Because of Them (Because of Love #2)

Chapter Ten

AUDREY

T he week since I finally found the guts to tell Michael he was going to become a father has been an exhausting blur of long workdays and sweet goodnight messages. I stopped leaving him on read and a little of the easy banter between us has returned. When he asked if I was free, I found myself wanting to see him. Wanting to find a little piece of what we could have had. So here I am, completely out of my comfort zone, at Michael’s gym.

Weights and machines clang all around the wide, open converted warehouse. The sound echoes around the high ceiling, with its exposed vents and wiring. Beneath my feet, foam mats mould against the soles of my years old, worn-down shoes.

Michael reaches down and holds my hand as we walk further into the space. Everyone stops and stares, but smiles at Michael before returning their attention to their own workouts. Weighted squats over here, cardio machines over there, rows of dumbbells and plates set up to work every inch of muscle in your body. My chest is heavy. I don’t know how to use any of these machines. I end up out of breath after pushing the shopping trolley around for an hour. This was a dumb idea.

I’ve stopped walking, frozen in my place near the temporary lockers set up by the door. Michael squeezes my hand.

“We don’t have to be here.”

I shake my head, mustering up a little confidence. “No, I want to be,” I tell him, even when my body protests.

I do want to be here. But not because I want to work out with Michael. Honestly as we’re getting ready to start, I can’t think of anything worse. No. I want to be here just to be with Michael. Everything about us, from the first few dates we’ve been on, to everything that’s sure to come with the baby, has been about me.

Michael took me to the epic science fiction movie I desperately wanted to see at the cinema, even though he has no interest in far off, imaginary, desert worlds. He suggested we go to the gardens because I told him I love being in nature when I’m stressed. And he came to my house to meet Maisie, even though it ended terribly.

If we are going to be tied together by this baby, it’s time for me to put in an equal amount of effort.

“You’ll just have to show me what to do,” I say as I dump my handbag into a free locker. “And go easy on me.”

Stepping towards me, Michael rests a hand on my arm. His other hand lingers between us, but he waits until I give my head a small nod before he spreads his fingers out over my stomach.

“Are you sure you should even be doing anything? Won’t it hurt the baby?”

I lean in to his touch, pressing my not really showing yet stomach against his hands. “Exercise is good for me. Healthy, and I could probably do with a little movement. Plus, he’s pretty cosy in there, as long as you don’t make me deadlift my own bodyweight or something ridiculous, he’ll be fine.”

“Right, no deadlifts.”

He kisses the top of my head and steps back to pull off his hoodie. Tingles remain in my hairline as I follow him towards the closest monstrosity of equipment. They slowly spread their way across my body and I have to remind myself to breathe. I focus on Michael as he sets up the machine, trying not to be too daunted by the weights he is adding to either side. His arms strain under the weight of the plates, veins bulging. In a loose singlet and tiny shorts Michael is … wow.

I always knew he was more than fit. That much was obvious just in the way he holds himself and how his arms would always strain against his tees. But seeing him like this is on another level. It’s like muscle on muscle, covering every inch of him. I might as well be drooling.

A few women pause as they walk past, clearly checking him out. Their toned bodies are on show underneath their tight crop tops and bike shorts, and I cringe at the daggy outfit I have on. Old, faded, probably a little see through leggings, and a baggy old band T-shirt. I will never match up to the girls he is around on an almost daily basis, and the thought stirs inside me.

I’m not jealous of those women. I’m barely pregnant but I’m slowly accepting the changes my body will go through. Slowly coming to terms with how it might never be the same. Because it is doing something incredible and I’m damn proud of it. So, it’s not jealousy that leaves an uneasy feeling low in my chest. It’s fear.

Even if I come to terms with my new body, how would Michael? He cares, so much, about his body and his physique and he puts in the work to maintain the standard that he wants. If I don’t … how will he look at me? Will he find me attractive when the baby is born and I still carry the extra weight around my stomach?

Michael notices the girls staring, which is easy to do really. I’m surprised they don’t have their phones out taking pictures. As I open my mouth to throw out a snide remark, Michael’s arm wraps around my middle. He twists me to face him, planting another kiss on my forehead. I tilt my head up and his eyes meet mine. Heat flares between us as Michael rests his forehead against mine.

“They still looking?” he mumbles.

