Page 33 of Sweet Spot
I wait until she disappears into the living room before I look at my phone.
Keira: 350 reps done. You’re a sadist asshole. I can’t feel my arms.
And another that came in a few minutes later.
Keira: I don’t see anything on tomorrow’s plan. Same as today?
I love that, even when she’s calling me an asshole for putting her through the wringer, she’s asking for more. And I don’t have to ask if the extra fifty reps she did was a silent fuck you—I know it was.
“Lincoln,” Gram admonishes.
I glance up from my phone as I tap out a text to Keira. Gram’s expression changes from annoyed to something I can’t place, curious maybe.
“Sorry, Gram.” I fire off the message and pocket my phone.
After Marge and Sweetie leave, I help Gram clean up.
“Dinner was fantastic. As usual.”
She smiles and hands me another plate to dry.
“And I saw Marge eyeing these dishes with envy.”
She laughs softly, but the quiet surrounds us again. There is a look of melancholy on her face that makes me wonder, but not ask, if she’s thinking of Pop.
After the dishes are done, Gram flips off the kitchen light and walks me to the front door.
“Same time next week?”
“Mm-hmm. And maybe bring whoever you were texting earlier. It’ll save me a phone call or two to find your next date.”
I try to picture Keira at dinner with Gram but shut down that train of thought fast. Do I think it would have been more fun, if not hazardous to my being, than sitting across from Sweetie all night? Yes. Is it highly inappropriate that I think that? Also yes.
“That was a client, Gram. I told you I’m not dating right now. Well, unless you count the blind dates you keep setting me up on, then I guess technically I am dating, but it’s very solidly against my wishes.”
She doesn’t bother apologizing. I’m sure tonight’s missed love connection has just made her that much more determined. “A female client?”
I hesitate to answer a second too long, and Gram smiles all too knowingly. I think back to texting Keira, but I don’t see how anything I did or said could have made Gram think it was a woman. Maybe I’m not as good as I thought at hiding how much I’m enjoying working with Keira.
“Yeah, so? I have lots of female clients.” Keira is my onlypersonalfemale client, but the website has many, so Gram doesn’t know any better.
“I saw that look in your eyes. You were smiling, for heaven’s sake.”
“I smile.” Though as I say it, I realize I’m frowning.
Gram laughs and touches my cheek with her palm. “I love you. Don’t work too hard. Have fun. Enjoy this time in your life. It goes fast.”
I’m still thinking about Gram’s words when I get home. I grab a beer, turn on ESPN, and open my laptop. Gram doesn’t understand this is fun. I love my job. The pride and satisfaction I feel when a client succeeds is better than any high.
And, yeah, I miss having a woman to come home to sometimes, but any time that longing gets too heavy, I think about the look of disappointment Lacey wore like the latest fashion for the last year of our marriage.
Yeah, no thanks. I’d rather be single for the rest of my life than go through that again. Perpetually disappointing the person you care about the most chips away at you. Touching people’s lives by making them better at something they love, inspiring them to be the best they can, isn’t a bad way to spend my days.
It’s late Saturday night, so I don’t call or text Keira about tomorrow’s training plan. I send instructions via the site, which will notify her by email.
I press send and reach for my beer, but as I’m setting it down, she messages me on the site’s chat feature.
Keira: Are you feeling okay? Have you been body snatched? Did someone hack your account?
