Christmas with my Three Best Friends (Lucky Lady Reverse Harems)

Chapter 13

13

Marius

I t’s been hours since Shay and I spoke. Hours since Vincent had the audacity to try and come back into her life. I know what he’s doing and how he intends to pull it off, but I can’t get involved. If Shay wants to be with us, it needs to be her decision all the way through. I can’t intervene; otherwise it’ll feel like I pulled when she wanted to tug. It will lead to resentments and bitterness in the future. My previous relationships have taught me that much.

Even so, the prospective heartache hovers over my head like a looming shadow. A quiet promise of sleepless nights and misery as I try to imagine my life without Shay in it. It took us forever and one massive chunk of dumb luck for us to get closer in the first place. The balance we have is still a fragile and fickle thing, easy to break and to lose because there’s four of us in this relationship. Four of us constantly lying to ourselves that it’s strictly physical. That none of us want more, and that it would never work out in the long term.

Yet I can see it in Shay’s eyes. And Jax’s and Richard’s, too. We all want more and need more from this dynamic of ours. Vincent popping up like a sore pimple feels like the universe’s way of telling us it’s not going to be easy. I struggle with doubts of my own, despite my heart and my body constantly screaming for Shay. It’s unusual for us to go six hours in the same space without talking or at least cracking a joke. Something is definitely happening here, something none of us planned yet is something we will all have to contend with. Jax and Richard know about Vincent’s return. I made sure they knew as soon as Shay went back to her office. Neither is happy about it. So, that makes four of us.

I stare at Shay for a while. My clients are busy on the leg machines. One of them is counting reps on the leg press while the other is struggling with weighted Bulgarian split squats. Oddly enough, both are young males, yet Shay pushes and lifts better than them. I make a habit of teasing them on the matter, but I can’t even joke anymore—not as I watch her alternate between running and active walking at a higher angle on the treadmill. I can tell she’s not herself. Her shoulders are tight and her steps seem heavy. Her mind isn’t fully into the exercise, but she does her best to finish her forty minutes like this.

“Keep going, Phil,” I tell my client as he struggles with an added weight to his leg press. “You did way more last week and didn’t bat an eye.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t do it with a hangover,” he replies.

“Hey, I didn’t force you to go out last night and chug all those beers,” I shoot back with a cold grin.

Phil is in his early forties and zigzagging through a midlife crisis that recently culminated with a messy divorce, but he is eager to do more for himself—for his vanity and his health. Yet there are moments when he gives into his older habits due to peer pressure, and I always make sure to remind him there’s a price to pay. I never tell him not to drink or enjoy something that gives him joy and comfort, but I often advise on moderation, especially before training day. At least he takes it like a man and pushes through with his set on the leg press, beads of sweat covering his reddened face.

“Well done!” I tell him, then turn my attention to Dave, my other client. He’s almost twenty-five and wiry, a late bloomer still struggling to build his muscle mass. “How many reps did you do this time?”

“Fifteen,” he says.

“Good. Keep going on the next set but try to bend that knee more. You need a deeper drop,” I reply.

Dave looks at me as if I just told him to hit himself in the nuts with the dumbbell he’s squatting with. “Dude, my knees are killing me…”

“And that’s why a hip-and-ankle-mobility warm-up routine is essential,” I reply bluntly.

He knows I’m right and he knows I don’t make a habit of forcing my clients to do something they don’t want to do. Nevertheless, I still enjoy yanking his chain whenever I get the chance.

Movement by the door has me turning my head. My heart stops for a moment.

Roxanne walks in wearing tight pink shorts and a matching top. Petite but exceptionally fit, her black hair is pulled into a tight bun on the top of her head and her piercing brown eyes scan the gym room until they find me. Almost instantly, I’m hit by the intensity of her glare, the weight of her unexpected presence knocking the air out of my lungs.

“What is this, Exes Day?” I mutter to myself.

I steal a glance at Shay, content to see her still on the treadmill and in the middle of an uphill sprint. I only hope she doesn’t notice Roxanne anytime soon. It’s not like I can send the woman away, though I didn’t think she’d come back after the uncomfortable separation we went through in October.

“Hey, Marius,” Roxanne says with a warm smile.

I can certainly remember what drew me to her. She was like a sweet wine—easy to drink but gave me a horrible hangover. Nothing came easy with her. I tried so hard to please her, I damn near isolated myself from everybody purely for the sake of managing her jealousy… only for it to blow up in my face. She walked out on me so many times, I’m genuinely surprised to see her walking toward me now.

