Just One Look
Copyright© 2025 by DB86
Chapter 5
Pain woke me up in the middle of the night. I must’ve tried to roll over, and my muscles protested loudly. Still half asleep, I got out of bed, letting out a long “owwwww” as I stood.
Making my way to the bathroom like a ninety-year-old, I popped some Advil and very deliberately didn’t look at myself in the mirror. I couldn’t deal with how pathetic I felt. I didn’t need to see it in front of me.
My whole body hurt. My legs, arms, chest, back, everywhere. I shuffled back to bed, wishing to die.
I was awake before my alarm, staring at the ceiling and trying not to move. I didn’t even have to move to know what hurt. Everything hurt without trying. Today was going to be hell. I had no way of knowing if soaking in the bath last night helped at all, and I had to wonder how I would’ve felt if Derek hadn’t told me to do it. But knowing that moving and gently stretching out the muscles, along with a hot shower, would help, I made myself get up.
Reaching for the shower taps hurt, the hot water hurt, trying to wash my body hurt, drying off hurt, getting dressed hurt.
Everything hurt. Every—fucking—thing.
Somehow managed to drive to work. I had to check several appointments and meet four new potential clients. I walked like I wore razor-wire underwear. People eyed me weirdly, but they always did, so maybe it was me being oversensitive.
The only person who was accustomed to my verbal diarrhea was my personal assistant, Marisa Mangione. Yeah, you guessed it, my cousin. She was married with three kids.
She took one look at me and laughed, the papers in her hand forgotten. “Wild weekend, Pete?”
“I wish.”
“What the hell happened to you?”
“It’s a long story. It involves torture and humiliation in a modern dungeon.”
“Let me guess, those girls convinced you to go to the gym.”
I touched the tip of my nose, shuffled past her into my office, and lowered myself slowly, painfully, into my desk chair.
She followed me, of course, and sat across from me. “Are you trying to lose weight?”
I nodded, powering my laptop.
“Good for you. You have my respect. After three kids, I have to watch my weight, too. You know, large hips run in our Italian genes. Why now?”
I knew Marisa, she wasn’t going to let it go, so I told her about my failed blind date, and being tired of being rejected because of my weight.
Melinda’s nostrils flared. “Well, if that’s how she treats you, then good riddance, I say.”
Did I mention she had the tact of a bull in a china shop?
“I’m in my mid-thirties and still single. My life is half over. I mean, a lot of people died at seventy, especially if you are overweight. So, I decided I have to make the most of what time I have left. And the truth is, if I don’t change my lifestyle choices now, maybe I won’t even get another thirty-five years. Or, at the very least, I wouldn’t get a healthy thirty-five years. It was about time to do something about it. So, I joined a gym. Derek Hayes is my personal trainer.”
“You in a gym? Have you lost your mind?”
“Yep. And my dignity. And my ability to move without excruciating pain.”
“Your mother is going to freak out.”
“I know. But she’ll have to accept it. If she wants grandchildren any time soon, it’s the only way. My sister doesn’t stay married long enough to get pregnant.”
“We need to discuss some budgets,” she said, going into work mode. “Coffee first?”
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