Page 48 of Hope After Loss

I make my way over to her.

“Do you need me to show you again?” she asks.

I shake my head.

“No, I think I have it. I’m going to be honest. My arms are like Jell-O, and I’ve never been able to do a real push-up. I kinda suck at girl push-ups.”

Her face softens. “That’s why I’m here. No one is good at push-ups out of the gate. Let’s do a couple of practice ones before you do a full burpee,” she says.

I nod.

“The first thing you want to do is get into a plank position.”

We both go to the mat, where she instructs me and corrects my form.

“I can already see where you’re having trouble. Your hands are not in the right position. You want to plant them slightly wider than your shoulders. Straighten your arms and legs and then slowly lower your body until your chest almost touches the mat. Then, you push yourself back up.”

I watch her and mimic her moves—or at least, I try. My arms shake, and I collapse before I can push my way back up.

“That was a good try. Let’s do it again,” she encourages.

For the next ten minutes, I attempt and fail over and over. On the last go, I can do a full execution without her having to press on my buttocks to keep my back aligned.

“That was good. See, I knew you could do it.”

“Thanks.”

“Now, let’s do a couple more, and then we’ll try a burpee.”

My confidence is boosted, and I do three more semi-correct push-ups.

“So, you say you work for Weston,” she says as she watches over me.

“Yeah, in the office at the hemp farm,” I wheeze.

“Do all his employees towel him down after a workout?” she asks.

What?

“I’m sorry?” I answer.

“I saw you two in the parking lot as he was leaving the gym this afternoon,” she states.

“Oh, no, he was just being an ass and getting his sweat all over me. I was tossing my towel at him to get him to stop. He knows it bothers me.”

“Uh-huh.”

I look up at her.

“So, you and Weston aren’t a thing then?” she asks.

“Are you and Weston a thing?” I ask her.

She shrugs. “We’ve been out on a date or two,” she replies.

“Then, why would you assume he was seeing me?”

She sits down with crossed legs on the mat beside me. “Weston Tuttle isn’t the type of man you can make assumptions about. He’s more of theenjoy him while you have his attentiontype.”