A Love We Deserve (True Love Book 2) (4 page)

Chapter 4

Six months later

As expected, John, our oldest, takes it hardest. I’m allowing him to work through it at his own pace. Chris and I agree to be civil to each other for the boys’ sake. He was generous as well. No ugly court battles or custody hearings. He gives me the house, a large lump sum in cash, and sets up trusts for our kids. He knows that I’m willing to park myself in court to protect my kids and their well-being. Maybe he won’t go straight to hell after all. That’s not to say it’s been easy, far from it. The boys miss him more than I thought they would. They’re approaching ages where a father figure is crucial, even a shitty one. Thank God for Jason.

After Chris left, Jason has made a point of coming over daily to see the boys. He and his own son, Zach, include them on their outings. Jason has stepped up to coach their Pop Warner football team, and never even expected so much as a thank you. They are so happy to be included, and he is a wonderful father figure and role model. I thank him and Katie on a daily basis, so much so that I think it’s getting old. It warms my heart to know there are still people out there that do the right thing, just because it’s the right thing, with no motives or expectations.

Katie, her daughter, Grace, and I have “girls days”. When Jason’s with the boys, we have our special time. We’ve introduced Grace to all the great eighties movies, while we eat pizza and ice cream at my house. It helps to have a break from the testosterone that flows so abundantly in my home.

Tonight we are watching
Sixteen Candles
and Grace falls asleep during the dance scene. We are laughing so hard at the movie, we don’t notice until she rolls off the couch and plops onto the floor. Never wakes up, just keeps snoring. Katie and I can hardly contain our laughter at the sight, and we move to the kitchen so we won’t wake her.

“Oh my God, it feels good to laugh like that. Were you and Jason the Samantha and Jake of high school?” I ask, referring to the star-crossed romance of the couple in the movie.

“Maybe a little, now that I think of it. He was searching for me and I had no idea. I thought he was God’s gift to all girls and didn’t notice me, so, yes, I guess we were! What were you like in high school?”

“Not much to tell, really. I got good grades, was a cheerleader, debate team, Spanish club, you know the drill.”

“Seriously? Geez. I was Jason’s girlfriend. That was about the extent of my high school involvement. If it had to do with him, I was there, if not, didn’t care about it. You know Colleen: If it hadn’t been for her, I probably wouldn’t have met him. I pretty much owe her for all of my adolescent fun. Did you date much?”

“No, not really. Here and there, but my parents made it clear that getting into college was priority Number One. I kept myself too busy to date. I sort of figured that I would sow my oats in college, but then I met Jeff. You know the history after that.”

Katie looks at me sorrowfully. “That’s the extent your of interactions with men? Those two winners? Dear God, Mel, I can’t believe the bad luck you’ve had. How are you not bitter?”

“Who says I’m not bitter? Just because I try to keep a positive attitude doesn’t mean I’m fine inside. I can’t read romance novels or watch tear-jerker movies. I want to spit at the screen and scream, ‘Life isn’t like that!’ By definition, I think that makes me bitter. I blame myself. I didn’t have bad luck; I made bad
choices
. Jeff and Chris are arrogant assholes that I allowed to walk all over me. I don’t know what part of my personality let them do it, but trust me when I say it’ll never happen again. You know why? Because I’ve sworn off men. Totally.”

Katie gives me a sideways grin.

“Really?
All
men?”

“Really, Katie. You got the last good one. I don’t have the emotional energy to go through what I’ve been through with men again; they’re not worth it. At my age and with three boys to boot? Look at the prizes I chose when I was young and hot. To find a man willing to take on all this…” I pat my tummy for emphasis. “I’d be scraping the bottom of the barrel with manicured nails. No, thanks.”

“First of all, you’re gorgeous. Secondly, there are men out there in similar life circumstances as you: Divorced and lonely with kids. You need to dust off your attitude and get out there. Jason knows a lot of single men.”

She looks and sounds so hopeful. How do I tell her I’d rather cut off one of my boobs than have a man look at them right now?

“Nah. I need a complete overhaul first. Of course, I could take some of Chris’ money and go to Mexico for plastic surgery. You know, the works. Suck some fat, lift the boobs, less ass, new pouty lips. Isn’t that what everyone is doing these days?”

“Are you kidding? I’d kill for your figure. You’re young and hot. Don’t you dare change a thing.”

“Well, I could start by hitting the gym. Twenty-five pounds or so wouldn’t be missed. Tell Jason he’s on stand-by, but he can start scouting prospects.”

That seems like enough to get her off my back. I have no intention of letting Jason set me up. He deals with doctors and athletes, who would be out of my league. Come to think of it, I don’t even belong to a league. Two men don’t make a roster. I do need to get back in shape, though. This is true. I let myself go after I had Luke. Chris was emotionally gone at that point, and I just didn’t care. If I ever have a prayer of getting laid again, I’d better own up to my promise and get to the gym. I’ll never be thin, but it would be nice to see my pedicure without having to suck in my gut.

* * *

There’s a new gym two towns over that I’ve noticed near the mall. That’s exactly what I’m looking for. Anonymity. No one will know me, and no one I know will bother to go that far to workout. I went shopping over the weekend to get some new exercise clothes. Gray sweatpants with holes in them don’t motivate me since they make me look like a manatee. I find some cute matching sets that I hope will get my ass in there. Squeezing my flesh into spandex is a different matter. That’s depressing as hell. My ass looks like the surface of the moon in these pants. Hills and craters everywhere. God, why did I take my twenties for granted? After hitting thirty and a few kids later, my fat is like the contents of a snow globe shaken up and redistributed to different areas. Now begins the hard part of trying to get things back together.

