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I remember asking him several times to dinner at Riley’s, and each time, he would come up with an excuse why he couldn’t. I feel a little annoyed and used as I remember. I had been a fool thinking that Thomas and I had a future together.
I think about my reaction to his request to attend my prenatal appointment. I’d immediately turned to mush. That’s the kind of thinking that gets me hurt. I have to stop it and constantly remind myself that Thomas is my sperm donor, that’s all.
I push my stool back and get up, even though everything in me wants to stay and talk and pretend that Thomas and I are a real couple. “I need to get ready for work.”
He looks at me in surprise. “I guess that’s my cue to leave too.” He stands and takes my cup and his and carries them to the sink.
My gaze is drawn to his tight, gorgeous ass, and my hands long to squeeze it. A jolt of desire rushes through me, and I squeeze my thighs together for some relief.
He rinses the cups, and when he’s done, he follows me to the front door. I turn to face him. My breath stops as I take in his jaw that holds a shadow of dark stubble. A longing to cup his cheek comes over me, and I quickly remind myself that’s not what Thomas and I are about.
“So, I’ll see you this afternoon?” he asks.
“Yeah. I can pick you up if you like.” We sound like we are arranging a business meeting. “Ten to two?”
“Sounds good.”
He looks like he wants to kiss me but seems to change his mind. Disappointment courses through me when he turns and opens the door, and with a wave, he’s gone.
The sound of the door banging jolts me from my thoughts, and I turn around and pad to the bathroom to get ready for the day.
At 8 AM, I’m walking into the gym. I wave to Samantha, the receptionist, and walk around the gym. The cleaners have already been in, and everything is sparkling clean. There’s an early morning aerobics class going on, and the weights room is full of our regular morning clients.
After seeing that everything is running smoothly, I head to my office at the very back. I settle at my desk and power on my computer. I log into the system and into the register to see what sales looked like yesterday. Satisfied with that, I check my email and respond to a few, the rest of which are from salespeople peddling gym equipment.
I follow the same routine every morning, and I log onto social media and into our various accounts. Our instructors usually post pictures and other gym-related stuff, and there are the usual snarky comments from people who thrive on nastiness.
Thomas sneaks into my thoughts, and I find myself wondering what he’s doing at this very moment. I glance at the time. Half-past nine. Time is dragging. My administrative tasks were done for the day, I shut down my computer and leave the office.
As I enter the weights room, I grind to a halt when I see a familiar figure. My mother. She’s dressed in another lime green inappropriate outfit, and from what I can make out, she’s flirting with Ian, one of the regulars.
She sees me, says something to Ian, who laughs, and then comes to me. “Hello, darling.” She air kisses me, something she never used to do until a few weeks back.
“Hi, Mom.” I can’t disguise the weariness in my voice. “Are you flirting with Ian?”
She leans to my ear. “He’s cute.”
I’m horrified. “Mom! He’s half your age.”
“Age is just but a number, and besides, I have a feeling he’s going to ask me out.” She sounds like a giddy teenager.
This is going too far. I find myself missing the mother who thought the sun shone from my academically inclined sister and brother. She’s done a complete turnaround but in the most horrible way. The thought of my mother dating one of my clients makes me sick. It’s one thing to become a regular at my gym and quite another to want to date my clients. That’s crossing a line. It could get very ugly.
“We need to talk, Mom.” I take her hand and lead her out of the weights room. We face each other, and from her tight expression, she already suspects what I’m about to say.
“What’s come over you, Mom? This is not like you! You can’t date my clients. It’s just not cool.”
“Why not?” she demands. “People have affairs at the gym all the time. Where else am I going to meet someone if not at the gym?”
I gasp. “An affair? Have you lost your mind?” I stare at her open-mouthed. I thought she was enjoying flirting. The thought of my almost sixty-six-year-old mother having sex with someone I know sickens me.
