“The nerve,” I say, feigning shock. “Force fed by your own mother.”
“It’s a travesty. To my thighs, anyway.” Savannah does a weird chicken dance without flapping her arms, trying to make her thighs move. “See? She put jiggle in my wiggle.”
I snort, trying like hell to keep my laughter contained. “Spin tonight,” I nod, attempting to be serious. Lord knows I could use the distraction.
“I’m inviting Charity and Mari, too.” Savannah backs away from my desk as she talks, and as I watch she walks first to Charity’s desk, then a few minutes later to Mari’s.
Dipping my head, I bury myself in my work, where I stay for the remainder of the afternoon.
* * *
“That was good, wasn’t it?”Charity wipes at her sweaty forehead with a pink towel.
“So good,” Savannah agrees, red-faced and breathless. She had a much harder time with the climbs than the rest of us. She offers me an arm. “Smell that? It’s the scent of fried chicken seeping from my pores.”
I make a face and push her arm away. I can handle almost anything, but not sweat. Savannah knows this, and so she loves to torture me.
“Who wants a burrito?” Mari asks as we head out of the studio. When three sets of shocked expressions meet hers, she adds, “What? Don’t tell me you all don’t want a burrito right now.”
“Kind of, yeah,” I admit.
Charity raises a hand. “Me too.”
Savannah sighs. “Assholes.” Her arms slowly slides into the air above her head. “Me three.”
Mari leads the way to a food truck and orders four Gringas, two spicy and two mild. When they’re ready, she hands a spicy to me, keeps one for herself, and we cheers the foil-wrapped goodness. The other two grab theirs and we stand there, eating like we haven’t had a decent meal in a week.
“Is your divorce final?” Charity asks, keeping her gaze on me while she takes a bite.
“Um hmm,” I manage to say around a mouthful. Even though I wanted the divorce, even though my lungs longed to take a full breath the entire time last year we were married, the question slices through me.
“Am I allowed to ask that question?” Charity looks concerned.
“Too late,” I reply, taking another bite. The warmth in my hand decreases as the burrito dwindles.
Mari laughs. “What’s next for you? You’re single now. Any man catching your eye?”
Instead of answering, I take another huge bite. My mouth is so full they will grow bored waiting for me to chew and hopefully move on to another topic. One that doesn’t include whatever is next for me. Why are all milestones quickly followed by anext? You got engaged?When is the wedding?You got married?When are you having a baby?You had a baby?When are you giving the baby a sibling?And on and on and on.
It worked. They’ve moved on to discussing relationship fails. Everyone but Savannah, anyway. Drew has been her boyfriend for six years and they appear to be nothing but solid, despite the fact they choose not to live together or get married. They are happy to just be where they are.
“Look at that couple.” Charity looks at something beyond me.
“Aw. Look at the way she’s gazing up at him.”
Reluctantly I turn around, my eyes searching through the moving people until they land on two stationary figures. They face each other, and the girl tips her head back slightly, exposing her neck, sending a coquettish smile up at… Aidan.Oh my god. My bottom lip peels away from my upper, and I taste the cold air. My stomach feels the opposite. It’s more like a fire was lit within me. Seeing Aidan in an awkward morning-after scenario is one thing, but I’ve never seen him out with a woman. I’ve never seen the before, only the after. The before Aidan is charming. He’s smiling down at her, but only one side of his mouth is turned up. It’s… well, I don’t like it. Nor do I like these feelings.Territorial. Jealous. Comparing.She’s blonde. Of course she is. He prefers them. I think this is the same woman from the day I picked him up for brunch. She’s tiny and looks delicate, like she should be ice skating or pirouetting on the inside of a little girl’s jewelry box.
I wish I wasn’t seeing this. I wish the whole world would disappear and I was on my couch, watching TV. I wish I never would’ve asked that pointless question.
“Natalie?”
Fuck.
“Aidan, hi.” I say his name like I’m surprised to see him. The pulling together of his eyebrows tells me he knows I’m faking.
People walk between us and I’m hoping when they pass Aidan will be gone, swept away by the sea of coats.
No such luck. He’s still there, and his eyes are bright, panic dancing inside them as he contemplates his next move. Squaring his shoulders, he winds a hand around his date and leads her to us.
