Page 33 of Resistance Training

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T he sliding doors from the lobby open again, and once again, someone who isn’t Vivian walks through them.

The amount of disappointment I feel is…disappointing.

“Christ on a cream puff, Mitch.” Larry’s doing seated leg curls and I’ve lost count of his reps, and even though this isn’t a training session, that is inexcusable. “You’ve gone way beyond Pussy Face. You’ve got Pussy Soul, my friend. What exactly did she do to you on my boat?”

I made sure to leave no trace of anything we did on his boat before we disembarked.

Not that we did that much. Once was enough.

For yesterday. That’s a lie—it wasn’t anywhere near enough.

Today is a new day, and I’m ready to negotiate terms with Vivian.

But I will never be ready to talk to Larry about what we did on his boat or anywhere else.

“I think we can add another weight plate” is my reply.

“Fair enough, bruh,” he says, shaking his head.

And then, across the gym, the sliding doors open and Vivian does walk through them.

She is somehow more beautiful today than ever before.

Her dark hair is billowing around her shoulders, which is not appropriate for working out, but I don’t even care because she’s hot and I want her mouth on my cock again.

She doesn’t do the usual friendly scan of the room as she enters.

She probably knows that Cindy and the girls aren’t here right now.

She’s on time for our session and heading directly toward me.

As much as her directness pains me, I have come to expect and desire it. I’ll think about what that means later.

“Good evening, Captain,” she says as she stops in front of me. She’s wearing workout clothes that are not as revealing as the ones she wore last week. Loose T-shirt over her tank top, joggers instead of leggings. But that does nothing to hide the curves that taunt me from under those layers.

She smiles over at Larry. “Hi, Larry. Thanks again for the use of your yacht. It was a really lovely day.”

“My pleasure, darlin’.” He winks at her. “She’s all yours whenever you feel like going for a cruise.”

She looks back over at me. “Shall we have a chat in your office?”

That is a different tone for her, but I’m into it. “Yes, let’s have a chat in my office.”

We both gesture for the other to lead the way, probably because we want to see each other’s butts. I end up going first. My gift to her. She shuts my office door behind us and opens up her giant shoulder bag.

She hands me a printout of the weekly questionnaire. She’s filled it out already.

What is your ultimate goal for these personal-training sessions? To continue boning Brad Mitchell.

Why? Because he enjoys it.

How much water did you drink today? Barely enough to replenish the fluids I lost over the weekend from not-working-out reasons.

What are your strengths? Fellatio.

What are your weaknesses? Too good at fellatio.

I fold up the paper, tear it into twenty pieces, and drop them in the recycling bin. “Ms. Sparks. If you aren’t going to take these training sessions seriously…”

“Oh, calm down and check your email. I sent you my real answers when I was at the office.”

“That was a waste of paper.”

“No, I think it was worth it to see the look on your face while you read it.” She removes two manila envelopes from her bag and hands them to me.

“What’s this?”

“One contains some notes on wording for your employee handbook. I haven’t seen what you’ve got in your current handbook, but I had some ideas and did some research on my lunch break.

Don’t worry—I won’t bill you for it. The other envelope contains an affidavit stating that I, Vivian Sparks, will not sue or threaten to sue you or write any negative reviews online, that any intimate activity between us is consensual and in fact was initiated by me. I had my friend notarize it.”

“Okay…”

“And I would like you to assign another trainer for my one-on-one sessions here. Whoever you’re most comfortable with.”

“Okay… That would be Gwen. She’s actually free right now.”

“Great.”

“Good. So, do you want to come by my place later tonight?”

She looks down and sighs.

I don’t like that.

“You still haven’t read my emails, I take it?”

“No.”

She shakes her head. “Bradley…Mitch…what’s the worst that could happen if you forgive me?”

“That is not an appropriate topic of discussion while I’m at work.”

“Right. Okay. Look, I’m not going to go by your place later tonight.” She fiddles with the zipper on her shoulder bag, and it reminds me of her unzipping my jeans yesterday, and I can’t focus and this is bad.

Did she just say she’s not going to my place? “Huh?”

“This has been really fun and…stimulating, but I’m tired of pretending.”

“Pretending what?”

She won’t look at me. She shrugs, as if she isn’t saying things that are totally devastating to both of us.

“That it doesn’t hurt.” She’s tearing up and her voice quivers, and it hurts my heart.

“I know I hurt you, and I know you’ve built this new life around the anger you have about the way people treated you in high school.

I get it. I don’t want to disrupt your life in a bad way.

But at this point it’s just you hurting yourself and blaming me for making you feel things.

I say this as your former best friend—you’re gonna have to feel the feelings. ”

She takes a deep breath and finally looks up at me. “You have to. And I don’t want to see you outside of the gym until you’re ready to do that. I don’t want to have to keep missing you when you’re right in front of me…or on top of me or under me or behind me, depending on…you know what I mean.”

