And I’ve been stuck at home, trying to figure out what to do with my time.
I mean, sure. I’m busy taking care of the house and running errands and being the best taxi Mom and football Mom and music recital Mom and dance class Mom I can possibly be.
But there are long patches of the day where I feel completely lost, and I’m hating it. Because I had Zoey so early, I never got more than my high school diploma. I love motherhood, but I didn’t really think about how that can’t be a lifelong career because your kids grow up and need you less and less as they get older.
That’s the way it’s supposed to be, but damn… I was not ready for this aimless, empty feeling.
I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with my life now.
Which is why I started going to the gym, and why working with Davis has become my favorite part of the day.
I probably don’t need to come as religiously as I do, but I just love how strong my body’s getting. Working out is addictive, especially when you can see the results and feel so fantastic and energized.
Plus, Davis is funny and sweet. He’s helped shape my body—taken it from the soft, squidgy Mommy bod to these refined muscles that make me feel like freaking Wonder Woman.
I seriously love it.
This whole thing has given me purpose and meaning. It’s helped ease this restless itching inside my chest.
And, you know, it’s nice to have something that’s just for me.
Ever since becoming a mother, it’s been about putting everyone else first. Zander’s NFL career has been an important aspect of our lives, and I’ve made a lot of sacrifices to support him. I also continually make sacrifices for my kids in order to give them the best life possible.
But this gym thing…
Yeah, that’s just for me, and I’m going to hold on to it for as long as I can.
“You were fire today.” Davis grins at me, placing the weights back on the shelf and wiping down his forehead with the bottom of his T-shirt.
His body is all cut muscle. He works out a little alongside me, but mostly he’s just there to watch me, correct my positioning, encourage me. Which means he must exercise on his own time, and yep… it pays off. I’m sure single hearts are breaking everywhere. The guy’s married.
My lips twitch as he points to the floor. “Let’s do some stretching.”
“Yes, sir.”
He grins at me, and I lie on my back, letting him guide me through my stretches. He talks and jokes with me as he moves me to make the stretches deeper.
I groan, and he laughs. “Come on, lady. You can take it.”
Closing my eyes, I keep the stretch going until he lets me go and I can finally stand and shake it all off. That was a good workout. My skin’s all tingly, my muscles quivering as I gather up my water bottle.
“So, remember to check yourself on the carbs and sugar this weekend.” His eyes skim down my body. “Although, we can always work it off next week if you want to let loose and enjoy yourself a little.” He winks, and I laugh at his teasing.
“I’ll let myself have a treat or two. Maybe the odd chocolate for Valentine’s Day. Oh, and my friend Satch makes the most amazing cherry pie, so I’ll definitely be having a slice of that.”
“Well, you’ve earned some sugar.” He lightly pats my lower back as he walks past me and I laugh, grabbing my towel and wiping down my face before following him to the cubbyholes along the far wall.
We’re currently standing in the basement of Davis’s large home. He runs a private gym for people who don’t like an audience. He does one-on-one sessions, a few small-group workouts, and that’s about it. I’m so glad I found him. When I first joined the gym, I thought all the people who like to sneak photos of Zander Donohue’s wife would have the decency not to snap me working out at the gym and post it online. But nope. People are shit.
Some of the pics that surfaced were hideous, and the comments were even worse.
I try really hard not to let the fact that my husband is a famous NFL quarterback bother me, but sometimes it all gets too much. I didn’t ask to be put in the spotlight along with him. I don’t even get why people are interested in me!
Zander was super pissed on my behalf and quickly persuaded me to find a personal trainer who could come to our home and work with me in our pool house, which we converted into a gym.But then I found Davis, and I kind of love that he has his own place. There’s something more motivating about actually leaving my own house to do a workout.
“When do you guys head to Nolan?” he asks.
“As soon as I’ve showered up and washed this stink off my body.”
