Page 4 of Every Inch of You
Chapter Two
VIVIAN
Iwould have sleptthrough the alarm if Justin Timberlake hadn’t pounced onto my chest. It was an overcast March morning, typical of the Pacific Northwest this time of year, but it felt dark and cloudy in my brain and my body too. It wasn’t a hangover. Only three glasses of wine had been consumed the night before, when Aubrey shared her big news with me, but I had a serious case of the Mondays and an even worse case of You’re Going To Die Alone and Justin Timberlake Will Eat Your Dead LonelyFace.
My sister was right. I may have been a little depressed. It had been so easy to live in denial of any anger, sadness and feelings of abandonment in the three months since Connor had moved out, and the time just flew by. Even in the dead of winter and the aftermath of the absolute worst holiday season ever, I was able to focus on how lucky I was to not have to spend one more day living with a man who didn’t love me the way I deserved to be loved, who didn’t allow “bad carbs” in the house (but was perfectly fine keeping it cluttered with bad vibes), and who got really grumpy if I ever left my books and papers lying around when I was in the middle of reading or writing onthem.
The first glorious break-up phase, wherein I could rejoice in my freedom, was now over. Phase Two had begun. The man I’d moved to Portland with had become an engaged man while I was busy engaging in carbohydrate orgies all by myself. The man I’d given up a great job opportunity in Seattle for, so he could take a great job in Portland, had moved back to Seattle and started a new life with Slutface, while I had been sitting on my ever-widening ass every night on my new sofa, watching every single movie and show he’d refused to watch with me. I hoped Slutface knew that even the worst episode ofSex and the Citywas better than the best night of sex with ConnorDevlin.
Okay, if I was being honest, when he brought his A-game to bed it was pretty great. It was binge-worthy. But I was not going to think about that. I wasn’t going to think about anything besides feeding my cat, replenishing my fluids, and getting to work on time for my meeting with myboss.
* * *
Iwasone minute late for my meeting with my boss, but he was five minutes late so it didn’t matter. Traffic in Portland wasn’t anywhere near as bad as in Seattle, but it had gotten pretty ridiculous. My tiny rental house was in the Alberta Arts District, and the law firm I worked for as a corporate paralegal was located in the heart of downtown Portland—about a twenty minute drive. I got out of the house twenty-two minutes before the meeting because I had made the rather poor choice of opting to hunt for pictures of Connor and Slutface on my Seattle Facebook friends’ pages instead of showering oreating.
In the time it had taken me to get to work, I had gone from promising myself that I’d stay positive, take the high road, and never ever go on Facebook again, to vowing to ruin Connor and Slutface’s lives, to mentally composing an email to Connor that expressed my gratitude towards him for leading me to the tiny house that I loved, that was within walking distance of the greatest artisanal ice cream shop on earth, and wished him and his fiancée love, happiness and success—and then I asked Siri about voodoo revenge spells, but Siri gave me directions to Voodoo Donuts instead. Because Siri and all of foodie Portland conspired to get me to eat my feelings instead of going negative.Well played,Siri.
Ihadevery intention of going to Voodoo Donuts after work thatday.
But my sister had other plans forme.
My sister’s plans were literally the opposite of me going to Voodoo Donuts afterwork.
When I’d gottenout of my morning meetings I headed directly to the break room for a desperately-needed organic granola bar and gossip sesh with my best work friend—Frankie, but when I saw the fourteen texts, missed calls and emails from Aubrey I knew I had to call her back immediately. Maybe she had important news about my ex’s humiliatingbreakup!
Shedidn’t.
She had important news about a personal training session at a gym—that she’d set up for me for thatevening.
“It’s called Good Form, and it’s in Kenton. Is that nearyou?”
“Notreally.”
“Great! So this guy’s supposed to be the meanest, toughest, hottest trainer inPortland.”
“Sounds like I should stay away from himthen.”
“My friend Paige and her husband use him—they swear by him. He totally whipped them into shape. His name’s Mitch—he owns the gym and he’s usually impossible to book, but he just had a cancellation, so you have to gotonight.”
“I have to? I kind of had plans for thisevening.”
“Really? Do these plans involve other people, or do they involve bakedgoods?”
“They involve other people serving me bakedgoods.”
“Honey. I think joining a gym would be really good for you at this point in yourlife.”
You mean you think it would be good for the dress you bought forme.
“You need to get out of the house and meet some newpeople.”
She was not wrong about this. She was not wrong about very many things. Like,ever.
“I just texted you the address. Your appointment’s at seven. Don’t be late—you’ll have to fill out some forms. Oh by the way—I’m paying for all of this. I’ve already paid for three months of personal training sessions and a one yearmembership.”
“Aubrey. Thankyou.”
“I want you to enjoy it. I have to go, I’ve got a lunch meeting. Call me after your session! Loveyou!”
