Page 52 of Beautiful Broken Love

“Make sure your core is nice and firm, Davina.”

I glanced up at my Pilates instructor, Betsy, a passive-aggressive blond woman with a nose so small and surgically chipped away she may as well not have had one. She forced a smile at me, then sauntered away to criticize the next victim.

Okay. So, I’d gotten a little out of shape the last couple of months. Sue me. The last thing that’d been on my mind was working out. I remembered now why I’d stopped coming to this Pilates class with Tish before Lew passed away. Betsy was aB-I-T-C-H.

A loud thump sounded behind me, and then a sharp gasp pierced the air. I looked at Octavia, who had collapsed from her kneeling side kicks.

“You must keep your coreengaged, Octavia!” Betsy shrilled from across the room.

Octavia grimaced at me, and I snorted a laugh.

When class concluded and we left the building, Octavia said, “Remind me to never do another class like that with you ever again.”

“Oh, I won’t be returning. Trust me,” I laughed, rubbing the back of my neck. “I forgot how hard it was.”

Inside the car, Octavia took big gulps of water before stabbing me with a glare. “Betsy out here thinking we all have cores built like Roman soldiers. Like, girl—we are not all made like you! Some of us love cake!”

I broke out in a laugh as I started the engine. Octavia was going to be with me for a few weeks, since she was no longer nannying that spoiled kid she always talked about. His parents had let her go, said they didn’t like what she was teaching him. I knew exactly what my sister was teaching that kid:manners.

We drove to our favorite smoothie spot, and as we waited at the drive-through, Octavia gasped and said, “Oh snap! Did you see this?”

“See what?”

“Look.” She gave me her phone, and the first thing I saw was an image of Deke in his basketball uniform midair as he released the ball. Then there was an image of a familiar beautiful bronze-looking woman with slightly oversize lips and long, glossy black hair.

Giselle Grace. The picture was split in half to showcase both of them. It was an article.

“Tavia, I don’t wanna read this.” I handed the phone back to her. Truthfully, Ididwant to read it, but I already felt bad enough about Deke’s last email. The last thing I wanted was to be reminded of him.

“Didn’t you say you keep in touch with him?” my sister asked, eyeing me.

“Here and there, yeah.” I grabbed the smoothies from the employee at the drive-through window. “But I don’t need to know about his love life.”

I thanked the worker and drove away, glad Octavia had her smoothie and could keep her mouth busy with that.

But of course, when we got home, she blurted out, “Why don’t you just fuck him already?”

“Octavia!” I frowned as I dropped my keys and purse on the kitchen countertop.

“What? I’m just asking. If I had direct contact with an NBA player, I’d be getting my fix. You know they’re my kryptonite. I usually hate men, but an NBA or NFL player could get it—but only because I know they won’t cling to me, you know? They’ve got other stuff to worry about. Plus, they’re consumed with their careers.”

“Well, it’s not like that with Deke, so I wish you and Tish would stop trying to make nothing into something.”

“Okay, look. I get it. You lost Lew, and that was hard. It stillishard! I can’t imagine what you feel walking into this house every single day and seeing pictures of him at every corner.”

I swallowed, trying not to search the walls and shelves for said photos.

“Lew was like a brother to me, and I loved him, but you can’t possibly think you’ll never be serious with another man again, Vina. Come on. You’re thirty-two, not eighty-two.”

“Idon’twant to be serious with anyone else, Octavia.” I grabbed my strawberry-banana smoothie and finished it off.

“So you don’t plan on dating or getting married ever again?” she asked, hand on her hip.

I cocked a brow. “Do you?”

She pointed a stern finger at me. “You don’t get to do that! You know I hate dating.” She visibly shuddered. “Such a waste of time.”

I smirked.

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