Page 12 of The Shape of You


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Rebecca sighed, resigned. “No. I have her number. I’ll call herand apologize, see if I can talk her into coming back.”

Sherry looked at her for a beat, then finally asked, “Was sheright?”

Rebecca found that she couldn’t meet Sherry’s eyes. Shame wasfunny like that. She didn’t like what Spencer had said, mostly because it wastrue. Thanks to her own baggage that had nothing at all to do with Spencer,she’d been unintentionally unprofessional, and she was not proud of it. “Yeah,she kind of was.”

“Kind of?”

“Not kind of. Was.”

“Yeah, you need to fix it, then. Leslie won’t be happy if we getbad reviews from her, and it’ll be worse if she mentions you by name.”

Rebecca hadn’t even had time to think about that possibility.Leslie Baker owned BodyFit and prided herself on her friendly staff. Badreviews made her get all twitchy, which was never good. Plus, Rebecca would notenjoy being called out for being a bitch, which was exactly how she’d beenacting. At the same time, the idea of eating a big slice of humble pie wasutterly unappetizing. Her face must have said so because Sherry gave ahumorless chuckle.

“You did this to yourself, babe.” With a gentle squeeze ofRebecca’s shoulder, she grabbed up her belongings. “See you Monday.”

Rebecca shook herself free of her frozen state, knowing she’d leftPhil too long. With renewed vigor, she dug around and found her missingnotebook, then headed back downstairs. Phil was awesome and fun to work withand she always enjoyed their hour-long personal training sessions, but tonight,she was preoccupied.

Tonight, her mind was filled with images of a pretty blonde who nolonger held the title of weak and passive. Instead, she was now kind of tough.Stronger than originally thought. Assertive. A little bit of a badass. Andwrapped around Rebecca’s embarrassment and irritation with herself, there wasintrigue. Spencer Thompson had shifted Rebecca’s perception of her in a matterof thirty seconds.

Impressive.

She turned back to Phil, watching his form as he did squats. “Godown a little farther on that.”

“That’s what she said,” Phil ground out through clenched teeth,making Rebecca laugh. But only for a moment, and then she was back to thinkingabout Spencer and how she really owed the woman an apology.

I need tofix this.

Chapter Five

God, it was hot.

Spencer didn’t love the heat but also didn’t complain about it theway Marti did. To Spencer, complaining was useless. It wasn’t going to changeanything, so why bother fretting over something you couldn’t control? But Martididn’t see it that way and whined incessantly about the humidity, despite thefact that her house had central air.

They’d spent all day together yesterday, and Spencer didn’t liketo admit that she often looked forward to time on her own. It had been a niceday. Very pleasant. They’d done a little shopping, had lunch in a lovely newcafé downtown (though sat inside rather than “sweat like farm animals,” asMarti had so eloquently put it, at an outside table for two), then watched afew episodes ofScandalon Netflix before adjourning to the bedroom, where Marti went to sleepinstantly and Spencer had lain awake for another ninety minutes.

A typical Saturday for them, and now Spencer had some time on herown while she ran the open house for Jennifer. She found the correct place—theFor Sale sign was a dead giveaway—and pulled into the driveway. Theneighborhood was adorable, all small bungalows and one-story homes that werewell kept and tidy. She expected a sizeable turnout today. Jennifer would havea sale on her hands in no time.

Leaving the air-conditioning of her car and stepping into the heatof that Sunday afternoon was jarring. Spencer took a moment just to breathe,the air feeling thick and heavy, like she was breathing through cheesecloth.She started to sweat almost immediately, so she popped her trunk and hauled outher signs as quickly as she could. The house had central air and she wanted toget inside, make sure it was comfortable for visitors.

She’d left a sign at the corner of the street to help people findthe open house. Now she walked toward the street to the section of grassbetween the sidewalk and the road and propped a sign there. Then she took thesmaller rectangular placard that readOpenHouse 2–4and slid it onto the top of the For Sale sign. A nod ofapproval and she went back to her car and bent in to grab her bag. In it waspaperwork, sell sheets detailing the house’s features, and Jennifer’s businesscards. She pulled it out, slammed the car door, and heard a familiar voice.

“Spencer? I thought that was you.”

Spencer turned to meet the blue-eyed gaze of Rebecca McCall.

Fudging sonof a barn cat!Not somebody she expected to simply run into on aSunday afternoon. There was a beat of hesitation while Spencer shook off thefeeling of her worlds colliding. “Rebecca. Hi.” Rebecca wore a pair of blackshorts, a green racer-back tank that left her shoulders visible, and flip-flops.“What are you doing here?”

Rebecca reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear, then gazedoff somewhere past Spencer. With a jerk of her thumb over her shoulder, shesaid, “I live next door.”

Spencer shifted her gaze to take in the house behind her. It wassmall and neat, slate gray siding with bright white trim. Two pots of beautifulpink impatiens stood on either side of the front steps. A white Honda Accordwas parked in the driveway. “Oh,” Spencer said, as she wasn’t sure what else tooffer, especially given how they’d parted on Friday. Honestly, Spencer hadexpected never to see Rebecca McCall again, and that was okay with her.

“Listen, I know you’re busy, but…” Rebecca wet her lips, and itoccurred to Spencer that maybe she was battling nerves. “I don’t know if yougot my voicemail message…” She let her voice trail off, and Spencer realizedshe, typically, hadn’t checked her voicemail in a couple days. Mostly becausenobody ever left her voicemails.

“You left me a voicemail message?”

“I did. Yesterday.”

“Do people still do that?” The question slipped out before Spencerhad time to think about it, and she watched as Rebecca looked away, her facetinting pink. She’d embarrassed her, which shouldn’t have bothered her, butdid. She softened her tone. “No, I haven’t listened to it yet. I’m sorry.”