Page 71 of Love Overdose: St. Louis

“I know.” The smile returned to her voice. “I’ll see you Sunday and wear something you can move in.”

“I will.”

She laughed. “Good night, Doctor.”

“Good night, beautiful.”

I ended the call and stood. Fatigue lingered in my muscles, and hunger twisted in my stomach, yet I felt satisfied after that call with Frankie. She made me never want to hang up on another call with her.

I opened my office door and returned to my patient.

10

frankie

10:58 A.M.

Sunday

“Why are y’all dressed like that?”

Naomi and Journey stood inside the lobby of my studio wearing workout clothes and matching smiles that told me they had planned this foolishness together. Naomi looked prepared. Black cycling leggings hugged her legs, and a fitted lavender top covered her torso. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail, and she carried a water bottle large enough to survive an afternoon in the desert.

Journey wore loose gray sweatpants, an oversized T-shirt, spotless white sneakers, and a pink sweatband across her forehead. She held a small bottle of water and a folded hand towel. Her outfit looked less like exercise preparation and more like a costume.

“We came to support you,” Naomi said.

Journey lifted her towel. “And improve our cardiovascular health.”

“Your what?”

“My cardiovascular health. Keep up, Frankie.”

I looked at Naomi. “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing. She volunteered.”

“I was under emotional duress,” Journey said. “Naomi told me I was being a bad friend because I’d never attended one of your classes.”

“I said we should surprise Frankie.”

“And I heard the accusation beneath it.”

Naomi rolled her eyes. The women gathering behind them greeted me as they entered the studio. Several paused to admire Journey’s sweatband. She accepted the attention.

“What happened to you and exercise having philosophical differences?” I asked.

“We attended counseling. We’re trying again.”

I laughed and hugged them both.

“I’m happy to see y’all.”

Journey squeezed me. “You better be. I woke up early on a Sunday for this.”

“It’s eleven a.m.”

“Exactly.”