***
Standing on the pavement after my shift, I stare up at the neon pink sign of my wife’s new business.Bex’s New You. Amy debated for weeks about the name. It was only last Thursday that she committed to this one, wanting to remember her sister. I begged the signage maker to have it ready for opening. We’ve nailed the memory of her sister above the door in ten thousand lumens.
As I step through the front door, the reception area is heaving. “Terry,” Amy shouts from behind the counter. “Come and help me. Isn’t it wonderful? Look at this…” She waves her phone, notifications stacked like Tetris tiles. “A social media influencer heard about the gym and mentioned us online.”
“What do you need me to do?”
“Take the forms and start typing them into the computer,” she instructs, pointing to the crowd of people clutching their paperwork. “We’re past a hundred and climbing. I’m going to need another instructor at this rate.”
An hour later, all the forms are completed and the card machine is hot to touch. Tomorrow, the doors open and classes begin.
The gym cost a fortune to set up, but thanks to a loan from Ben, we were able to finance it. The interest is next to nothing. I hadn’t been keen to take financial help from family, but Bex had insisted we accept.
Ben, being a high-profile oncology consultant and financially savvy, had the money there to help. I swallow my pride every time I see his name on our bank statement.
“What time do you need to be here tomorrow?” I ask, and Amy shrugs.
“We open at eight. I’ll probably just get up and head over. I want to make sure everything is perfect.” She scans the already immaculate gym. Every bit of machinery is shining, and the mirrors across the back wall glimmer in the evening sunlight. “I wish Bex was here to see this. She would have loved it.”
As I stand in front of her, I put my hands on her shoulders. She meets my gaze, but her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“She would be so proud of you,” I tell her. “You’re going to smash it.”
“Thanks,” she murmurs, but exhaustion flickers behind her expression. Or maybe the strain of doing too much, too soon.
I almost say it. The thought I’ve been swallowing for weeks. That I hoped the gym would help Amy move on, help us both heal.
But instead, she’s replaced one obsession with another, filling the silence Bex left with marketing strategies and loan repayments.
It hits me that I’ve no idea how to reach my wife anymore. Whateveruswe once were—is gone.
We’re turning the key in the lock of the gym door when I hear footsteps behind us. “Excuse me,” a deep, gravelly voice says. “Are you the owner?”
I turn. A wall of a man takes two steps at a time. He’s late fifties, close-cropped gray hair, blue shirt pulled tight across a chest that’s done many push-ups.
“I’m the owner,” Amy says behind me. “This is my husband, Terry, and I’m Amy.” She thrusts out a hand, and he takes it, shaking it once, firm. “How can I help? Do you want to sign up?”
“Actually,” he says. “I was wondering if you were looking for staff. I’ve worked in the fitness industry all my life. I’m trained in kickboxing, high-intensity workouts, and Pilates.”
“Pilates?” I chuckle. “You do Pilates?”
His mischievous eyes turn to me, and a smile plays on his lips. “Yes. Pilates is perfect for flexibility. Keeps you honest. I like to have an all-around fitness program. I also body build,” he adds.
“Oh,” Amy squeals. “So do I.” She bounces on the spot, the way she does when dying to ask all sorts of questions. “Come by tomorrow. I’ll be here from eight. We can discuss any opportunities available. Sign-ups were a lot more than I expected. I could probably do with another set of hands.”
“Great.” He smiles. “My name is Trey. Lovely to meet you both.” With that, he turns and drops back down the steps and out of sight.
Chapter five
Amy
Trey has been working in the gym for six hours, and I already want to promote him above myself. He was waiting for me when I arrived at seven this morning, coffee in hand, sporting a confident smile.
“Morning, boss,” he called as I pranced up the front steps, more ready to face the day than I’ve felt in months. “What do you need me to do?”
Ten minutes later, we’d divvied up duties and hit the ground running. By the time members trickled in at eight, we were harmonized like we’d worked together for years.
Thinking I could run everything solo had been naive. How I thought I would juggle the comings and goings of customers, plus teach classes, I’ll never know. I’d be burned out after a week.
