook—a new one on improving your focus, which I definitely need—when Corbin gives me avery seriouslook.
