The members laughed. Amy pressed the incline button harder than necessary. We demonstrated starting speed, walking posture, and safe transitions. She was good. Clear without being intimidating. Careful without overexplaining. When one woman appeared nervous about stepping onto the moving belt, Amy slowed the machine and stood beside her.
“There is no correct speed except one you can control,” she said.
The instruction was mine. Not word for word, but the meaning. Pride rose in me. Amy noticed me watching.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re smiling.”
“You’re a good teacher.”
For once, no joke followed.
“Thank you.”
Blake filmed the interaction. The clip would probably become content. For once, I did not care. After the demonstration, Amy went to the café for water. I remained behind to reset the machines. When I finished, I found her near the front windowswith Evelyn. Evelyn stood close. Too close. One hand rested lightly on Amy’s forearm. The touch was polite.
Friendly. Possibly accidental. My body interpreted it as a declaration of war. I stopped beside the café entrance. Vanessa was nowhere nearby. Evelyn said something I could not hear. Amy shook her head. Evelyn’s hand remained. I knew Amy could handle her ex. I knew I had no right to interfere. I knew rule four applied in both directions. I walked toward them.
“Amy,” I said.
She turned. Relief appeared on her face. That justified everything that followed. I put an arm around her waist and kissed her temple. Level Two. Context dependent. Verbal confirmation when practical. It had not been practical.
“Baby,” I said, “Blake needs us.”
Amy went rigid. Evelyn’s eyebrows rose.Babyhad been a mistake—not because it was affectionate, but because it sounded good. Amy recovered.
“Now?”
“Urgent treadmill issue.”
Evelyn looked toward the cardio floor.
“No one appears injured.”
“Emotional emergency.”
Amy’s hand settled lightly against my chest. The touch could have been restraint. Or performance. Either way, I felt it everywhere.
“Evelyn was asking about coffee,” she said.
“With you?”
Evelyn smiled. “A private conversation.”
I kept my arm around Amy.
“Sounds fun.”
“It is professional,” Amy said.
Evelyn looked at her. “Partly.”
There. I disliked partly.
“What’s the other part?” I asked.
