My heart begins to ricochet around my chest. I need a distraction, and fast.
My brain helpfully produces a suggestion in the form of the hot yoga instructor.
But I’m not that person anymore.
So, I inhale deeply through my nose for ten seconds and exhale for another ten. I repeat the advice from podcast number one-hundredseventy-four as I continue toward the Pulse Fitness service desk. Besides, I still need to return my yoga mat before I shower off and head to work.
I curse my mother again as I walk just for the fun of it. These glossy halls are sacred. Pulse Fitness is my chapel. My cathedral. And Vivian Rochester-Chen isnotallowed here.
A rumble in my stomach sends a signal to my brain that I’m dangerously on the verge of getting hangry. It’s vital that I grab something on my way to work, or I risk snapping at anything that moves, including my co-workers. Maybe I’ll swing by the Pulse Fitness juice counter before?—
“Kate?”
My head snaps up as I near the service desk. In front of the walls lined with rental yoga mats, boxing gloves, and spin bike shoes, a resurrected skeleton from my closet blinks, like he can’t believe it’s me either.
My stomach drops out my butt.
“Levi?”
Eyes the color of a frozen, wintry lake skim over me for a second time. Levi looks pretty much the same as six years ago, with his military-cropped black hair and adorable smile, but I notice he’s added a few more tattoos to the pale skin of his forearm since college.
Guilt burns hot in my belly at that smile. I don’t deserve that smile. If he chose to lob a yoga mat at my head, I’d take the hit and hand him mine to throw at me, too.
“It’s good to see you, Kate.”
I nod, clambering for something to say.
Although Levi Schwinn is a sweetheart, his records say ex-convict. When we dated after Brandon Roberts broke my heart, I didn’t even care that he served jail time for petty thefts. All I cared about were the new gray hairs sprouting off Mom’s head and that I wasn’t alone. During the last night we spent together, Levi poured out his soul to the wrong person. The sensitive things he told me about were vulnerable, intimate, and raw. It terrified me.
Nausea settles in my stomach at how easily I discarded him. Ghosted him, actually, after that night. Gosh, had I really been so messed up at the time that I glazed over people’s humanity? Their feelings?
Shame stokes a fire in my cheeks, but I return a wobbly smile.
“It’s great to see you, too.”
Lame.Nowhere near the apology he deserves. But apologizing for being a trash human being in Pulse Fitness’s lobby while holding a sweaty yoga mat doesn’t seem like enough either. I’ll need to talk to him, privately.
“So…you work here now?” I deserve the worst conversationalist award, but I just keep smiling.
He glances down at the obvious Pulse Fitness logo on his black polo.
I force a few more teeth into my smile.
“Yeah. Got hired last week.” Levi shifts, still giving me that smile I don’t deserve. “How about you? You working at some fancy gallery now, art girl?”
A genuine laugh escapes me. I forgot he used to call me that.
“Museum, actually.”
He rests his tattooed forearms on the circulation desk, quirking a dark brow. “Just like you always wanted.”
Regret pile drives the shame already swirling in my stomach.
“Yeah.” I chew my lip as the conversation dies a slow, painful death.
I say, “Listen” just as Levi says, “I should get back to work.”
A few awkward chuckles later, I tentatively place a hand on a forearm before he can leave.
