Chapter Five
She has a gym bag slung over one shoulder and a canvas dog carrier in her opposite hand. My stomach starts to ache, and I’m pretty sure it’s not from the various crunches Ryan gifted me with.
Jasmine rolls forward in her chair. “Does she have a dog with her?”
Ryan turns to the door. “Nah. She wouldn’t bring a dog in here.” Ha! Yes, she would.
“Then why’s her bag wiggling?”
The girl in the electric-orange sports bra rushes toward us, her high ponytail swinging at the nape of her neck. “Sorry I’m late, Ry. The groomer was totally behind, and I didn’t have time to take Bitty home. Fridays are crazy for me.” She gestures—a little helplessly, I might add—to the carrier. “Jazz, can she sit next to your desk while I train?” Without waiting for a response, she sets it near her feet.
Jasmine’s nostril twitches, and for a second, it looks like she wants to hit something, but she forces a smile. “Sure.” She lifts her shoulders and widens her grin. “I’d love to keep little Bitty right next to me while I work.”
“Oh, thank you! I can take her out if you want to hold her.” She kneels next to the carrier and begins to unzip it.
Jasmine holds up a hand. “It’s cool. I have work to do.”
“Of course! I’m sorry.” She stands. If she were wearing an orange party hat, she’d look like a traffic cone. She offers me a wilted hand. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Claire.” Some people would call her delicate, but I’m not in the mood to be polite.
“I’m Katie.”
She turns to Jasmine. “Thanks again. I really appreciate it.”
Ugh. She’s totally sweet. Brad was obviously nuzzling her dog to impress her. He probably got her number. Oh God. What if he’s used his new gel with her?
“All right. Let’s do this, Claire,” Ryan booms. “Put your stuff in a cubby and grab a rope. I’ll be there in a sec.”
She scrunches up her face. “Can I warm up on the treadmill instead? My knees are sore today.”
“Yep. Get to it. We’ve already lost time.”
“Thank you!” She sashays to the cubbies, and Ryan circles the desk, placing his hands on Jasmine’s shoulders.
“Sorry about this. I owe you one.” He speaks softly, his mouth near her ear.
She snorts. “I’m going to start calling you Bitty.”
He squeezes her shoulders, massaging them. “You wouldn’t. You’re too sweet for that.” He ruffles her cropped hair. “So soft. Just like a baby bunny.”
She swats his hand, and he laughs, stepping away. “Go tend to your client. And I’m telling you now, if her dog pees on me, you’re going to pay.”
“Understood,” he says solemnly.
“And my hair is nothing like a bunny. It’s fierce.” She pushes the sides up so the spikes stand tall.
He backs away. “Fierce like a fuzzy duckling. I can’t keep my hands off it.”
“Fuck you, Brincatt.”
“Keep dreaming of the day.” He spins and jogs over to the mats.
She rolls her eyes. “Pink gloves or black?”
“I’ll take the black ones.” I bend to tie my shoe as my brain speeds through options. I shouldn’t care, but I need to know. “That girl—Claire—looks familiar. I’m trying to place her.”
“She’s been here for only a few weeks. If I recall, she won a month of training from a silent auction or something.”
“Hmm. Maybe she’s a friend of a friend.” I pause and feign a pensive look. “Or maybe I know the guy she’s dating.”
Jasmine passes me a bag. “You’re all set. I gave you a size small T-shirt. And I wouldn’t know who she’s dating. Hell, I didn’t know she had a pet rat until today.”
I laugh. “Rat?”
She lifts the carrier case. “Look at her.” She places it back on the ground—gently, I notice. “And who the fuck names their dog Bitty?”
“I would’ve named her Spike. See you next time.”
“Good call.” She holds up a hand in a half wave.
I start for the front door, but curiosity yanks me toward the treadmill. If Brad got her number, I want to know. Ryan looks up as I approach. “So I’m all signed up and paid for.”
“Great. I’ll text you later, and we’ll get our next session locked in.”
“Thanks.”
Claire works the treadmill like a pro, arms pumping by her sides, and she catches my eye in the mirror in front of her. It’s the opening I need. “You look familiar to me. Well, you and the dog. I’m trying to think.”
She bobs her head and laughs. “It’s just my face. I hear it all the time.”
Tapping a finger to my lips, I say, “I know! You were at the drugstore last week. I noticed you because you had your cute little dog with you.”
Her feet flutter, as though she attempted an entrechat, and she stumbles, but Ryan is quick. He pulls the red emergency cord and catches her arm, preventing her from breaking a limb.
