Page 11 of Rush of Jealousy

“Whatever.” She props her hands on her hips. “You weren’t even the one who was naked, so I have no idea why you are still so huffy about it.”

“Because the officer thought I was part of some weird extramarital affair with you!”

“Ugh, let’s put all of that behind us and call it a learning experience and move on to bigger and brighter things. Starting at five p.m. today.”

“What do you have planned?” I groan.

“Just the best stress reliever known to women. I signed you up for a workout class. And it’s free!”

“Claire, first off, they are always free because you sneak me in. Second off, the last time I went, I hurt for a week.”

“Okay, great.” She clicks her tongue and claps her hands together in glee. “See you in a few hours.”

It’s as if my now freed-up time is inspiring Claire to micromanage it. At least her happiness is contagious. Maybe some good can come out of the rubble after all. At the very least, I am sure memories will be made.

* * *

Claire pulls into the parking spot, stopping just in time before she smashes into the other parked car. It’s like she is playing a game of chicken where she is the only participant. She would also be the biggest loser if her car insurance gets raised.

“How are you not hitting more things?” I ask, dumbfounded.

She gives me side-eye. “I don’t know but Ethan refuses to let me drive. Something about not wanting to die, yada yada.”

I grumble under my breath that he is a smart man, earning some glares from Claire.

“Plus, you know I’m prone to motion sickness when I’m not in control.”

“Claire, no one seems to be in control when you get behind the wheel.”

“Wow.” She turns in her seat and waves her hands in front of my face in a wax-on-wax-off type of move. “Erase this negativity. Be gone!”

I stick my tongue out at her, unlatch my belt, and then slide out of the car. My hair is piled messily on top of my head and I am wearing—with Claire’s recommendation—a tight red tankini top and fitted black booty shorts. If it weren’t for a bunch of other patrons walking into the gym wearing similar attire, I may have refused to get out of the car.

“What type of class is this? You never said.”

“Cardio.”

I follow her through the main entrance, where she is greeted like a celebrity. At least half a dozen people jump to say hi and ask her if she is going to add more classes to her teaching schedule. Between working here at the gym, maintaining her status at Entice, attending grad classes, and staying on top of her self-care regimen, I am amazed that Claire has time to do it all. I guess that’s what happens when you are highly motivated, have unlimited energy, and barely sleep. Claire gives noncommittal answers to appease her legions of fans, introduces me to a few who linger, and then ushers me up the stairs to a large studio room.

I glance around the open space and am surprised at how dim the lights are. There is a black wooden platform at the front of the room that is surrounded by speakers. The instructor—also dressed in similar form-fitting attire—stretches and warms up. A herd of women and a few men filter into the room. I spot Blake and wave him over to us. Now I am really curious as to what type of workout class this is.

“Hey you, I didn’t expect to find you here,” I say, giving Blake a hug.

Claire follows suit.

“I never pass up a pilot session. They are my jam. What better way to try a variety of classes without committing,” he explains. “Works for my love life too.”

I scrunch up my nose. “Ew.”

He bursts out laughing. “Angie McFee, you are so hopelessly monogamous.”

“That she is,” Claire chimes in.

I turn to Claire and snicker, “And you have room to talk.” I never saw her so hung up over a man before in all the years of knowing her until she laid eyes on Ethan.

“And not anymore,” I clarify. “Right now, I amhopefully single.”

We take our stances on little black Xs marked with tape on the polished floor. We are spaced pretty far apart, so I imagine this class is going to have a lot of movement. The instructor adjusts her headset and announces, “My assistant is coming around to pass out your knee pads. Please feel free to improvise on any of the moves I show you tonight. This is your show. Be who you are. And do so unapologetically.”

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