“I’m doing a cleanse,” Georgina announced.
Naomi didn’t miss a beat. “Spiritual or gastrointestinal?”
“Whichever one gets me abs faster,” Georgie said, reading the menu.
“Uh, why?” Lillian asked.
“Because I’ve been invited to Hunter’s sister’s wedding in four weeks and I’ve already chosen a backless dress,” Georgina replied. “My spine deserves its moment.”
The table broke into laughter, the sound echoing through glass and marble and light.
Bea looked around. All of them here. Talking over each other, stealing breadsticks, interrupting with stories, sliding into old rhythms like no time had passed.
This time last year, Bea was still looking for her people. Still on the fringes and wondering if she was temporary. But not this year. They’d saved her a spot.
Today, the table felt like hers, too.
Bea pushed open the door of Havoc Combat Systems.
The sound of bodies crashing onto mats and the jangle of punching-bag chains filled her ears. The familiar tang of clean sweat and leather. That scent that seemed to whisper to her that she was doing something good for her body.
She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed even this. Forty-five minutes of physical torment.
Lillian trailed just behind her, self-conscious in her studio leggings and athletic t-shirt that kept slipping off her shoulder, like she hadn’t quite committed to the one that was the right size for her.
Manny spotted them instantly. “Well, well,” he called from the front desk. “If it isn’t the prodigal daughter.”
Bea laughed. “Still bitter I left, I see.”
“You ghosted us for the whole summer,” he shot back.
“Itoldyou I was going back to Canada.”
“So you did, but do you know what happens to glutes in two and a half months? Tragedy. That’s what happens.”
Bea stepped forward to hug him. “I missed you too, Manny.”
Manny eyed Lillian with theatrical suspicion. “Who’s this? New recruit?”
Lillian, who had been staring wide-eyed in mild horror at the BJJ class in session, looked over. “Uh, hi. I’m Lillian.”
“You promised me once that if I didn’t cry during the plank holds, I could bring a friend to two classes for free,” Bea reminded him.
“I remember.” Manny smirked. He turned to Lillian. “Welcome, kid. You ready for this?”
“I’ve never done Pilates before.”
“You’ll love it,” he said with a grin. His head tilted to Bea. “Bea said her first experience was as good as the Titanic.”
“Titanic?” Lillian asked, confused.
“I’ll explain later.” Bea chuckled. “Come on, Lil. Let’s punish ourselves elegantly.”
The glass-walled studio at the back of the gym had changed—new mats, new faces. Same Nova, their instructor, body fat percentage lower than the calories in a stick of gum. Where there used to be five, there were now sixteen. But the burn was the same. The ache in her core. The sweat at her hairline. The small, satisfying tremble of control.
The time passed in a blur of slow, exacting pain. By the third round of leg lifts, Lillian was bright-cheeked and bleary-eyed, shooting Bea the occasional flustered look. But she didn’t stop.
Bea focused on her body. Her breathing.
