Chapter Seven

Lucy lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying not to think about the twinges in her arms and legs every time she moved or rolled over.

She punched her pillow several times for emphasis, and then flopped back down, willing herself to go to sleep despite the muscle aches.

But sleep didn’t appear to be happening for a while.

She had a feeling that over the next few days, Spencer would start drilling her about why she was obese.

And in order to tell him, she had to rip the bandage off her privacy, and off her struggles and just be honest.

Wasn’t that what all those weight loss programs and shows said? You have to forgive, move on, address the mental problem and then things would change?

The truth was, Lucy wasn’t so sure about her mental state.

It just seemed like… when Ryan was killed, she ate to comfort, to forget, to have something to do other than roam around the house, waiting for him to come home.

He wasn’t coming home ever again, and yet, she kept eating, even after that realization began to sink in.

After a while, her grief abated a bit, but her eating didn’t. She just couldn’t seem to stop; she just… she just really liked food. Liked how the ‘bad’ food tasted, liked feeling full, and liked having something to do in the evening, liking trying challenging recipes and baking cookies.

Too bad she ate everything she made, usually in one sitting.

And now here she was, overweight, ashamed, sad and lonely.

And ouch – sore, she added to the mental list as she shifted in the bed.

But sore was okay; sore at least meant she’d done something that day to reverse the trend.

Now she just had to train her brain to let the food go, to focus on the fuel, not the food, as Spencer would say.

Too bad she was laying here thinking of Oreos instead of sleeping, she thought angrily.

Maybe she wasn’t quite ready, yet.

**

“Wow, and I didn’t even have to tail your car,” Spencer said as Lucy walked through the door of the warehouse the next afternoon.

“Huh?” she asked, looking vaguely concerned. “You tail your clients? Should I be thinking restraining order?”

“Only the ones that skip sessions,” Spencer said sweetly. “Get on the exercise bike.”

Lucy huffed. “Can I at least take off my jacket and fill up my water bottle?”

Spencer shook his head. “I’ll fill it while you ride – stop stalling.”

With a grimace, Lucy climbed aboard the bike and began peddling. After a couple of minutes, she gestured to Spencer – using only one finger.

“Have a question, Ms. Hilderbrand?” he said, biting back a grin at her one fingered salute.

“I have a suggestion, actually,” she said, wiping away of bead of sweat her from upper lip. “Actually, two suggestions,” she said after a moment.

“Fire away,” Spencer said, reaching over and increasing the resistance on the bike, forcing Lucy to make another huffing sound.

“One, perhaps you should provide towels for clients who are sweating all over your equipment like it’s the middle of the Serengeti in July. Or better yet, turn down the air conditioning so it’s actually, you know, cool.”

“It’s hard to cool a warehouse, and I don’t charge enough to pay that kind of electric bill,” Spencer shot back. “But I’ll be happy to buy you a little washcloth at the dollar store if that will help.”

Lucy glared at him, then continued. “My other suggestion is that you don’t put girls with big butts on machines with tiny seats, because seriously, OW.”

“Is there a problem?”

“Yes, my problem is that my lady parts seem to have gone numb. I hate to share that with you, I mean, we hardly know each other, but as a massage therapist, I was taught in school that when things go numb, it’s usually bad. So, lady part numbness I’m thinking is pretty high on the spectrum of bad. Also, as previously stated, ow.”

“Huh.”

“Yes.”

“’Well, I’ll take it under advisement. Add another mile per hour to your speed,” Spencer said evenly.

Lucy wiped her lip again and shook her head, her eyes pleading now. “Seriously. This hurts.”

“Only a couple more miles, Lucy, c’mon,” Spencer said encouragingly. “Don’t make me go all drill sergeant on you.”

“This doesn’t feel very warm and fuzzy, as promised,” Lucy shot back, even while increasing her speed.

“Are you going to be this obstinate every day?” Spencer mused, his tone light.

“If you numb the lady parts every day, I’m going to be beyond obstinate,” Lucy fired.

“Can we stop referring to your lady parts?” Spencer said with a grin. “You’re making me blush.”

“You’re making me sweat; we’re even,” Lucy said.

But she kept cycling.

And cycling.

And felt secretly proud when Spencer told her she had ridden five miles and done a great job doing it.

She followed him to the treadmill and stepped on, adjusting to the speed he input. “So,” he said, conversationally, handing her the bottle of water so she could have a drink. “Tell me about becoming a masseuse? Why that line of work?”

Lucy drank, then handed the bottle back. “I like making people feel better. I like the quiet and the simplicity of it. I like the one on one work, where I really get to affect a person, if only for a little while.”

“Sounds like me,” Spencer mused.

Lucy thought, and then nodded. “That’s true, I guess. I never really thought of it that way.”

“So tell me some other fun facts about Lucy Hilderbrand,” Spencer said. “Keep your chest lifted, don’t slouch as you walk,” he said, correcting her posture while she continued to stride.

“Um,” Lucy bit her lip in thought. “I’m a Taurus. I like long walks on the beach. I enjoy cooking Italian food…”

“Not ‘personal ad’ Lucy, the real Lucy,” Spencer teased.

“Okay, but all those things were actually true,” Lucy said. “You’re turn.”

“You’re all about turns, aren’t you?”

“Humor me.”

Spencer grinned. “I’m a Virgo. I also like long walks on the beach. I don’t eat many carbs so not so much with the Italian food.”

Lucy laughed. “What do you eat?”

“Lean protein, lots of veggies, lots of water.”

“Ugh.”

“Don’t ‘ugh’ me,” Spencer said, pointing at her. “C’mon, more Lucy facts while we increase speed for two minutes.”

“Um, I like to read,” Lucy said between breaths. “I just read this amazing biography…”

While Lucy described the latest books she’d read, Spencer surreptitiously edged the speed higher and higher, impressed with her drive and staying power.

And he also noted that, as she segued from books to movies to music, she had a lot more in common with his twin than with himself. She at least had read books recently that hadn’t even been turned into movies yet…

Too bad Sullivan had no interest in dating right now and Lucy seemed to be caught up in her own shell – they might have hit it off, he mused, finally ratcheting down her speed and beginning a cool down.

“You did that… deliberately,” Lucy accused as she sipped her water and slowed her pace.

“What?”

“Asked me questions to distract me, thinking I wouldn’t notice you had me at like, Usain Bolt pace,” she said.

Spencer laughed. “That, and it helps with your lung capacity, forces your body to work harder, getting that oxygen in. That’s why a lot of live performers sing on the treadmill before going on tour, since they are usually dancing around on stage and need to increase that lung capacity.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not Britney Spears,” Lucy said, stepping off the machine entirely. “Thank god,” they both said in unison, then both laughing.

“What’s next, coach?” Lucy asked, putting down her bottle.

“Food!” Spencer said brightly.

“Ooh, my favorite!” Lucy beamed.

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