Chapter 8
I need to make more time for myself. I’m going to run myself to the ground if I don’t.
I walk into the Pilates studio, setting my stuff down and picking a reformer. I used to do Pilates three to four times a week. But lately I’ve been slacking on it, something I shouldn’t do. It’s always brought me so much peace and energy to start the day off.
“Hey girl, I haven’t seen you in a while,” Ashley, the owner of the studio, says.
I kick my shoes off. “I know I’ve been busy.”
She comes closer to me. “Are you still baking?”
“Yup. All day. Every day.” I chuckle.
“Good for you. I need to put in an order for your sourdough bread. It’s amazing,” she says with a grin.
“Thank you,” I say with my heart full. It makes me happy to hear that people enjoy my bread.
She turns around to the class. “We’re going to start in a couple of minutes” she yells.
“Everyone, feet in straps.” I lie down on the reformer, grabbing the straps, and the spring gives me resistance. I guide my movements as I lift and lower my legs, feeling the stretch as we warm up.
Ashley explains the core workout we’re going to do and my body shifts in the movements, pushing me to engage my core.
The spring resistance and my own body weight always provide me with a challenge. I used to only lift weights before and got burned out with that. This forces me to use my muscles in ways I never have before.
With every class, my body becomes stronger and more aligned. The focused concentration helps clear my mind. The class leaves me feeling both energized and centered. It almost feels like meditation, in a way.
As I step outside after class, the crisp air cools the warmth of my body. I slide into my car and grab my Bath and Body Works French Lavender hand sanitizer and rub it into my hands.
One bad habit of mine is going to buy coffee when I have coffee at home.
I even have a Breville espresso machine, so I could make my own espresso at home.
But for some reason, every time I’m out, I need to stop and get a coffee.
Zayn gets so annoyed with me because he was the one that bought me the espresso machine so I would stop buying coffee.
I pull up onto the left side of Dutch Bro’s drive-through since it has the least number of cars.
I turn my Spotify song to Innerbloom by RUFUS DU SOL.
They are my and Zayn’s favorite. We listen to them all the time.
Their music is so unique, like a blend of house and electronic music, and for me, I feel a sense of meditation vibes with it.
They always relax me and put me in a good mood, especially this Innerbloom song.
The employee walks toward my car. I roll down my window with a grin. “Hi.”
“Hi, what can I get for you?”
“Can I get a small, iced breve? No flavoring,” I say. My order is boring, but I hate when the sugar overpowers the taste of the espresso.
I slide my card through the machine and stop mid-slide. “Oh, wait.” I say with a sheepish smile. “I needed one more thing.”
He looks over my payment. “It doesn’t look like your payment went through. What can I add?”
“Can you add a caramelized freeze?”
He types it onto his pad; I swipe my card once more and pull forward.
It’s hard to come here on days I’m not in the mood to chat because even though all the workers are very nice, they’re also very chatty.
I get to the window and turn my music down a little.
“Hey how are you doing?” the employee asks.
“I’m good. How are you?”
“I’m fabulous. Do you want straws?”
I nod. “Yes. Please.”
She hands me two straws. “Those nails are gorgeous. Right in time for summer,” she says.
I glance at my short acrylic pink nails because now, since I bake a lot, I don’t wear long nails anymore. “Thanks.”
“Here are your drinks.” She hands me one; I place it in one of my cup holders and then she hands me the other. “Have a good day.”
“Thank you. You, too.”
I drive off as I take a sip of my drink, moaning as the espresso hits my taste buds. Today is a slow day for me. When I have those, I try to go to lunch with Zayn, but since I’m already out, I decide to stop by, say hi, and drop him off a coffee.
As I pull up into The Garage, the smell of oil invades my nostrils since I have my window down.
The hum of tools echoes through the garage.
I put my car in park and look around, not seeing Zay’s black truck.
I roll my eyes because it’s probably somewhere in the back being worked on.
That man works on his truck constantly, and it seems to never be done.
Men.
