“Was not representative,” she finished. “You mentioned that.”
“It was caused by excessive speed.”
“That tends to be involved.”
I pressed my lips together. Her eyes brightened.
“You’re trying not to laugh,” she said.
“I am not.”
“You are.”
“This meeting should remain focused.”
“Tomorrow will be focused. Mobility, strength, and easy running.”
“I can run.”
“The safety clip disagrees.”
“That issue has been resolved.”
Dani laughed. I did too, before I could control it. Her surprise held for half a second, and the consultation room became newly, inconveniently intimate. I reached for my bag.
“So, six tomorrow?”
Dani stood.
“Six tomorrow.”
She handed me the bag instead of carrying it. A professional improvement.
At the door, she said, “Amy?”
I turned.
“Don’t run today.”
“I had planned an evening session.”
“Cancel it. I watched you run.”
“For less than three minutes.”
“Long enough to prescribe recovery from your attempted defeat of Geraldine.”
“I was not—”
“Six tomorrow, Price.”
She smiled and walked away. I remained in the doorway. Price. I should have disliked the nickname. I did dislike it. Mostly.
Tessa was still awake when I returned home, eating toast over the sink.
“How was the trainer?”
“Unprofessional.”
