Starting Now (Blossom Street #9)(12)

“I’m tired already,” Robin complained as they reached the main floor for their turn on the treadmills.

Libby remembered how sore and out of shape she’d felt after her first week, but said nothing. No need to discourage Robin before she got started.

Libby stepped onto her machine, set the program, and started walking. Her pace the first few minutes was slow and easy, working up to a fast clip, gradually increasing the angle. The instructor set up Robin’s machine and left after a few encouraging words.

“This isn’t so bad,” Robin said as she started walking.

Libby smiled, knowing what was coming. “I’m glad you decided to join me.”

Robin glanced her way and muttered, “Fat.”

Libby laughed. She was glad Robin had followed through. It would have required an act of Congress to tear Libby away from the office for something as trivial as exercise.

“This … will help me to … lose weight … right?” Robin already sounded winded and she wasn’t five minutes into the routine.

“Yeah. I’m down another pound.” Again, it would have been less painful to melt the weight off with a blowtorch, but she wasn’t telling Robin that. Her friend was about to discover that for herself. Still, she wondered why it’d been so easy to convince Robin to work out with her. “What made you decide to do it?” Libby’s pace had increased and she worked her arms at her sides.

“What?” Robin gasped.

“Join the gym.”

“Oh … I don’t know.”

Libby frowned. She knew Robin, or thought she did. The two of them were cut from the same cloth. Robin didn’t do anything without a reason, without knowing the end result. Then it hit her. There was more going on than sweating off a few extra pounds. Robin was doing this for a man.

“You dating anyone?” Libby asked, hoping to sound casual.

Robin jerked her head toward her so fast she might have injured her neck. “No. What makes you ask?”

“No reason.” Libby wasn’t sure Robin believed her. The machine had her half-running now and at an angle that made talking impossible. She kept her gaze focused ahead instead of looking at the timer that flashed the minutes left in her program. Directly in front of her several men lifted weights, their upper arm muscles bulging. Frankly, they were just the distraction she needed. Eye candy.

Robin and Libby finished at the same time. Libby grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from her face. Robin looked about the same as Libby had her first day—as if she were ready to vomit.

“You okay?”

Robin stared back at her. “You know CPR, right?”

Libby smiled. “Yeah, I got certified in high school.”

They entered the locker room and sat down on the bench to collect their breath.

“When was the last time you went on a date?” Robin asked.

Libby had to think about it. Following her divorce she’d basically avoided relationships. Getting involved hadn’t seemed like a good idea until she made partner, if she wanted to avoid the pitfalls of her failed marriage. Their conflicting schedules certainly didn’t help. Joe cooked the dinner shift while Libby maintained a normal daytime work schedule, so they rarely saw each other. By the time she was home from the office, he was already at the diner. After a while they became more roommates than lovers. As the months progressed their worlds seemed to grow farther and farther apart.

Libby vividly remembered the day she’d arrived home to discover that Joe was at the apartment instead of the diner. At first she’d been thrilled to see him, but then she realized why he was there. He was packing up to move out.

“Joe?” she’d asked, hardly able to believe this could be happening. Even now she felt her stomach tightening at the memory.

Her husband refused to look at her. Instead he continued collecting his clothes and personal items almost as if she wasn’t in the room.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“It should be obvious.” He continued to avoid eye contact, intent on carting his shirts from the closet to the suitcase he’d spread open atop their bed. “Nothing’s going to change, Libby. You have your life and I have mine. You don’t want to admit it, so I will. You’ve got dreams, and that’s great. You’re the best, but I’m a regular Joe, no pun intended. I don’t want anything more than a wife and a few kids.”

“But I thought we agreed—”

Joe cut her off. “I can see the writing on the wall. There’s never going to be a convenient time for you to have one baby, let alone two or three.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but he continued.

“A family would hold you back. I’m not angry, Libby, really I’m not. I want you to have the things you want. But I have dreams, too, and my dreams clash with yours. It’s time we recognized we aren’t both going to be able to have the things we want … at least not together.”

He was right, and deep down Libby had recognized the truth of it. After a few weak arguments she let him go. It’d broken her heart to watch him cart his suitcases out the door.

Their divorce was probably one of the most amicable ones in history. Once it was final, they met for lunch and hugged afterward. Libby cried against his shoulder and Joe held her close and tight. Then they broke apart, walking away in separate directions. He’d remarried within a year, a waitress from the diner. Although they were no longer in contact, she wished Joe love and happiness.