Page 33 of This Means War

“Did I,” she looks as if she’s forcing the words out, “mess up your meeting yesterday afternoon?”

“Thankfully Saul is always running late. I knew Ashley was worrying about nothing. I got back in plenty of time.”

“Oh good.” She nods, her face clouding slightly. “So Ashley works with you then? Small world.”

So that’s what’s bothering her. Ashley? I shouldn’t be happy about her jealousy, but I am. It means she must at least like me a little.

“Yeah. We lost touch after high school, but then both ended up attending the University of Michigan for law school, then we made our way to this side of the state when a professor of ours retired and decided to start his own firm out here.”

“How nice.” Her tone indicates she finds it anything but.

“So, were you headed out on a walk or something?” I gesture to her clothing.

“A run, actually.” She looks affronted by the suggestion that she’d do anything less. “I am a track and cross-country coach you know.”

“Yes, I know. I just thought since you were pregnant you might not be running anymore.” I eye her stomach. “You’re allowed to run?”

“I’m allowed to run,” she affirms, pursing her lips in amusement. “I just haven’t been very much because of my morning sickness. Not that you would know that since you’re never home.” She saysthis last bit accusingly, and I feel myself bristle in defense. She has no idea the demands I’m under as the youngest senior associate at our firm. Before I can say anything though, she goes on. “Today I’m going to try though, because my girls have a meet later, and I always run a 5k on meet days. It’s sort of a ritual of mine.”

“A 5k, huh?” I consider her. “Want a buddy?”

She studies me. “You really think you can keep up?” She smirks and puts a hand to her hip. “If you want, I’ll give you a head start.”

I almost laugh. “I think I’ll be okay,” I assure her. Even if she weren’t pregnant, Lydia is at least eight inches shorter than me. She’ll probably have to take about three strides for every one of mine. When Ashley and I used to run together she was always snapping at me to slow down.

“Suit yourself,” she says with a shrug. She sets off down the path, and I rush to catch up to her. At first, I’m not alarmed by her brisk pace, since I assume she’s starting out fast in an attempt to impress me, and that she’ll tire quickly and slow down. Except she doesn’t.

As we finish our first mile, I look down at my watch to see we ran it in just under seven minutes. There’s no way she can keep up this pace, I assure myself.

“You doing okay?” She sneaks a peek at me.

“Great,” I lie, making sure not to puff out the word despite my heavy breathing.

“Good, because I’m just warming up.” She’sbluffing, she has to be bluffing.

Nope. My lungs and legs are burning as we sprint through mile two. This one we did in six and half minutes.

“Are you sure this is good for the babies?” I can’t keep the panting out of my voice this time.

“Did you want me to slow down?” she asks innocently.

I grit my teeth. “No.”

I get through the last mile by imagining the look on her face if I allow myself to fall behind. She’ll never let me hear the end of it. By the time I spot the house I’m seriously contemplating pretending to trip, just to have an excuse to slow down. I can’t believe it when I sense her picking up speed for the last 100 yards. I try to tell my legs to stick with her but they don’t cooperate. They’re not happy with me for pushing them so far below their normal 8-minute mile pace.

I’m forced to watch as she increases the distance between us, crossing back into our backyard a full ten seconds before I do. I fight to keep from collapsing as my legs turn to Jell-O beneath me. Eyeing my watch, I see we ran that 5k in just over 20 minutes. That’s a personal best for me.

“Wow, you’re right,” Lydia comments, looking at her own watch, “pregnancy really is slowing me down. Oh well,” she shrugs, “It’s not as if I’m still on the cross-country team at Hope college, so how much does my time really matter anymore?” Without waiting for my reply, she flounces away,leaving me gaping after her.Do not admire the way her legs look in her running shorts, I instruct my wayward body,she just duped you. The self-scolding probably would’ve been more effective if I’d been able to remain standing, but as soon as the back door closes behind her my legs give out, and I find myself on my butt in the grass, chest still heaving from exertion.

Point for her.

Chapter 25

Lydia

My running victoryis short lived thanks to the fact that as soon as I get inside, I have to rush to the bathroom to be sick. Still, when I get in the shower a few minutes later I smile at the memory of the look on Cole’s face. I may not have a lot of talents, but I have always been a fast runner.

There’s no sign of Cole when I get to the kitchen, so I just grab a glass of orange juice and a granola bar, then hit the road. He’s been working all week, leaving me at home to wonder what he and Ashley are up to; well today it’s his turn. Today he can wonder what me and the fourteen girls on my track team are up to. Take that Cole Jacobson.

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