He exhaled through his nose.
“What was that for? You knew I was going back to the gym after our appointment.” Not waiting for an answer, I stood and left the table, striding toward the exit.
“We’ve not had our coffee yet,” he called after me. “Amz.”
I ignored him and kept walking, the need to clear my head intense. The double sliding doors squealed as they opened, the fresh spring air icy on my cheeks. I closed my eyes, and time stopped. The smell of disinfectant, latex and hope clung to my skin. A reminder of a dream gone sour.
Here is exactly where I didn’t want to be, jumping straight back on the infertility crazy train. But I’d promised to try even if I felt railroaded into it.
He walked up behind me and placed his hands on my shoulders. His lips dropped to my ear. “I’m sorry. I love you.This baby is the most important thing we could create, and I want it to happen so badly. Sometimes I become obsessive.” I turned in his arms to face him and looked him directly in the eye.
“What if it doesn’t happen?” I asked. “Will you cope with that?” I searched his face, looking for a thread of understanding that this one round is all I’m prepared to go through. He straightened and nodded, but I didn’t believe him. His eyes had the hunger again, the one I’ve seen every time we waited for the second line. This baby is a crucial conquest in my husband’s life.
When I reappear from my office, Trey is in the weights area surrounded by our bodybuilding squad. We’ve developed a small team that want to attend competitions and train together. Most of them followed Trey from his old gym. They are a lovely crowd to train with. Their laughter rolls through the gym, sharp and bright, cutting through my dark thoughts.
“Amz,” Trey shouts, “we’re just discussing the competition schedule. Join us.” Trey’s husband, Derek, sits next to him with a clipboard, taking notes. He’s buff like Trey and all admin?glasses low on his nose, pencil behind his ear, a printed spreadsheet balanced on one knee.
For a while, Terry had been concerned about how close Trey and I were becoming. He would constantly ask if he had been at the gym with me. If he had a partner. Maybe out of pettiness, I omitted to tell him that he was gay. His pestering annoyed me. I’d never given him any reason to doubt my loyalty to him.
It was harmless, letting him sweat. That’s what I told myself anyway. Though I enjoyed the proof that he still cared enough to be jealous. But at the Christmas party, it had all spilled into the open.
Trey had agreed to meet me at the gym an hour before the party started to decorate. Terry had insisted on coming as he didn’t want me left alone with thesmooth operator. Another pair of hands is always helpful, so I let him tag along.Trey tried to include my husband in our conversations; Terry merely grunted in response. Being used to my husband’s prissy behavior, my friend kept chatting away.
Derek appeared at the door, bang on eight o’clock, when the party was due to start. He was dressed in white jeans and a sparkly black shirt with a huge red Santa hat on his head. “Let’s get this party started!” he shrieked over the blaring Christmas tunes. He shimmied over to his husband and planted a monumental kiss on his lips. Terry’s eyes popped wide, and his focus moved from them to me in question.
“He’s gay?” he mouthed. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” I walked over to him and wrapped my arms around his waist. “You’ve let me think he was chasing you for months, and all this time, it was me who needed to be careful.”
“Don’t be so dense,” I muttered, shaking my head. “You’re not his type.” He screwed up his face and stuck his tongue out.
“What’s wrong with me?” he said. “I’ve got all the right equipment.”
Trey, reading out the competition schedule and calling my name, interrupts the memory. “Amz,” he says, “which competitions are you planning to sign up for?”
I take a breath. “I’ll only be competing this month and next month.” His eyebrows draw together in confusion. “In June, I’ll be undergoing some treatment, so I’ll be out of action for a while.” He nods, respecting my privacy by not asking for any further details. Still, his gaze lingers. Curious. Kind. It’s more empathy than Terry’s shown in months, and it feels good.
The others divert his attention from me as they shout out dates they’re looking to sign up for.
“Okay, okay,” Trey barks, “one at a fucking time. Next month, the competition at Harley’s, let’s fill that roster first, shall we?”
Chapter eleven
Amy
Harley’s gym is traditional and in need of some TLC, but it has one of the most comprehensive membership lists in the city. Everyone from sports personalities to politicians comes here to train. Ivan Harley, who now runs the enterprise, took over from his father ten years ago.
In his late forties, he’s known for his wit and ruthless business mind. I’ve never met him in person but heard plenty through the grapevine. If he's in your corner, he’s an asset. If he’s against you, you better watch your back. Even muttering his name in the fitness world earns a pause. If you’re connected to Ivan, you’re someone.
Trey and I are walking toward the competition suite when a deep voice calling his name stops him in his tracks. “Trey.” We both turn on cue and see Ivan Harley strutting over to us.
“You know him,” I hiss.
“I used to work here,” Trey admits in a whisper. “Ivan,” he says, holding out his hand in welcome. The men shake hands vigorously. “How have you been?”
“Oh, good. I can’t complain,” he replies, then he turns to me, his shrewd stare running up and down my body. “Who is this?”
“Ivan, I’d like you to meet the owner of Bex’s New You. Amy Trodden, this is Ivan Harley,” Trey says.
“Lovely to meet you, Amy.” He smiles and takes my hand between his two. “You’re the lucky gym owner who swiped this man. He’s an asset to any team. I was gutted when he said he was leaving.”
