Chapter 124

Kadeem brushes my hair back. "Okay," he says, "But tell me why you're nervous." His voice is gentle. He presses his forehead to mine.

I fidget with my hands. Kadeem leans his head back to study me.

How do I explain? Even I don't know what's come over me. Something's been swallowing me like quicksand, for a while, but before, I could kind of shake it.

Now, I've sunk down too deep.

I glance up at Kadeem. His brown eyes, though piercing, have begun to take on a look of caution, like I'm a riddle he can't figure out - and one that might leave him hurting.

An apple or a poison apple?

My mind slips to Susan.

Medicine, or bane?

"While you figure out how to answer that," he begins, slowly when I don't respond, "If you're here, I might as well talk to you about something."

I force back my scattered thoughts and sigh as I climb out of his lap.

"Whatever."

I put my arms across my chest, my body tense.

What a waste of champagne - no matter how dry and cheap it was. My stomach roils.

He scowls at me, then his eyes drift to the side, like he's remembering something.

"Actually," he says, rubbing his forehead, "Let me backtrack for a second. My brain's not really working. Did you really only come in here for an office rendezvous?"

I jut out my chin. "Is that so wrong?"

"Of course not," he says, offering me a half-smile. "What I'm coming around to - in a backwards way, I'll admit - is something I've been meaning to ask you about for a while. I don't know why it's taken me so long." He shakes his head slightly, like he's frustrated with himself. "Ardal, do you want me to rehire you?"

I don't hold back. "God no."

Kadeem arches an eyebrow and leans back in his chair. "Oh," he laughs darkly. "Were things so terrible around here?"

I relax my posture. "Of course not," I say. "I just don't have the bandwidth for personal training right now. I've been hit with too much recently, if you can understand what I mean?"

"I can fire Rory," Kadeem says immediately. "Just say the word and you've got the front desk gig."

I break into a grin. "Tempting. But I was just hired somewhere else, as a matter of fact."

I clear my throat and shift clumsily. "You are looking at the newest housekeeper for Darla's Friendly Cleaning Service."

Kadeem stares at me in surprise. "You'd rather scrub toilets than lead some middle-aged women in their yoga routines?"

I roll my eyes.

"Also," he says, a silly smile starting to appear on his face, "That sounds a lot like a business front for prostitution." He gives me a wink.

"Oh, shut up, Kadeem."

I sigh and lean back against the wall. "And, yes, if it allows me to work part-time so I can be with the kids more - "

"I would hire you back part-time," Kadeem interrupts, incredulous.

"And," I press-on, ignoring him, "I'll be able to just put in my earbuds and zone out, while, yes, I scrub a toilet or two."

My voice creeps up higher as I start to feel all of the distress I've been trying to keep buttoned up for so long. "No more namaste," I say, "And pretending like I'm Zen-"

Kadeem sits up straighter, his expression earnest. "But you're a good trainer, Ardal."

He tilts his head and a smirk starts to play on his lips. "And trust me," he says, "No one was going to your classes because they mistook you for a wise yogi. You're fun and cheerful -"

I stand up ramrod straight, my whole body stiffening. "I don't want to be 'fun' or 'cheerful,'" I spit, feeling the pain twist in my stomach as the words come out of my mouth.

The truth hits me like a freight train.

"I'm not that person anymore. I never was." I bite my lip and try to pull back the wave of emotion crashing into me.

Kadeem shakes his head, looking puzzled. "That's not true," he insists. "You're-"

"Then you don't know me at all," I say, cutting him off.

We stare at each other in silence.

"I know you," he says finally.

"You did." I meet his eyes. "Seven years ago." I shake my head. "Kadeem... that was one lifetime ago, five kids ago, a near death experience, and Erbao almost dying in front of my eyes - ago."

Pain flits across Kadeem's features and his lips part as if to speak, but then he clamps them shut again.

"I should go," I say softly.

Before I turn the door handle, Kadeem's voice stops me.

"Wait," he says, standing. He looks a Hugh-Grant kind of awkward, sort of stammery and unsure. Night and day from his normal.

"I do, really, have to talk to you... about things." He runs his hand anxiously through his hair. "Obviously, though, now's not the best time." He frowns before adding gently, "Can I come by tomorrow?"

I look down at my Keds, the leather and laces looking more beige than white. I need to wash them.

"Sure," I say.

My voice sounds dull, even to my own ears.

Without looking back, I leave his office.

I hardly register what's around me, nearly knocking into Dylan before I can exit the health club. He tries to talk to me, but I can't even make eye contact with him and rush past him.

Feeling dead inside, I walk out into the late afternoon sun.

I cross a Mom and Pop thrift store and pause to look at it before I climb inside my van.

It's October 1 on the calendar, but either a Texas transplant and/or an overly-enthused "Halloween person" has set out carved Jack O'Lanterns for display near the door.

They're oozing and melting in the stifling heat.

When I get home, my head's still a mess. I manage to put the kids to bed a little early - much to their annoyance.

I stand out on the porch for a while. The wind is picking up, stirring up some of the early fallen leaves, and rustling through the branches of the trees nearby.

A cold front, I hope. I'd settle for just hitting the lower 90s.

The temptation to transform into my wolf and go for a run to work out some of my angst is strong, but I can't leave the kids alone.

Stuck, I make my way back inside, curl up on the sofa, and put something stupid on the TV.

Oh, who am I kidding? It's my usual guilty pleasure.

"This is the final rose, tonight, Ladies."

I zone for a while after, until a knock at the front door breaks me out of my daze.

I let out a small groan, knowing instantly who it is without needing to look.

I yank the door open and my heart skips a beat.

A lean, fair-haired man with blue eyes is staring back at me, his bergamot scent filling my nose. His glasses are clipped over his shirt. His cheeks are flushed and there is an expression of profound relief over his face.

At once, I feel the same, overwhelming, thump of relief.

“Jack.”