I glance over his shoulder. The girls are gone, but I almost wish they weren’t. My lower lip trembles with anticipation. “What if they are?”

Michael closes his eyes. “If they are, I might need to show them just who I’m here with. I might not be able to stop myself. But if they’re gone? I might be able to hold enough restraint to give you a choice.”

My heart flips down into my stomach, pulsing far below my belly. I dart my tongue out to wet my lips and Michael’s eyes track the movement. His hand spreads across my lower back, pulling me closer until our chests touch and I can feel every hasty breath he takes. The other hand cups my jaw and he traces his thumb along my lips. I gasp.

“Are they still there, Audrey?”

Our mouths are so close I can almost feel the movement of his lips as he whispers directly into me. I wish the girls were still there, wish he wasn’t leaving the choice up to me because God, I really want to kiss him right now, but it would be so messy. Good, sure. Fucking amazing, probably. But everything between us is teetering on the edge and I don’t know which way we should fall.

“They’re gone.” I close my eyes as I say the words. Wishing, hoping, he would kiss me anyway. But he doesn’t.

Michael groans. His fingers dip into my back as he squeezes me tight before stepping away. A chill runs through me as the cool blast from the air conditioner rushes between us. I curse internally. The low pulsing of my heart in my stomach is replaced by a twisting, nauseating wave and for a second, I search for the bathroom, worried my morning sickness is making a rapid reappearance.

Sitting down on the empty bench beside the machine Michael has returned to setting up, I rest my elbows on my knees and catch my breath. He finishes placing the plates and adjusting the heights and turns to look at me. With a smirk, he gestures for me to stand.

“I’m not doing that,” I tell him. I don’t even know what I would be doing, but he put three big plates on either side of the bar and that’s six plates too many for me.

He drops his hands to his hips and looks back at the bar. “Come here.”

I stand up but make no move to walk towards him. “I’m not doing that,” I repeat. “You said you’d go easy on me.”

Turning away, Michael shakes his head as a wide grin spreads across his face. He starts wheezing. “Jeez Audrey,” he gulps. “Do you really think I’d make you squat that?”

I fold my arms across my chest and shift my weight.

“I want you to spot me.” His smile drops into something far friendlier, and he reaches a hand towards me.

I don’t take it. “How can I spot you if I can’t hold that?”

“If I need you to hold all the weight, I’m doing it wrong. All you need to do is support it if I get stuck. You will never be taking all the weight, only a fraction to get me through the rep.”

“What’s a fraction of six plates?” I have no idea how much they weigh, but they look heavy.

Michael shrugs, scrunching his nose. “Can you still pick up Maisie?”

“Yes,” I answer, allowing the corner of my mouth to turn up a fraction. It gets harder to lift Maisie by the day, but that’s more because she is a five-year-old in the middle of a growth spurt than because I’m pregnant.

“Then you’ll be fine, I promise.”

I’m still hesitant, but the whole point of me coming to the gym was to show Michael that I was interested in getting to know him and his world now that he has been forced into mine. I drop my arms, letting a hand fall into Michael. He tugs me towards him, then directs me to stand behind the bar.

“I’ll step forward when I lift it off, and you just need to stay close as I do the reps. If you see me struggling, give a little upwards pressure on the bar without trying to take the weight. Okay?”

I hum my agreement because I don’t trust myself to form words. It all makes sense and I understand what I need to be doing, but also, nope, not okay. He wants me to stand behind him while he holds the bar and squats. And I’m supposed to be focused on making sure he can lift the weight back up, not the way his muscles strain against the weight or how his ass is going to pop out towards me.

I’m starting to remember exactly why I fell for Michael in the first place. There’s sex, and then there’s the fucking mind blowing ‘he can throw me around like a ragdoll’ kind of sex. The kind that’s rough in all the best ways but ends with warm embraces and gentle massages. And when I remember the post sex bear hugs, I can’t help but think of the ‘I’m so excited to see you’ bear hugs and the ‘please stay a little longer’ bear hugs.

All this time, I was remembering Michael as the guy who ran out in the morning because he heard Maisie call out for me. I’d forgotten the flirty and nurturing guy who swept me off my feet and made me feel human again. I’d forgotten how afternoons spent with Michael flew by in a haze of laughter and the kinds of fun I didn’t remember how to have.