“Yeah.” I place the manila envelopes in a locked drawer and tap on the desktop. “Lemme go talk to Gwen. You can wait for her in the private room.”

She sniffs and dabs at the corners of her eyes with her finger. “Are you okay?”

“Yep.” I do the only thing I can think of doing right now. I hold out my hand to shake hers. “Good luck with the rest of your training. Keep up the good work.”

She blows out a laugh and takes my hand.

It takes all my strength not to pull her in and kiss her.

“Thanks. Same to you.”

I go talk to Gwen, fill her in on what we did in the first three sessions, and I don’t even watch her walk into the back room because I don’t want to risk seeing Vivian in there if I can’t go in myself.

This was not my intention for the day.

But I will make the necessary mental adjustments.

I find myself wandering back over to the leg-press machine, where Larry is working on his quads. “Keep your back flat against the seat pad,” I mutter.

He glances over at me, exhaling as he pushes the platform away. Pausing at the top of the movement, he says, “Yeesh.” As he returns the footplate to the starting position, he says, “What happened in there?”

“Nothing.”

“Certainly looks that way, Scorp.” He pauses his set, staying in the same position as he continues talking to me.

“Listen. You don’t have to give me any details.

I don’t need them. I can guess what’s going on here.

She wants you to open up somehow, and you’re reluctant.

I get it. Here’s the thing. Are you listening? ”

I crouch down so he doesn’t have to yell. I don’t really want to hear any more of this real shit today, but Larry has a way of dishing things out that I can handle. “Go ahead.”

“ Love is a verb. You make a choice every single day when you’re in a relationship, whether you’re married or not: Do I want to love this person and make the relationship work? Yes or no. Proceed according to your answer. Do you want to verb Vivian? Don’t think about it, just answer.”

“I want to verb her so hard it terrifies me.”

“Sounds like a hell yes to me, bruh.”

“That is incredibly insightful…”

“For someone who’s been divorced four times?”

“I mean.”

“Two of my wives chose not to verb me any longer. I eventually chose not to verb any of them anymore. The biggest lesson I learned after my first company and my first marriage ended was that you only fail if you decide to give up when something doesn’t go the way you wanted it to.

You don’t want to get hurt? Roger that. Nobody really wants to get hurt.

Are you willing to feel the pain of loving a woman so much that it feels like you’re dying when you lose her?

” he asks. “Man, you got your journal to keep track of gains and personal records when it comes to muscles and lifting. How about a journal that tracks being brave when it comes to loving someone who’s explicitly told you she wants to love you?

That kind of strength is undervalued in a man.

Why don’t you challenge yourself to set some emotional PRs for a change? ”

I have to grip the headrest for leverage when I stand up. This is all too much. I feel bullied and beat up, and no one has touched me or said one mean thing. They’re just scraping away at my ego with every sentence. I don’t even know what to say.

“Like I said, Cindy told me about what happened to you senior year,” he continues, “but don’t you see how lucky you are?

First of all—it’s a gift to have your heart broken for the first time.

A broken heart is an open heart. We’re all the same when we’re in love—there’s nothing easier than falling in love for the first time in your life.

It’s how we respond to getting our heart broken that first time that defines who we become as adults.

I’m not saying what you did was wrong, not at all.

But do you know how rare it is to have the opportunity to be healed by the person who broke your heart?

For that person to be willing to heal you and grow with you, as the new people you’ve both become?

” He shakes his head, then stares up at his feet. “That shit is priceless, bruh.”

Even if I didn’t have a huge fucking lump in my throat, there isn’t one thing I could say in response to that.

I go home early. Before Vivian’s session is over. Partly because I don’t want to see Vivian and partly because I want to spend some time with Bella. Mostly because I need fresh air and zero humans around me while I enjoy my remaining hours as a free man.

I kitten-proofed the condo last night. Covered up any spaces under furniture and between appliances that a tiny cat could hide in. I don’t want to rush her, but I have a feeling Bella’s ready to leave the guest bathroom and do a little exploring.

Leaning against the door, I say, “Hi. I’m going to open this door, give you your dinner, and leave the door open.

And then I’m going to walk away to heat up my dinner.

Okay? You can come out and wander around if you feel like it and then come back in here whenever you want to.

You will have this room to retreat to for as long as you need it.

But you’re welcome to come out if you want. Cool?”

I open the door and leave a bowl of kitten food on the floor by the kennel.

Bella’s in there, near the opening of the kennel, watching me.

I don’t tell her this, because I don’t want to pressure her, but I’ve decided that if she comes out tonight, then I will open that archived folder and read Vivian’s old emails.

If she isn’t ready to come out, well, I’m not ready yet either.

Not even half an hour later when I’m in the kitchen, finishing up the ground-turkey taco bowl I prepped yesterday morning, I hear a bold, high-pitched little meow from the living room.

Fuck.