“Oh my gosh! What a spaz I am.” She giggles and hops back onto the treadmill, a sheepish smile crossing her lips as she resumes walking at a slower pace. “Was that you I reached past to get my makeup?”
“Yes.”
“That was right before I met this darling guy!” She flicks her gaze to Ryan. “I can’t believe I didn’t tell you about it yet. Bitty ran up to him, and he was so sweet with her. My hot-guy bait!” She claps her hands. If I were to bet, I’d say she has a background in dance or cheerleading. “We have a date for tomorrow night. He invited me to go bowling. How fun, right? So unique.”
Brad took me bowling on our first date. Instead of wanting to binge on a handful of jelly beans or scratch at the wounds he caused, I want to high-five my reflection in the mirror. There’s no jealous pang in my heart, no burning in my eyes. I just feel free.
“Sounds nice,” I say at the same time Ryan taps her shoulder.
“Told you it’d happen when you least expect it.” His eyes land on mine. “Always happens that way, right?”
My breath catches in my throat, but I shrug, playing it cool. He didn’t mean anything by it. “Sometimes, I guess.”
“Wait. Is this the night I saw you at Happy Veggie? The night you saw—”
“Uh, I can’t remember. Maybe. Anyway, have fun guys! I need to run. Big plans tonight. See you later.”
“Bye, Katie.” Ryan lifts a hand in a wave, his expression hard to read.
I can’t get to the door fast enough, tripping past words that could’ve trapped me in an awkward mess. That was a close one. I exhale as I unlock my car. It all turned out fine. Something to add to my gratitude list. And the biggest thing to add, something I should write in bold caps, is that I have successfully put Brad behind me.
Lauren pops into my room, purse in hand, while I finish drying my hair. “Hey. I’ll be just a sec,” I say, pausing the dryer and tilting my head. “It’s taking longer than usual, because as much as I hate to admit it, my arms are jelly.”
“From today? Already?”
I stand upright and roll my eyes—at myself, not her. It’s possible I pushed myself a little harder than I should’ve today. But with Ryan standing there encouraging me, I shot into overdrive. “Yeah. My poor biceps are kind of nonexistent.” Setting the blow-dryer on the counter, I exchange it for a brush and smooth my hair. It’s shiny and straight and doesn’t look half bad.
“No, they’re not. It’s just a different type of workout. You look great. Are you ready to go?”
Taking a final look at myself in the mirror, I decide I like what I see. I’m wearing a simple white top with dark denim skinny jeans and my favorite rose-gold, layered-stone necklace. It was a gift from Hannah for my twenty-first birthday. “Let’s go.”
Yia Mas is lively with chatter and the clatter of silverware. Our table of four is filled with small plates containing delectable Greek bites—riganatha, dolmades, tyropitakia, and shrimp saganaki.
“It’s official,” Tracey says. “I’ve just consumed my weight in cheese.”
Fiona pops another bite into her mouth. “Doesn’t matter. It’s your birthday. Eat all the cheese you want.”
To be honest, I’m feeling a bit like a puffed cheese ball myself. It’s like all the flaky dough is expanding inside me. I take a sip of white wine, enjoying the crisp coolness of it.
Lauren taps my arm. “That guy at the table diagonally across from us keeps looking at you.” Tipping her head, she whispers, “The one in the blue shirt.”
“What’s this?” Fiona asks, turning abruptly. God, she’s as subtle as a hired party clown.
Tracey swivels, too, her shiny black hair fanning out like she’s doing a photo shoot for a shampoo ad. I sip my wine and face Lauren. “I can’t even look with these two ogling him. Is he someone we know or a random guy?”
“Random. I’ve never seen him. He’s cute, though.” She smiles. “I mean, cute to me, but you always go for the nerdy guys. He’s definitely not that.”
Curiosity pushes me, and I look across the tables to his. How did I not notice them before? The back of Jasmine’s head is bright like a dandelion. He catches my eye and stands, waving.
“You know him?” Tracey asks, watching with interest as he walks toward our table.
“He’s from the gym,” I utter. Stealing a look at Fiona, I whisper, “Don’t embarrass me!” seconds before he arrives beside our table.
“Hey, I thought I recognized you. You just started training with Ryan, right?”
“Yeah. I’m Katie.”
“Katie. That’s right. Javier,” he says, extending his hand, which is as big as a baseball glove. “Hey, ladies,” he says to Fi, Tracey, and Lauren before returning his gaze to me. “Ryan says you’re kicking ass.”