Maybe I was too harsh on him. I’m still sour that he ran out when he did and took a week to call me, but I guess some small part of me understands it, at least. Maisie was always going to be a big adjustment for him, and maybe there’s a case there that says I shouldn’t have expected him to play happy family quite so soon. I held that against him for so long, even after he apologised countless times and tried so hard to get us back together.

All I can do is hope that the next six months are enough for him to get used to the fact he is going to be a father. There’s no running out this time.

In front of me, Michael lifts the bar and all its weight off the supports and takes a step forward. I shuffle closer, ready to spot him if he needs me. He does his set of squats, dropping low, and just as I expected his muscles pulse under the weight. I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to ignore that heat pressing against my core.

After six squats, Michael steps back and I jump out of his way as he re-racks the bar. He turns to me, hanging his arms over the now supported bar and winking.

“See. Didn’t need you.”

“Do you have to do more?”

Michael grabs the bar loosely and swings under it, landing in my arms. He gathers my hair in his hands, then loops the hair tie on his wrist around it, pulling my messy strands into a low ponytail. “While I rest, it’s your turn.”

A firm lump forms directly in my throat and I try to gulp it down but end up choking on a tiny sliver of my own saliva. Coughing, I wave my hand at him.

“I said I’m not doing that.”

Michael pats me on the shoulder and reaches past me to pick up a thin bar from the floor. He rests one end on the ground and leans on it like a cane. “You’ll use this.”

Right. That makes more sense, I suppose. This bar is far thinner than the one Michael was using, but I’ve never done any kind of weight training. Surely this is too much. I’m about to tell him so, when Michael rests one finger on my lips.

“It weighs less than five kilos Audrey; you carry more than that when you bring the groceries inside.”

The lump in my throat doesn’t magically dissipate, but I nod my acceptance anyway. Michael shows me where to stand and how far apart to hold my legs, then stands behind me to place the bar across my shoulders. He isn’t touching me, but we are so close his singlet brushes against my shirt.

“I’m right here,” he whispers in my ear. “Bend with your knees and keep your back straight.”

With his hands on my waist, he guides me through the first squat, and the second. His fingers barely graze against my hips for the next and I’m already dying to call it quits. My thighs burn and the bar is heavy on my shoulders.

“Three more.” Michael’s voice is breathy against the back of my neck and I force myself to complete the set.

“I’m done,” I declare as he takes the bar from my shoulders. “I tried. I’m done.”

“We can go.”

“You can finish your workout. I don’t want you to call it early because I’m an unfit pregnant wuss.”

Michael drops my tiny bar into a rack on the wall and steps up to the plates on his far larger bar. One by one he pulls them off, hanging them back on the side of the stand. Once all six plates have been put away, he hangs the bar in place with all the rest and turns to me.

“I love that you wanted to come here Audrey, and I appreciate it, but I don’t expect you to sit around watching me. This was meant to be about getting to know each other, right?”

I wrap my arms around my stomach, looking down at my feet with a nod. Stepping forward, Michael tilts my chin back up to look at him.

“So, we learnt that you don’t like the gym unless you’re watching me. And I have my own set up at home, so if you really want to watch me, we don’t need to be here. And there are other things we can do back there that we can’t do here.”

His eyes twinkle and I allow a smile to creep onto my face. I tap my temple with my forefinger. “I don’t need to watch you, Michael. I’ve got it all up here forever now.”

He wraps his arms around me and pulls me close. I’m about to squirm free when his mouth meets mine with a firm but playful kiss. I tense against him at first, but he doesn’t let go and I relax into his hold, and into the kiss. Planting a kiss on his lower lip I edge away from him.

Michael looks down at my stomach, his hand hovering an inch away from where our baby is currently stealing all my food. As if in response, my stomach grumbles. Breakfast was too long ago. I’m about to tell him but he heads for the lockers and rifles through his bag.

“I have something for you, before we go.”

Turning back to me he holds out a small brown, furry ball, along with a little plastic spoon that has a serrated edge on the handle.

“A kiwi fruit?”

He nods, tipping on his heels. “Our little baby isn’t a plum anymore. The app said at thirteen weeks he is the size of a kiwi fruit.”

“You downloaded an app?”

Michael pulls our bags from the lockers, slipping them over one shoulder and placing his free hand on the small of my back.

“Come on, you can eat it on the way to the gardens.”