Chapter 5 – Lexi
five
Lexi
“And give me eight,” Chelsea instructs as I hold myself up on my elbows with my hands together, pushing the machine out and into a plank, and then piking back up.
“Seven,” she counts down the set, and by the time I get to one, my whole core is shaking.
“And we’re done,” she says. “Let’s start the cooldown. ”
“Finally,” I pant out and get off the reformer, grabbing my bottle of water before lying on my back and stretching out my legs. I close my eyes, following her instructions.
“And we are done,” she repeats. I open my eyes and take a deep inhale. “You killed it today.” I look over at her as she packs up her stuff. “I pushed you harder than I normally do and I thought you would give in.”
“No pain, no glory.” I roll to my side and get up, walking over to my shelf and grabbing the disinfecting spray. “Thank you so much for coming.”
“Of course.” She smiles at me. “I’m sorry it was so early, but I have to teach at six.”
“I’ll take whatever time you’ve got,” I tell her. “Let me know if you are available tonight also. I have a fundraiser coming up, and I need the help.”
She laughs at me. “The help for what?” She grabs her bag. “You’ve never been in this type of shape before.”
“We could maybe work on my arms,” I suggest to her, thinking of how Trent wanted me to cover them up a few weeks ago, “and my shoulders. The dress I bought is a one-shoulder gown, and I could use the help making these spaghetti arms look toned.”
She looks at me as we walk to the front door. “You are crazy.” She laughs. “I’ll look at my schedule and let you know. If not, I’ll see you again tomorrow at four thirty.”
“Amazing. I’m going to do another workout at eleven,” I tell her. “One of the taped ones you did for me.”
“You are going to have a better ass than I have,” she jokes, opening the front door. “You could probably teach a class if you wanted.”
I laugh politely as I hold the front door open, knowing Trent would never let me have a job, especially one as a fitness instructor. “Drive safe, Chelsea.” I watch her walk out and only start to close the door when I see her car driving away.
I wait an extra second, seeing headlights turn into the driveway.
Then I hear a truck door closing before I see him walking around to the front of the house.
His white shirt is open at the collar and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, with his suit jacket in his hand.
“What the fuck are you doing up at this time?” He moves into the door.
“Chelsea could only come and teach me at four thirty,” I inform him. “Are you just getting home?”
“No.” He scoffs at me, kissing my cheek.
“I got called in for an emergency surgery.” He walks into the house, not bothering to kick off his shoes at the front door.
As he makes his way toward the kitchen, he tosses his jacket on one of the sitting chairs in the family room that no one ever uses, because it’s the most uncomfortable furniture in the house.
No, that’s a lie. The sitting area behind the fireplace is the most uncomfortable.
“Are you going back to bed?” I ask him as he opens the fridge and grabs a bottle of his water.
“No, I have a tee time at six thirty. So I’m going to play a round and then head back to the hospital.” I nod at him. “What do you have planned for the day?”
“I have a final fitting for my gown this afternoon,” I tell him, smiling. “I love the dress.”
“You didn’t tell me you got a dress.” He puts the bottle of water down on the island. “You didn’t even show me a picture.”
“I’m pretty sure I did.” I try to remember if I did or not. “It’s a blush-pink color.”
“You really think that is a good color for you?” he asks me as I pull up the picture on my phone. “You are a little pale and it’ll drag you down.”
“I don’t think so,” I reply, handing him the phone to look at the photo of me wearing the dress. It’s a blush pink that is off one shoulder, then it’s ruched together at the chest. A gold-and-silver beaded belt ties at the waist and it flows straight to the floor.
“Do you think this style is good for you?” He looks up at me, handing me back the phone. “What other dresses did you try on?”
“This one.” I pull up the picture of me with a darker pink, long-sleeved chiffon gown.
The neckline scoops down a bit, but the whole top has light-purple crystals all along the front, and the sleeves go just past my stomach and then trail off.
I don’t mention to him that the whole back of this dress is open.
“Now this,” he starts, “this is the dress that screams class and head of the committee.” He smiles. “Don’t you think?”
“I guess so.” I grab the phone from him. “It’s more expensive than the other one.” I look down at the phone, swiping through the two pictures.
“That right there should have been your first clue, but you choose the one you want to choose. I’m just giving you my opinion.”
“Okay, I’ll call and make the changes today.”
“That’s my girl,” he praises. “I’m going to go shower and get dressed.”
“Okay.” I watch his back walking to his side of the house. “Don’t forget your files,” I mention and he laughs, ignoring my comment.
Last week he came into my meeting and forced me to go home to collect his files that were here, except they weren’t, they were with him the whole time.
He said it was a slight oversight, but I knew better.
He wanted to make sure everyone knew he was my husband and his job was more important than mine. And by everyone, he meant Kirby.
He comes out of his bathroom thirty minutes later, while I’m sitting down and having two poached eggs on a bed of spinach. “I have clothes that need to be dropped off at the dry cleaners,” he states, “and I need you to make sure my tux is ready for your little fundraiser thing.”
“Tux is ready, I checked last week,” I tell him.
“And I’ll drop off the clothes when I go out to my meeting today.
” I don’t bother telling him it’s me going to a dance studio to make sure the bachelors are there and look proper.
That would just upset him or make him find something for me to do so I couldn’t go to that.
“I can’t wait for this fundraiser to be finished,” he remarks, annoyed. “It’s taking a lot of your time.”