The puffy feeling I had from all the cheese evaporates, replaced by a floating sensation, like I’ve been filled with helium. “That sounds like something he would say.” I’m sure I’m smiling like a fool. “He’s very encouraging.”
“The best.” Motioning to his table, he says, “A bunch of us from the gym came out tonight to celebrate my birthday, but Ryan had a family thing.”
“It’s your birthday today?” Fiona asks.
“Yep. My twenty-eighth.”
Tracey looks up at him, her brown eyes sparkling. “Cheers to an awesome birthday. It’s mine today, too.”
“No way. Happy birthday.” He high-fives her, and her hand is like a child’s compared to his. “Good to see you, Katie, and nice to meet you, ladies. I’ll tell Ryan I saw you.”
“Yeah. Tell him I said hi.”
As he walks away, Fiona places both hands on the table and leans forward. “Okay, what gym are you going to, and where can I sign up? That guy is an Adonis.”
Lauren drapes an arm around my shoulders. “Our little Katie has joined a kickboxing gym. She’s legitimately transforming herself into a badass.”
“Hardly,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I’m just learning how to jump rope, so let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
Tracey waves a hand. “Who cares? Does this Ryan guy who says you’re kicking ass look like him?”
“No,” I say, biting my smile. “Ryan isn’t as bulky, but he’s super fit, and he has a lot of tattoos.”
“You think he’s cute, don’t you? I can tell by that smile!” Fiona teases. “Katie’s going rogue with a bad boy.”
“I am not! Ryan’s my trainer. That’s it.”
Lauren nods and swirls her wine. “Now it’s all making sense. That’s why you turned bright red when you told me you signed up for training.”
“Stop!” I say, laughing. “You guys are too much.”
“Give us more,” Fi says, thoroughly enjoying herself. “Hair color? Eyes? Lay it on me.”
Shaking my head, I try to come up with an excuse to avoid the questions, but I know she’ll persevere until she has all the information she wants. It’s why she killed it in law school. “Fine. He has brown hair that falls to his jawline, and his eyes are green.” They stare at me, eyes wide. “He’s hot, okay? There. I said it.”
“I knew it! You should flirt. Have some fun,” Fiona says. “God knows you deserve it after dealing with the BradAss.”
“He wasn’t always an ass,” I say, feeling oddly protective—maybe not of Brad, but of my decision to date him.
“He kind of was,” Tracey says, a sympathetic look in her eyes. “Sorry, but it’s true.”
“Whatever, he’s in the past, right? And there are plenty of great guys out there,” I add, ready to shift the conversation. “Paul is an awesome guy.”
Lauren touches her head to mine. “He is, right? I feel so lucky to have found him.”
Tracey taps the table with a spoon. “I’ve been thinking, now that I’m a quarter of a century and all,” she starts, “do you guys ever feel like you have five years left to find someone to marry and have kids with?”
“Whoa,” Fi says. “Deep thoughts there.”
“Look, we’re all smart, career-oriented women. I get that we can remain single, adopt a baby at forty, and be highly successful in both career and life. But there’s a big part of me that wants both. I want to fall in love and get married in a gorgeous silk dress. I want to have babies, and be an amazing mom, and a respected prosecutor.”
She’s already working in the D.A.’s office, and she’s wickedly smart, so it’s not a stretch to imagine her as a prosecutor. There’s a path that will get her to where she wants to land. But the rest of it? All I see is a big blur. How do we ever know when—or if—we’ll meet the right person?
Lauren nods. “I hear you. But I think we have to know what we want, really feel it in our hearts, and then we proceed with our lives. Things have a way of showing up when we’re ready.”
“Or,” Fiona says, a brow raised, “you can choose to actively search for the right man in the same way you pursued your law degree and job. There’s nothing wrong with flipping through online profiles. Sure, you’ll have to weed out the masses, but at least you’ll have the satisfaction of being in control of it all.”
“I don’t know. I met Paul at the laundromat the day the washer broke at our apartment. It was the last place I expected to meet a guy. I was dressed in sweaty yoga clothes and was in a bad mood.” She shrugs. “He made me laugh. That was it. We literally sat there on the empty dryers and talked during the entire wash cycle.”
Tracey looks at me from across the table. “What’s your opinion, Katie?”
“I want it all, too. But I have no idea how it will happen. My gran always told me to follow my dreams. Sometimes it’s hard to get a good grip on exactly what they are, but once I feel it, I’m going after it with all I have.”
“Fair enough,” Fiona says, raising her glass. “Here’s to having it all.” We toast together, and I say a silent thank you for what I have right here at this table: the best group of friends I could ask for.