Monday morning I pack my water bottle and a change of clothes in my cute new gym bag. After I get the boys on the bus, I hop in my car and head out. If I don’t do it now, I never will. The place is packed. What the hell? If I were at home, I’d be on my second cup of coffee and enjoying the newspaper. That cozy thought creeps in, and it’s all I can do to not make a U-turn, hit the doughnut shop and go home. I finally find a spot about a half-mile from the front door. That should count as my workout. I’m supposed to meet with Shayna, the new-member coordinator, at 8:30 a.m. The tiny person manning the front desk greets me, overenthusiastically.

“Good morning! Welcome to Fantastic Fitness! Please let me know if I can irritate the shit out of you anymore today!”

That’s what
I
heard at least.

“Hi. My name is Melanie, and I’m supposed to be meeting Shayna,” I say.

What the hell kind of name is that anyway.
Shaaaynaaa
. She hears her name and comes bouncing out of the office behind the front desk. What is
with
these people? I just want a shot of whatever the hell they took this morning, and then I can leave.

“Hi, Melanie! I’m Shayn
aaaa
! So nice to meet you! It was so great to talk with you on the phone. Why don’t you come into my office and we’ll get you all set up.”

I follow her into her office, and my head is hanging low as if I’m going to the principal’s office. I don’t know why these people intimidate me so much. I guess I just don’t trust people this happy. And fit. She gives me the schedule of all the group classes, a map to the place because it’s the size of a super Walmart, and a sign-up sheet for a free week with a personal trainer. What she doesn’t know is that while I’m smiling politely and nodding along with everything she says, I’m already planning my escape and I will never step foot in here again. I’ll just cut back on the sweets at night. That should do it, right? Uh-oh, she’s standing up. I don’t think I heard a word she said.

“So, ready for the grand tour?”

Shit.

“Uh, sure! Can’t wait.”

Damn. I’m sure to be spotted now if I make a run for it. Better just go along.

“And this is our state-of-the-art women’s locker room, outfitted with two steam baths, a dry heat sauna, and two large hot tubs. Soak your cares away after a nice hard fitness session! We have three massage therapists on staff, and well as an esthetician for facials. We are the complete, feel-good, one-stop shop!”

She clearly loves this place. I would too if I wasn’t expected to ever leave the locker room. Facials and massages I can do.

“So have you thought about your goals? What you would like to accomplish? Do you want to meet the trainers?”

She’s still babbling on as we head to the main floor. There are stadium risers with what looks like more than a hundred treadmills. Stationary bikes against a far wall, and lots of machines I’ve never seen before. I see a man and a woman standing near a Nautilus machine wearing the same shirt as chatty Cathy over here. They must be trainers. Shayna whispers in my ear.

“Now, Lisa over there is fine, but if you really want a hard workout, Caleb is who you want. He’s also one of our massage therapists, and his hands are amazing.”

She says that with double meaning. Amazing hands? Hard workout? Maybe I’m just horny and hearing things, but I
know
I heard her emphasize certain words. She waves her hand and motions to both of them, but he’s the only one who responds. He comes jogging toward us, and I feel like I’m going to pass out. Yes, he’s that freaking hot.

“Caleb, this is Melanie, one of our newest members. Can you possibly finish up her tour? I need to run back to my office. You’re in good hands, Melanie!”

I
swear
she did it again. I heard it. He takes the perky baton from Shayna and runs with it.

“What are your goals, Melanie? Can I train you to help you achieve them?”

He doesn’t look like he fully buys into the pom-pom routine here, but he is super fit. Like, crazy fit. Like, I want to lick his chest kind of fit. I feel myself breaking into a sweat. He’s still talking to me but I can’t hear him, I just stare at his beautiful, soft lips speaking to me.

“Am I right?”

He’s looking at me expectantly. Double shit!

“I’m sorry. I missed that last part, what did you say?”

My face has to look like a tomato by now.

“I said you have a great build. Were you a gymnast? A dancer?”

“I was a cheerleader in high school, lots of gymnastics, too. I’ve always been a little insecure about my overly muscular legs. I’m built like a tank.”

He’s eyeballing me up and down. Jesus, these pants leave nothing to the imagination. I feel like I’m standing here naked.

“Definitely
not
a tank. Muscular and sexy, yes, but not a tank.”

It’s times like this I’m so glad I’m not a man. I would be sporting the biggest boner if I were, I’m that turned on. This guy is
good
. He must have a client list a mile long, and I’m adding my name to it as soon as I run back to Shayna’s office and grab it. Motivation with him will
not
be a problem.

I sign up for his next available session on Wednesday morning at 6 a.m. Gross. That’s an ungodly time of day to be awake. I’ll have to see if Katie will take the boys to the bus that morning. That won’t work going forward, but I’m dying to get going with him. For the training, of course.

I get up extra early to do my make-up, what an idiot, and make sure I smell good. It may be a gym, but I’m still a proper southern woman who wants to look and smell nice. I think I was in my twenties the first time I ever saw my mother without her hair and make-up done. I thought she was dying for sure, from her lack of effort and the way she looked. Being a woman in the South means you are taught very young how to look and act like a lady. That implies full make-up at all times, no exceptions. I’ve softened that rule quite a bit due to a house full of boys and sheer laziness, but I want to make a good impression on Caleb. For the training, of course.

The enormous parking lot is almost completely empty. There are a few cars parked in the back, employees I assume, and a couple out front. The lights are glowing in the giant temple of fitness, and it looks odd in the darkness before dawn. I see Caleb running on one of the treadmills that face the large plate glass windows. He’s worked up a good sweat already. I pause and watch for a few moments. He’s not wearing a shirt and his chest is glistening. My mouth is watering. Jesus! My
mouth
is
watering
. How long
has
it been? I’m startled out of my reverie by Miss Mouth.