“Let’s go to the treadmills.” I nudge Rie. “Stop staring,” I tell her under my breath.
“What? I thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head he was straining so hard.”
“Gross.” She follows me over to the empty treadmills.
“Do I really need to look at myself when I run?” Rie points to the mirrors that line the walls in front of the treadmills. She gives them the look of death. I only pull on my leggings more because I can clearly see how much they don’t fit right now.
“Let’s just do this. We’re already here. We can find another gym next time.” I push the start button on the treadmill.
“Next time?!” Rie shouts. I can see in the mirror everyone turn to look our way again. I reach over and hit the start button on her machine.
“Yes, next time.”
She huffs but starts to walk because she has no choice. “What does it even matter? You’re going to get knocked up again,” she mumbles. “Stupid treadmill.” I don’t really think she’s talking to me. I know she’s right. I’ve taken some of the baby weight off already. Breastfeeding has been helping. At least I’m told it does. I only have another ten pounds to go. I pick up the speed a little more. My lungs start to burn and I ponder that I should just buy new pants instead of doing this. It doesn’t help that I can see in the mirror and I swear everyone is looking this way at the two of us. Rie is walking at the slowest speed possible and looking like someone kicked her puppy. Or better yet, stole her milkshake.
“Why are they all staring at us?” I finally ask.
“You seen our asses? They’re killer. Can’t blame them.” Rie smirks. She couldn’t care less if they all stare at us. She has no fucks to give. Me, I feel fidgety. I go to hit the stop button but a giant hand beats me to it. A hand I know very well. How had I not seen my giant husband coming in one of the mirrors?
“He looks mad,” Rie says as I look up into my husband’s handsome face, who does indeed look mad. No, he’s more than mad. He’s pissed. I pull my eyes from him when I hear two girls giggle. I glance over my shoulder to see the girls from the front desk standing a few feet back from my treadmill staring dreamily at Blaze. I roll my eyes. There are dozens of other men in the place. Why are they giving him heart eyes and why are they over here to begin with?
“I found my wife,” he tells the girls without looking at them. I watch their faces drop in disappointment. I want to smart off that of course he’s married. Can’t they see the ring? I bite my tongue because it’s petty. I can’t blame women for wanting Blaze. Look at the man. Even angry, I still want to climb him. Others often don’t have that same feeling. When Blaze gets angry, everyone moves out of the way. He can go from calm to pissed in the flip of a switch when it comes to me or our family. Plus, I know my husband only has eyes for me. I’d bet my life if I asked what color hair those two girls each had he’d have no idea. With me, though, he could tell you where every freckle is on my body.
“You said you were going to work out.” Blaze stares down at me.
“We are,” Rie chirps to poke Blaze. I want to poke her and tell her what she’s doing over there isn’t working out.
“You made it sound like you went downstairs to our gym.” He cocks an eyebrow at me. I kind of did, but it wasn’t a lie. I said I was going to work out with Rie. It just wasn’t at our gym.
“Well, we wanted to try something new.”
“I don’t like new things,” Rie chimes in again. I give her a hard look. “I don’t.” She hits the stop button on her machine.
“There is a reason I don’t let you leave the house in those pants.” Blaze ignores her. I look down at my yoga pants.
“My muffin top isn’t sexy!” I tell him for the millionth time.
“Fuck yes it is.” He leans down. “But that’s not the reason.” I can feel his warm breath on my lips. “You can see through them in the bright light.” My face heats. No. That can’t be true.
“Why don’t you have underwear on?” I pull back to look at Rie, who jumps off her treadmill to stand behind me, checking out if what Blaze is saying is true.
“Oh my God.” I never wear panties with these pants. It’s just a habit, probably because Blaze is right—I only wore them at home.