907 For Keeps Way (Cherry Falls)

One

Kaylee

“Hello? Kaylee? Are you there?”

I take a bite of my Snickers bar and stare straight ahead. “I’m here.” Unfortunately.

“I wasn’t sure if the line disconnected or what.”

“Nope. I’m sitting here and listening to you.”

My best friend, Haley Morgan, pauses. She’s curious—suspicious, even. And rightfully so.

I didn’t tell her what I was doing today, mostly because I was afraid I’d cancel. Why? I know me. My intentions are good, and I’m a firm believer in taking matters into your own hands, being responsible for yourself—only you can change your life and all that bullshit. But the self-help cheerleader inside me dies when it’s time to take action.

Like right now. When I’m sitting in front of Cherry Falls Fitness with a personal training appointment in a few minutes.

Where’s the Go, team, go! now?

“Kaylee—where is here, exactly?” Haley asks.

I take another bite of my candy bar, a glob of caramel dangling from the end and hitting me on the chin. It smears when I try to wipe it off.

Great. I’ll be like, “Hi, I’m Kaylee! Here to get fit! Just ignore the sugar smeared across my cheek. It was a piece of my Last Supper.”

I just won’t mention that the Last Supper—basically everything delicious in my pantry—has been in effect since I woke up to a confirmation email from Cherry Falls Fitness the morning after I must’ve consumed too much wine and shed too many tears over the state of my life. Even considering the empty bottle of wine at my side that morning, how did I think that getting in shape was going to be the salve to my wounds?

Stupid, stupid me.

“I am sitting outside of Cherry Falls Fitness,” I say slowly, eyeing the building like it’s a suspect in the theft of my dignity. Because it damn well might be.

“Why? Is Anna taking classes or something?”

I roll my eyes. “No. I am not here to pick up my fifteen-year-old daughter.”

“Then did you break down? If you don’t get your stupid oil changed, Kaylee, I’m going to ask Grayson to—”

“I have a personal training session, okay?”

She gasps, clearly unprepared for the little truth bomb that blurted out of my mouth. Honestly, though—I wasn’t prepared for it either.

My stomach wiggles, dealing with the adrenaline that hit my veins as I admitted my whereabouts out loud. No matter how many times I’ve watched videos saying that everyone belongs in a gym, I don’t feel it. I feel like I don’t belong anywhere near a weight.

“May I ask how this happened and why you didn’t tell me?” Haley asks. “This feels like one of those monumental life decisions, and as your resident best friend, I’m a little irritated that I’m finding out like this.”

“You’re right. I should leave. I shouldn’t have—”

“Oh, no.” She laughs. “You’re walking your butt in there if I have to drive over there and escort you inside.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“Yes, you do.”

Do I, though?

The outside of the fitness center looks different from the parking lot. It’s bigger. Imposing. There’s an element of danger when you look at it from this vantage point. When I’ve glanced at it from across the street, it’s less scary. Granted, I usually have a pizza or a slice of cherry pie in my hand then. That always makes things seem more manageable.

I take the last bite of the Snickers and crumple the wrapper in my hand.

“What was that?” Haley asks.

Busted.

“That was a candy wrapper, wasn’t it?” She laughs. “Only you, Kaylee. Only you.”

“Excuse me,” I say, trying not to laugh too. “There’s protein in that thing. And energy. And … and it’s basically a workout food.”

“It’s a candy bar.”

I make a face. “It’s all how you look at it. Besides, I’m about to work out for an hour. I’ll walk out of there with the body of Adriana Lima. I can spare a candy bar.”

“I’m not saying a word. I think you’re gorgeous just the way you are.”

“You have to. You’re my best … and only friend, really. You’d be a shitty one if you agreed with me.” I pull down my visor and inspect my reflection in the mirror. “Also, thanks.”

“Well, I mean it. You’re a hottie, Kay.”

“Do you want a free pizza for dinner?” I wipe at the caramel on my face. “I’ll have someone bring you one later.”

She laughs. “I’ll never turn down pizza.”

I flip the visor back up and take a deep breath. Courage mustered, I look at the gym again. My stomach twists tighter.

How did I get to this point?

The question rolls around my head daily. It’s loaded, and I generally don’t bother to think about it too much because all it does is make me sad. And frustrated. And angry.

I can’t pinpoint the moment that I lost control. One moment, I was a young twentysomething with a husband I adored, a Pinterest-worthy home, and a social calendar full of yoga classes, wine tastings, and concerts. The next, I looked up to see my husband walking out with his bags packed, a mouthy teenage daughter, and an extra fifty pounds. And the only thing I wanted to keep was the mouthy daughter.