Page 12 of The Weight Of It All

Rihanti, Lena, and I both stared at him.

It was completely gross and completely not related to what we were talking about and very much how most of my conversations ended up.

I realised that maybe Kadin and I had more in common than I first realised and made a mental note that I liked him now and would make an effort to be awkward with him together.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “I hope she told them what they ate.”

He just shrugged. “Nope. Just has the satisfaction in knowing, that’s all.”

“Anyway,” Lena said with a smile, “thanks again for the lemon tart. And we’ll put a memo out to see if anyone’s interested in doing a Monday morning tea share thing. It was good to speak to you.”

“Yes,” Rihanti agreed. “And I can tell you’ve been dieting these last few weeks. You look great.”

“Oh.” I blinked a few times. Her compliment threw me for a six. It had been years since I’d received a compliment, and I wasn’t sure what to say. “Um. Thanks?”

“You can tell,” Kadin added. “That you’re dieting.”

Okay, so now I wanted to crawl under the table.

Thankfully, like a come-save-your-boss alarm went off, Melinda came to my rescue.

She sat down across from me, totally diverting their attention.

“I’ll send the lemon tart recipe out in a blind copy,” she declared to no one in particular. “If I can get him to share it.”

They all seemed pleased by this, and I breathed a sigh of relief when they left us to eat our lunch in peace. “You okay?” Melinda asked gently.

“Yes, I’m fine. They just made small talk, and apparently I’ve instigated a Monday morning tea cook off.

Which I’m totally blaming on you because you served the lemon tart to them.

And now it will surely be expected that I have regular conversations with co-workers.

I already blabbered on like an idiot in front of them.

Though I think Kadin and I might be able to contend for ‘Australia’s most awkward conversation’ contest. He seems nice, though, despite the dog-food sandwich comment. ”

Melinda’s only reaction to my entire tirade was a slight flicker of her eyebrow. “How’s your lunch?”

I looked at my half-eaten salad. “Oh. It’s good. How’s yours?”

She bit into her chicken salad wrap and made a half-committed assent type noise. “Hmm.”

“They said they could tell I’d been dieting.”

Melinda swallowed her food. “You can. Your suit hides a lot, but you can tell around your face and neck.”

“Oh.”

“That was a compliment, Henry.”

I grimaced. “I know. Compliments make me uncomfortable.”

She smiled as she bit into her wrap. When she’d finished eating, she said, “Anika called. You’re going out tomorrow night.”

“Am I?”

“Have you ever won an argument with Anika?”

“Good point.” I closed the lid on my empty salad container and set the fork on top of it. “What time and where?”

“Seven o’clock at The London.”

The London was a popular hotel within stumbling distance to my place. Which is where we frequented when it was my turn to get shitfaced. “Did she elaborate on the occasion?”

“She said it would be Friday and you hadn’t heard from Graham about his belongings.”

My stomach turned and my heart squeezed. “Oh yeah. I forgot. Maybe he’s busy.”

Melinda made a thoughtful face like him being busy was a possibility. “Or, maybe he’s a selfish arsehole who did you a favour by leaving.”

I sighed. “I take it you and Anika had a little chat.”

“Yes. She’s bringing BBQ starters and lighter fluid to your place on Saturday morning for a ritual burning of what he left behind.”

Me , I thought sourly. He left me behind .

“She also said you’ve been conversing with your personal trainer more than is required, and I might have mentioned your smile and mood this morning when you arrived.”

I gasped. “Oh no you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did.” Her poker face was frightening. “I said I hadn’t seen you smile like that in a long time.”

“There’s nothing going on between Reed and me.

I’ve told Anika this, and I even explained the island called I’m Not Ready For That, which I’m currently stranded on.

” I sniffed. “And just because Reed and I talk and text and spent a few hours at the food market together, doesn’t mean anything.

He’s a nice guy, he’s helping me achieve my goals, and he likes food.

We have things in common. That’s not a crime. ”

The corner of her eyebrow flicked again, but her lips remained pursed.

“And just because we’re both gay and he’s gorgeous and the size of a fridge, doesn’t mean anything either. Two gay men can have a platonic relationship,” I whispered across the table. “It’s not all about sex. And anyway, he’s so far out of my league, we’re not even on the same planet.”

She stared at me for a long uncomfortable second. “You finished convincing yourself yet?”