“It’s good for the hospital,” I remind him, “and it’ll make you look good too if it’s as successful as I think it’ll be.”
“Always thinking about me.” He smiles at me. “Why don’t we go out for dinner tonight?”
“I’d love that. Anywhere special I can book?” I ask him.
“I’m golfing with a couple of people today, so let me ask them and I’ll text you later.”
“Sounds good,” I tell him, taking a bite of my eggs. “Have a good round.”
He nods as he walks out of the house. I finish eating and clean up the kitchen, even though I have a cleaning crew come into the house every two days. It’s a bit extreme, but Trent refuses to see one speck of dust anywhere.
I walk back into my gym and decide to do a yoga workout and then another Pilates workout.
I shower and get dressed in white capri pants that are tight on my hips, but then flow loosely all the way down, pleated in the front from the iron.
I grab the dark-blue, sleeveless silk shirt with the ruffles around the shoulders and then opt to wearing my hair down and not tied back.
I snatch a pair of nude platform wedges with an open toe and tie around the ankle.
I walk into Trent’s room, expecting to see the bed unmade but it looks like it hasn’t been slept in.
I walk over to the side of the bed where he usually leaves papers that he accumulated in his pockets during the day, finding it empty.
I turn my head to the side and see if he has his sleep pants tossed on the chair and find those aren’t even there.
The knot in my stomach forms as I walk to his walk-in closet and see a pile of clothes on the floor, not on the chair like I asked him to put them, or in the bag that is hanging on the hanger.
I grab the bag and start putting the clothes in it.
I spot his white shirt with a brown mark on the collar.
I rub it and it looks like it’s foundation, I shake my head and put the shirt in the bag.
Anger fills my body and I pull the shirt out of the bag and place it on the chair where he dumps his clothes, with the mark on the collar showing.
I know he’s going to blame me again for it.
It’s always my makeup that dirties his clothes, except I stopped wearing foundation when the summer season started since it’s just too hot for it.
I put the bag in the trunk of my car, heading straight to the dry cleaner before driving over to the dance hall.
I park my car in the parking lot next to a charcoal Land Rover, a car I wanted but was told it was too big and bulky for me.
I slip my phone in my purse as I make my way to the door, pulling it open and seeing the room empty with only one person there, Kirby.
He’s standing in the middle of the room, wearing another pair of blue jeans with a white T-shirt.
With his tattoos on full display, his arms look tanned and golden.
His hair looks like he walked out of the shower and just ran his hand through it.
His head turns toward the door and his blue eyes find mine.
“Am I late or am I early?” he asks me and I look at the time on my watch, three steps into the room.
“You are right on time,” I answer, looking around. “Did Darryl send out the invite to all the guys?” I pull up his name on my phone. “He is the liaison between us and you guys.”
“I’m the new liaison,” he states and I take a step back. “He says he’s busy training or something, so I took it over.”
“Oh.” I try to hide my shock. “No one told me.”
“It happened in the meeting that your husband interrupted,” he fills me in, “when you had to run home.” I swallow, trying not to let that dig get to me, but also knowing that I need to clear the air somewhat from what he heard me say.
“Kirby,” I say his name, “I want to apologize for what you overheard.” His eyes stare into mine as my heart hammers in my chest and I try to calm it down.
“It’s fine, Lexi,” he says. “It wouldn’t be the first time someone thought that of me. Won’t be the last.”
“They would be wrong,” I quickly add in. “We should never judge a book by its cover. We never know what the other person is going through.”
“I guess we don’t,” he says and all I can do is nod at him, not sure what to say, when the back door opens and the dance instructor comes into the room.
“The beauty has arrived,” he tells me, coming to me, putting his glasses on top of his head, and kissing me on both cheeks. “How are you, darling?”
“I’m good, David.” I smile at him. “How are you doing? How is Ivan doing?” I mention his husband.
“He’s probably at home in his garden.” He rolls his eyes.
“Who do we have here?” he asks, looking over at Kirby.
“A man with muscle.” He folds one arm across his front and puts the other hand to his face, his finger on his chin.
“So big and buff.” I can’t help but throw my head back and laugh when Kirby just smirks at him.
“I’m going to have fun watching you wiggle those hips. ”
“I look forward to showing you that these hips don’t wiggle,” Kirby retorts as David turns his head to the side and shrugs one shoulder. “They have never wiggled in their life.”
“Well, prepare to be fascinated,” David tells him and then stops talking when the back door opens and five of his female dancers come into the room, while the front door opens and the guys all come trickling in.
“Don’t you dare leave my side,” I hear Kirby say in my ear.
“Aww, what’s the matter, Kirby?” I surprise myself by teasing him with the biggest smile on my face. “Afraid of what your hips can do? I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
His eyes are light and he just smiles at me. “Are you going to dance?” he asks me and I shake my head.
“Dancing and I don’t go hand in hand, sadly,” I admit to him, “and it’s not for the lack of trying. I’ve watched almost every season of Dancing with the Stars and each time I think I can do it, I can’t.” I shrug.
“I find that very hard to believe,” he counters, putting his phone in his back pocket. “You seem to excel in everything you do.”
“Well, I’m here to say it’s just an illusion.” I fold my arms over my chest.
“I don’t know about that.” He looks around, his eyes dancing, knowing that his next words are going to make me do something I don’t want to do. “I dare you to prove me wrong.”