Whew. I was a mess.
Dylan handed me tissues while I cried.
He drove me home. I felt weird, having told him, and awkward trying to explain why I hadn’t told Perry. We rode home in silence. Dylan’s face was set rigid in the silver light, and when he said goodnight, he barely looked at me.
I remembered the joke about the street corner. Would he still be my friend now? Would he tell Hester, or someone else at the church? Maybe they had rules about people like me getting married in the chapel.
The Monday after New Year, I woke up to the doorbell ringing. Fumbling for my phone, the time read seven o’clock. I lay there for a moment, hoping the caller would go away, but the bell rang again, followed by a sharp knock. I tumbled out of bed and crept over to the window, peeping out through a chink in the curtain. A black four by four had been parked behind my new car, but the person at the door stood too close to the house for me to see them.
After another ring, I pulled on a sweatshirt over my pyjamas and went to peep through the front window. A man, about my age, stood on the doorstep. He caught me looking, smiled and gave a salute.
‘Hi. You must be Faith,’ he said when I opened the door, his accent hailing from somewhere in the southern hemisphere.
I nodded, still too asleep to speak.
‘Anton. Your personal trainer. I’m guessing you’d forgotten your appointment?’
That would explain the shorts in January. I rubbed my face with one hand, trying to get my brain going. ‘No. I really think I would remember making an appointment with a personal trainer. Sorry.’
‘It was a gift card? From Mrs Upperton? For Christmas?’
Eugh. Now I remembered. I hadn’t even bothered to check if an actual appointment had been made, presuming it would be left up to me to arrange a session. What a ridiculous presumption, considering who the gift came from.
‘Um. She never told me an actual session had been booked.’
‘Riiiight.’ Anton frowned sympathetically, still managing to smile at the same time. He bounced up and down on his heels.‘Not to worry. You go on and trackie up and we’ll get going. The session’s two hours, so plenty of time to work off some of those mince pies.’
‘Actually, I think I might give it a miss. I haven’t slept all that great, and, well, you know how it is. Stuff to do, places to go.’
Anton leaned against the door frame and began stretching his leg muscles. ‘No can do, I’m afraid. I heard you got a wedding emergency. Too fat for your dress. And that was before the holidays. We’ve got serious work to do.’
He moved on to his arms, pulling them behind his head.
‘Okay, look. Come in for a minute and I’ll explain.’
‘I’d save your breath if I were you. You’re gonna need it. Trust me, I’ve heard every excuse in the book.’
I sighed, wondering what would happen if I just closed the door and went back to bed. ‘If you’re not going to go away, then please come in before the house gets any colder.’
He grinned and stepped inside, then began jogging on the spot in my hallway.
‘Come into the kitchen. I need a drink.’
‘Just water! No caffeine required to get pumping in one of my sessions.’
Ignoring him, I filled up the kettle and switched it on.
‘If I tell you something, will you keep it confidential?’
‘No worries. What happens in session stays in session.’
‘I don’t actually need a personal trainer. I have a physical job and I walk fifteen miles a week. Underneath this sweater, I am actually in okay shape. I lied to Larissa about not fitting into the wedding dress because I’d ripped it and it’s her dress and I didn’t want to upset her. So I really don’t want to waste your time and undergo fitness-related torture for two hours every week for no reason.’
‘Two times a week. And it’s been paid for. Be unethical not to coach the sessions. And time spent investing in your health is never wasted, in my book.’
I poured myself a coffee. ‘Are you sure you don’t want one?’
‘Got any oolong tea?’