I glance around all the bays, looking for Zay. “Hey Violet,” one of his coworkers, Kyle, says with a wave.
“Hi,” I say with a wave with my free hand. I step closer to him as he makes his way toward me. “Where is Zayn?”
He runs his hands through his hair. “He said he had a few errands to run.”
I squint my eyes in confusion. “Hmm,” I say, pulling my phone from my pocket. “I’ll call him. I wanted to give him this.” I raise the coffee.
He nods and returns to the car he was working on.
My phone rings through my ear repeatedly until it goes to voicemail. I shift my body toward the road as if I’m going to see him. I step closer to the bay. “Hey, Kyle?”
He pops his head up from the front of the car. “Yeah.”
“Did he say when he would be back?”
He comes around the car with a towel in hand, wiping off the oil. “Nah. He just said he’d be back.”
I nod, letting out a sigh. I was hoping to say hi. He says he loves when I surprise him at work. I’ve enjoyed it too.
Water runs down my hand as drops of liquid slide down the cup. The coffee is melting, and it’s not going to stay good. “Well, do you want this?” I raise the cup.
“Sure.” He says, reaching out his black, oily hand and taking the coffee from me. “I could always use more caffeine.”
I grin slightly. “At least it won’t go to waste.”
“Thanks.”
I nod softly. “I’m going to head out. Can you let him know I stopped by?”
“Will do,” he says, stepping away from me. “Thanks again.” He raises the coffee up.
I nod again, get in my car, and head out.
I center myself in work, not even thinking about Zayn not calling me back from my call earlier. Until he comes stomping into the house. “Babe. I’m home,” he yells.
“In the kitchen,” I say and continue washing the dishes.
He comes around me and kisses me on the temple. The smell of oil invades my nostrils, again. “Hey.”
He leans his hip against the counter. “Hey.”
“How was work?” I ask, placing a mixing bowl into the dishwasher.
He crosses his arms. “Good. How was your day?”
I narrow my eyes at him. Did Kyle not tell him I stopped by? Awkward silence fills the air. “I stopped by earlier and you weren’t there.”
He stiffens against the counter. “Oh yeah. Kyle told me.”
I search his gaze. “What errands did you have to run?”
He looks down and then back up at me. “I had lunch with an old friend.”
“Oh, really.” I grab another dirty mixing bowl to wash. “At ten in the morning?” I knit my brows together.
His head tilts. “No, it was noon.”
“I came over around ten after my Pilates class.”
He takes a few steps back. “No, I swear it was noon.”
I shake my head. “It was ten. And you weren’t there.”
He runs his hands down his chin. “I guess I had the time wrong.”
“So what friend was it?”
He shrugs his shoulders. “Someone that used to work with me.”
“Who?” I question, because all those guys have been working there since Zay started, and that was back in high school. I know all of them now.
“You don’t know him,” he says quickly.
I tilt my head in confusion. “I know everyone there.”
“Well, you never met this guy,” he says, frustrated.
“Okay, what’s with the attitude? I’m only asking.”
He raises his shoulders. “I feel like I’m being accused of something.”
“What?” I exclaim, setting the cloth down. “How so?”
He curls his lips; his jaw is hard set. “Asking all these questions.”
I’m confused by his reaction and harsh voice. Why is he freaking out? My mind runs through some possibilities, but nothing matches up. I search his face for answers, but all I see is anger. Did I say something wrong? Is there more to this than he is letting on?
“There is no reason for you to act like this toward, me,” I say, crossing my arms in frustration because now I’m a little upset.
“Then don’t accuse me of something. I haven’t done anything,” he spits out.
“I’m not,” I say, raising my voice a little higher. I’m hardly the type to accuse anyone of anything—I always try to see the good in people. So his accusations take me by surprise. He groans, turns his back to me, and stomps off to the other room.
What the fuck was that? Did he have a bad day and take it out on me? He’s done it before. We all do this, whether we recognize it or not. I throw whatever it was out of my mind because I had a good day today and he’s not going to ruin my night with his bad attitude.