Page 77 of Love Overdose: St. Louis

I had swallowed a Plan B as soon as I stepped out of his shower. I’d packed it in my overnight bag because, frankly, you never knew what to expect from a nightcap. Sometimes things got out of control, and boy, had they. But I had enough sense to protect myself afterward.

The last thing I wanted was another pregnancy.

Especially with a man I was still getting to know, no matter how often my body responded as if it had known him forever.

“Frankie!” Journey shouted.

I realized I had missed the transition. Half the class continued the old combination while the other half waited for direction.

“Keep moving!” I called, recovering quickly.

Elijah’s smile widened. He knew exactly where my mind had gone.

I pointed at him. “Don’t get too confident.”

“I haven’t said anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

The playful exchange drew more laughter.

I pushed us into the final combination. Elijah stayed with every count. Naomi did too, although exertion had darkened her cheeks. Journey surrendered to her own choreography. When the song ended, the class applauded. Journey lowered herself to the floor and stretched out on her back.

“I saw my ancestors.”

“Get off my floor,” I said.

“They told me it wasn’t my time.”

Naomi stood over her. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I survived something.”

“You completed a Zumba class.”

“Exactly.”

I lowered the music for the cooldown and led everyone through stretches. Elijah remained in the back, following each movement while I attempted not to stare at the way his shirt clung to his chest.

When class ended, the women gathered their belongings and stopped to speak with me on their way out. Several complimented Elijah’s dancing. He accepted each one calmly, as though walking into his woman’s Zumba class and outperforming half the room was a normal Sunday afternoon.

His woman.

The thought came suddenly, and I didn’t reject it. Once the room began clearing, Naomi approached Elijah and hugged him.

“It’s good to see you.”

“You too.”

“I’m not surprised Christian didn’t come. Zumba conflicts with his beliefs.”

Naomi laughed. “His beliefs?”

“He believes Sundays are for football.”

“That sounds accurate.”

Journey finally rose from the floor and walked toward us with her towel draped over her head.