It was just the first time that somebody else had forced her to doso.
* * *
Six a.m. on a Saturday was early, but if you’d been awake for mostof the night, as Spencer had, it was actually late. By four, she’d given uptrying to get anything more than quick dozes in and had hauled herself out ofbed. When she glanced back at Marti’s deeply sleeping—and still snoring—form,she briefly toyed with poking her awake. Her snuffling and snorting soundshadn’t helped Spencer to drift off. But the idea of having to maintain morningconversation with her was more than Spencer could bear, so she snuck into thebathroom and put on her workout clothes.
She had decided early on that those tight-fitting workout pantswere made to shame people like her. Women who weren’t model-thin, who weren’tlean and muscular and curved in all the right places. That’s why she’d startedout in loose-fitting sweats. But as she’d attended more classes and had startedto feel herself getting stronger, Spencer didn’t mind those pants so much. Theystill showed many more of her imperfections than she’d like, but they alsoshowed her progress. So she fought her way into them, donned a sports bra andher racer-back lime green tank, and headed for the gym.
She was going to make this spin class her bitch.
The Saturday morning crowd at BodyFit was a different mix thanduring the week. When Spencer came to the bride class on weeknights, the crowdseemed mostly made up of men and women coming right from work. The locker roomswere bustling and the hum of conversation was steady. On the weekends, though,the vibe was different. Mostly women, mostly without their kids (the on-siteday care room was nearly empty), mostly quiet. Friendly smiles and gentlehellos drifted around the locker room, but there was little conversation andthe volume was kept at a minimum.
Spin class was almost full. By the time Spencer picked her bike,adjusted the seat and the handlebars to fit her, clipped her feet onto thepedals, and began her warm-up, there were only four bikes left without riders.A quick glance around the room told her the class was mostly women and that alot of them knew each other. Sherry wasn’t the instructor on Saturdays. Thiswas Amanda. She was tall, lean, annoyingly cheerful, and Spencer was prettysure she would kick their collective ass.
Good.
She needed an ass kicking.
One of the best things about spin class, she’d decided as Amandaturned up the pumping music and got them moving, was that she needed to focus.She couldn’t let her mind wander because Amanda had her concentrating not onlyon not falling off the bike, but on shifting gears. Up and down, up and down,standing, sitting, standing, sitting. Spencer had no choice but to payattention, follow directions, and—her favorite—track the counter that told herhow many calories she’d burned.
There was no time for dwelling on anything else.
Forty-five minutes later, Spencer was pretty sure she was dying.Which was par for the course and meant spin class was going exactly as planned.She stood and pumped her legs as Amanda shouted for her not to drop her ass,not to give up on this hill, to keep pushing, pushing, pushing! Sweat rolleddown the center of Spencer’s back, dripped from her temples, covered her chest.Her lungs heaved, her quads burned, and still she pushed, pedaled, sprinted,doing her best to outrun those damn demons that refused to leave her alone.
When she finally hit the cool-down phase, Spencer sat back on thebike, hands on her hips, and pedaled easily, the sense of accomplishmentwashing over her. This. This was why she continued to go to class. This feelingright here? This pride? This feeling of triumph? It’s what kept her going. Notto mention that her legs and heart felt stronger.
Back in the locker room, Spencer felt infinitely better. Thingsstill weighed on her, of course, but that rush of endorphins definitely didwhat it was supposed to, and she felt at least a tiny bit lighter. What madeher feel even lighter still was the text on her phone from Lucy.
Futuremom-in-law driving me nuts. Time for coffee? Lunch? Anything? Please? Save me.
With a grin, Spencer texted her back, and half an hour later, theysat at a little café halfway between the gym and Lucy’s place. Spencer dug intoher plate of scrambled eggs, suddenly famished.
“You didn’t kill her, did you?” she asked Lucy.
“Who? Ethan’s mom? No.” Lucy grinned. “She’s really very nice.She’s just…a bit on the exuberant side when it comes to the wedding. I thinkshe’s bummed she’s the mother of the groom and not of the bride because shereally wants to be a part of all of it, and I can almost see her forcingherself not to be.”
“Aww, that’s kind of sweet.”
“It is. But also, exhausting.” Lucy sipped her coffee and eyedSpencer’s breakfast.
“Help yourself,” Spencer told her, pointing to the plate with herfork. “I won’t eat it all. But spin class makes me so hungry.”
“I’m so impressed with your drive.” Lucy’s face lit up, her pridein Spencer evident.
Spencer gave a half shrug. “Thanks.”
“You really enjoy it, huh?”
“What? God, no. I hate it. Every second of it. It’s awful. But Ilike the way I feel when it’s over.”
“Fair enough.” Lucy snagged a slice of Spencer’s toast. “Was Rebeccathere?”
Spencer shook her head, an odd mix of relief and disappointmentaround her answer swirling through her. “No, I didn’t see her. I’m not sure sheworks on the weekends.”
“She was in the parking lot yesterday when I left talking to somewoman with a Lexus.”
“Yeah, that was Marti.”
“Your Marti?”
