Page 12 of Run Home

While he’s always had enough to get by in Valencia, especially now that I send money back to him, he could be living in total comfort with me in Kansas City. He wouldn’t have to worry about work or taking care of anyone. After all the sacrifices he made to get me where I am, he could finally personally enjoy the result.

Maybe he could be the fun abuelo spoiling his grandkids.

Cutting off the rampant thoughts, I wrap up our conversation. “I need to head to team training, but I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“Okay. Love you, mijo,” he says.

“Love you too, Papá.”

Chapter five

Sam

Loosening my clenched jaw, I blow out a slow breath, picturing the discomfort leaving my body along with the carbon dioxide.

“I think my calves are about to burst,” Alice gasps from the Pilates reformer next to mine. “Is that possible? Can muscles burst? I think I’m about to find out.”

Her dramatics are a welcome distraction from the fire in my own calves. We’ve been regular Pilates buddies for six years now, but muscles never outgrow the burn, apparently. Although the distraction is helpful, I aggressively shush her. Conversations during Pilates class will earn you a sharp look from the instructor and passive-aggressive glares from fellow class members.

After an excruciating round of core work and full-body stretches, class officially ends. As Alice and I wipe down our reformers with disinfectant, I ask her, “How was work today?” She works the morning shift at a local allergy-friendly bakery—advantageous, considering she has Celiac disease.

“Busy,” she replies. “We have several gluten-free graduation cakes on order for this weekend, so we’re working ahead on any prep work we can. Speaking of—do Danae and Griffin need an allergy-friendly wedding cake?”

Smiling, I shake my head. “No allergies. Even if your cakes are almost as good as gluten-full cakes.”

“I appreciate the completely false compliment,” she snickers. “It’s been so long since I’ve had gluten, though, maybe I’m misremembering how wonderful it is.”

“You’re not. It’s absolutely wonderful,” I tease, grinning broadly. Alice glares, but our eye contact is lost when women here for the next class hover next to our reformers. We speed up the disinfecting process.

“Did you find a solution for a backyard wedding in the summer?”

“Yes!” I exclaim as we walk to the lobby. “I think I found the perfect tent setup, and I’m going to tell them tonight when I’m hanging out with Griffin and Jason while Danae goes to book club.”

“When’s the wedding?”

“July seventeenth,” I say. “Peak hot season. But I think we can make it work. Griffin won’t mind paying the electric bill if it means Danae’s happy.”

We take a seat in lobby chairs to change out of our grip socks back into shoes. Alice hums. “Probably cheaper than renting a venue anyway.”

“Oooh, good selling point. I’ll be sure to add that to the pro list for Danae,” I say, snapping my fingers.

“Are you taking a plus-one to the wedding?” Alice asks. She attempts to be casual, but I hear her hopeful and nosy tone.

“Alice. Quit it,” I chasten. “Why are you suddenly so insistent I start dating?”

She shrugs as we gather our bags and walk to the door. “You’ve been so over the moon for Griffin and Danae. I want you to have that over-the-moon feeling for yourself too.”

Her observation pokes holes in the emotional wishing well I boarded up five years ago. The well that holds too many wished-upon coins. Coins drowning in buckets of tears shed over deferred hopes. I put on my sunglasses, unwilling to fall back down the well.

“I’m perfectly happy being happy for them,” I state, leading the way to the parking lot. Alice eyes me. “I’m not saying I’m opposed to my own happily-ever-after if it comes. But I’m not going to force it.”

I unlock my car as Alice sighs. “Creating a profile on a dating app wouldn’t be forcing anything. It’s just putting yourself out there.”

“No way,” I say, shaking my head with certainty. “I’m absolutely not getting on any apps. Unless I signed up under a fake name and photo, which wouldn’t exactly be an honest start to a relationship. So, no thanks. I’ll have to meet someone in real life if it’s going to happen.”

Pointing back at the studio, Alice says, “And exactly where are you going to meet this man? In the Pilates class filled with only women? At cosmetology school? Once you’re working in a salon cutting only women’s hair?”

Grimacing, I concede, “Okay, maybe it’s a flawed strategy.” When Alice gets a particularly smug smile, I add, “But that doesn’t mean I’m changing strategy. I don’t even want a strategy. Not right now. I need to get on my feet at a salon and get through Griffin’s wedding. Then, maybe I’ll reevaluate.”