“Not even close. And you and Anika aren’t allowed to talk to each other anymore. I prohibit it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Really?”

“Yes.”

Melinda let out a long-suffering sigh. “You have a two o’clock with Lillian, and I emailed you the Kerual account file.”

I huffed, disappointed that she didn’t bite at anything I just said. “Thank you.”

“You’ re welcome.”

Without another word, we both stood up and put our rubbish in the bin. I held the door open for her, and we walked in stubborn silence to my office door. I waited for a moment, wondering if I should say anything that wouldn’t make my convincing myself any worse, but she spoke instead.

“Everyone who tried your lemon tart loved it, Henry. It was the perfect excuse for you to talk to the people you work with, and if you’d give them a chance, they’ll love you too.”

I stared at her. “Is that another compliment? Because we’ve just been through that.”

She walked to her desk. “You mispronounced thank you.”

Without responding, I pushed my office door open and went inside.

I spent the next hour and fifty-five minutes going through the Kerual file, making notes and a report for my meeting.

I was distracted though, with what Melinda had said.

I’d avoided conversations with my co-workers for years because I didn’t want them to think I was an idiot, and if I were being honest with myself, I did enjoy the brief conversation I’d had at lunch time.

And if everyone decided to cook something once in a while and bring it to work to share, that had to be a good thing, right?

And the fact was, now that I lived alone, the interaction with people was nice.

Even if it was awkward and I made a fool of myself, I felt better for it.

So just before I left for my two-o’clock, I emailed Melinda.

Thank you .

Friday passed in a bit of blur. I had meetings, reports to do, and statistics to go over, and I was kept busy all day.

I did notice the pretty red-haired girl that had spoken to me yesterday now smiled at me in the hall, and Lena and Kadin both greeted me with a “Hi Henry” as I entered the break room at lunchtime.

I was a little sore in the shoulders and quads from my workout the morning before, but it was what I’d call a pleasant soreness. It wasn’t debilitating. It was just a gentle reminder that my body was changing, improving, and I liked that.

By the time I got home after work, going out for a drink with Anika was the last thing I felt like doing.

Anika had texted me earlier to remind me, which was really a thinly veiled threat not to stand her up.

So, like a good best friend, I dragged my arse into my closet and pulled out an outfit of dark jeans and a black sweater.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gone out.

Certainly not with Graham. I preferred to spend my weekends staying in, having dinner parties, or quiet nights with a good book and a glass of wine.

And I grumbled as I got changed, until I pulled on my jeans.

And holy shit. Not only were they not tight, but they were even a little big around the waist! I could do the button up easily with room to spare, and they were even a little roomy around my arse and thighs.

I walked out to look in the full-length mirror, a slow spreading smile covering my face.

Oh my God.

I hadn’t noticed any change in my work pants.

Well, they were a little loose, which I just fixed with a belt.

I figured they were getting old or something.

I didn’t even think that much about it, to be honest. But this, these jeans, was proof that my change in diet and new exercise regime were working.

I grabbed my phone and thumbed to the camera. I took a picture of my reflection, with one hand pulling on the waistband of my jeans showing the extra room that wasn’t there just three weeks ago. I quickly found Reed’s number, attached the photo, and typed out an excited message.

Holy Crap, look at this!

His reply was almost immediate.

Excellent! Well done. I knew you could do it!

I laughed at his reply.

I don’t think I’d smiled this much in weeks… Sorry to bother you on a Friday night. Just wanted to share my excitement.

It’s no bother at all. Actually, you just made my day. Good to know all that hard work has paid off.

Are you saying I’m hard work?

I grinned at my phone, waiting for his reply. But instead of a message, my phone rang in my hand. Reed’s name flashed on my screen, and I hit Answer, still smiling. There was no hello or anything. “Please tell me you were joking?”

“About me being hard work?”

“Yes!”

I laughed. “I was, yes. Though we both know I like to whinge a lot, and I complain about everything you make me do.”

He laughed. It was a relieved sound. “Well, true. But you do whatever I make you do, no matter how much you know it will hurt.”

“This is true. Never considered myself a masochist before. I’m actually rather enjoying the muscle soreness and twinges.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, it reminds me that I’m doing something instead of sitting on my fat arse. ”

He chuckled. “You never had a fat arse.”