Page 36 of Nanny for the Damaged Ex-SEAL

"Miranda is my friend. She’s looking to work out three times a week. She has a home gym but is having trouble staying motivated, so I told her she should come register here. The thing is, I’d train her myself, but you know how that doesn't go the best with friends. So, I was wondering if you can squeeze her into your list of clients."

I pull my hand away from hers politely. "I'm sure I can. One of my clients just pulled out because of a back injury at work. So yeah, a spot is open."

"Great. He'll take care of you," he says to Miranda. If you need me, I'll be at my spot."

I nod at her. "So, you're starting today, right? I see you're dressed."

"I'm ready to go. You see, I work mostly from home, so I haven’t been getting much exercise. I'm losing all of my muscle. I'm only thirty-one, I shouldn’t be this unfit."

“Yeah, I understand. Health is wealth.”

"Health is wealth," she repeats after me.

"Since you've not been working out at all, we’ll start from the basics. Ground zero."

She nods and adjusts her sports bra.

When I look back, I see my other client chatting up someone. He's finished his reps for the day, so we say goodbye and I take on Miranda.

In between burpees, she says. "You're really fit. How many times a week do you work out?"

"As many times as I want. I was in the Navy. I was a SEAL, just recently resigned, so most of this was built in the line of duty. I'm just maintaining it now."

"Oh. A SEAL. That's hot. Did you kill people?"

I hesitate. "What a question."

She laughs. "Don't mind me. I like to get to the nitty-gritty of things."

I chuckle. "Our missions were classified so I can't tell you anything about them. Sorry."

She nods. "I understand."

Miranda and I continue to have these types of conversations over the week. She’s the chattiest client, and I need the distraction, so one day when she invites me to lunch after one of our workout sessions, I say yes.

"This is my favorite restaurant in Long Beach," she says, staring out of the floor-to-ceiling window with the name of the restaurant boldly written on it. “It's a beautiful restaurant."

"It is. I’ve never been here before. I don't eat out much."

"And you can wear whatever you want! It's so casual and chill. Look at us in our sweatpants and shit."

"Yeah, thank God for that. I don't really do formal."

"You know, I moved to Long Beach when I was twenty-one. I'm part of the city now, and it's part of me."

"That's a long time. I moved here a few months ago, but I also lived here when I was a kid. I moved here from San Marino. After retiring from service and after my wife passed away, I needed a change of scenery."

"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear about your wife. That explains your sad eyes."

"Do I have sad eyes? I don't."

"Maybe not always, but you do. I noticed the first time I met you."

"Maybe I was just not feeling like myself that day."

"Maybe. Another thing I notice is…"

"I have a sad mouth?" I say sarcastically.

---