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“We are?”
“Yep. You’re feeling insecure, and Taeli and Ansley have wedding gowns to fit into. So, as a form of solidarity, we’re all going to get in shape,” Erin explains.
“Okay,” I agree.
“Awesome. We’ll meet there tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll have Kaela,” I tell her.
“That’s okay. The gym has childcare. Bring her with you, and she can play in the nursery while we work out.”
“Yes, Mrs. Bunting is great with kids. She has eight grandkids,” Jena declares.
That’s convenient.
Erin raises her glass. “Here’s to tightening up all our saggy bits!”
We all take a sip of our cocktails.
Anna
Ifinish packing Kaela’s diaper bag just as the sound of a horn comes from the driveway. Tossing the bag over my shoulder, I pluck Kaela from the crib and run out the door.
Taeli is already pulling Kaela’s car seat from my car and securing it in her backseat.
Erin decided we were all going to start working out to get ready for Taeli’s and Ansley’s upcoming weddings, so she signed us all up for a Saturday afternoon class down at the gym in town.
Erin blasts her horn again, and a groggy-looking Brandee emerges from her door and gives her a one-fingered salute as she makes her way to the Jeep.
Once we have Kaela secured, I climb in with Taeli, Erin falls in behind us, and we drive to town.
We pile out in the parking lot, and I undo Kaela and hand her off to Taeli. I grab the diaper bag and Taeli’s duffel, and we make our way to the entrance of the gym, running into Weston and Morris as they exit.
“Hey, ladies,” Weston says as he pulls a T-shirt over his bare chest.
“What are you guys doing here?” Morris asks.
“Painting pottery. What the hell do you think we’re doing here?” Erin asks.
“Pottery?” Morris repeats, confused.
“We’re here for the ladies’ boot camp class,” Taeli clarifies.
Weston stops in front of me, blocking my procession. “What are you wearing?”
I look down at my baggy jogging pants and an oversize sweatshirt.
“Workout clothes,” I answer.
He grins. “Whose workout clothes? Jabba the Hutt’s?”
“Ha-ha,” I snap and stomp past him.
He throws an arm out and snatches me off my feet and swings me around.
“I’m joking,” he says.
“Ew, you’re getting your sweat all over me,” I squeal.