“I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Only a few months,” I reply politely, fully aware that some of those present in the gym know precisely who Roxanne is. They witnessed one of her jealous fits. I still shudder as I remember that evening and entire episode. I should’ve closed the door then, but I was dumb enough to let her back in a couple of weeks later. “How’ve you been, Roxanne?”

“Oh, it’s been a bit of a rollercoaster,” she says, laughing lightly and taking another step forward. The distance between us is getting smaller, and I don’t like it. I don’t want Shay to see her taking up so much space. “I went to therapy. Resolved many of my issues… I know I was a handful, Marius, but I’ve grown.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“In fact, I’m glad I ran into you. I wanted to apologize for my behavior,” Roxanne says. “I was so insecure about myself that I took it out on you, over and over until I pushed you into another woman’s arms…”

I shake my head and cross my arms, if only to give her a subtle idea not to take another step toward me. “You didn’t push me into anyone else’s arms, Roxanne. I simply decided it was time for things to end between us. It was better and healthier.”

“So you’re not seeing anybody?” she lights up.

“I didn’t say that.”

Her mask cracks, just for a second. The darkness returns to her eyes. The silent rage bubbles beneath the surface, and I begin to wonder how much of what she has just told me is even true. Or maybe she just hasn’t come across a good therapist. Her gaze bounces around the room, as if searching for someone—my significant other, most likely. Roxanne’s habits haven’t changed much, clearly.

“Well, either way, I hope you’re happy,” she says, her voice melting into a heavy sigh. “I know what I had and what I lost. I just hope the new woman in your life doesn’t make the same mistake.”

“Thank you for your kind words, Roxanne,” I reply. I also make the mistake of glancing to my right just in time to meet Shay’s gaze in the wall mirror mounted in front of her treadmill. My blood runs cold, and my brain refuses to process what’s happening. How do I regain control of a situation I can’t even ascertain as dangerous or just unpleasant? “So, what brings you back here?”

She follows my point of focus just before I shift it back to her, and I can tell she saw and registered Shay as a potential competitor—which is simply inane, since Roxanne doesn’t stand a single chance with me. Not anymore. Not after the energy I burned and the misery she provoked in my life, even though I was always faithful and completely devoted to her.

“I decided to come back to the gym,” Roxanne says. “It’s a good habit to pick up again and to keep. I need to look after myself, both body and mind, and working out was always such a booster for me.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” I reply politely. “I’ll get out of your way, then. I’ve got two clients I need to keep an eye on.”

Roxanne places a hand on my upper arm, gently gripping the muscle as she smiles again. “I was hoping you might help me with a training plan. Or at least tell me what to work on today, given it’s my first day back in… oh, almost four months!”

I stare at her in genuine disbelief, praying for the gods to unclench her hand. But she keeps it there, her touch firm yet tender, lips persisting in their willing smile. Shay’s presence has me on edge, though, and I don’t want her to get the wrong idea—not after the uncomfortable conversation we had about Vincent earlier, so I pull back and step away from Roxanne before I point her to one of the leg machines.

“You could start there after you do your usual warm-up,” I tell her. “Three sets of fifteen reps each. Use the first three weights, though. Don’t overwork yourself.”

“Oh, thank you, Marius. You’re always so kind and helpful. Even if I don’t deserve it.”

“Don’t worry about it, Roxanne. It’s my job.”

She giggles and goes over to the machine. My blood reaches its boiling point as I turn around and see Shay slowing down on the treadmill. Her t-shirt is drenched in sweat, her cheeks crimson and her blonde hair puffy and curlier after a good workout. The look in her eyes punches me right in the gut. It’s dismay. Pure and simple. Dismay. Disappointment. Irritation. It’s definitely not one of our better days, and neither of us chose this.

“Like this?” Roxanne asks as she takes her seat and slips her legs beneath the padded press.

“Yeah. Fifteen reps.”

Shay gets off the treadmill and gives herself a minute under the AC vent to cool off faster as she pats her face dry with a small towel. I watch her in silence, admiring her curves and the way her thigh muscles twitch when she shifts her weight from one foot to the other. I remember our previous night together, the round shape of her gorgeous ass as I bent her over and gave her everything I had. I remember the raspy sound she makes during her climax, the dark look in her eyes when we look at each other, when I let go inside her, and she welcomes every drop.

I remember her steady breathing as she sleeps in my arms. Her colorful laughter. Her relentlessness in everything she sets out to do. This is a fierce woman I’ve come across, the kind of woman I can built a good life with.

I glance back at Roxanne, sensing old anxieties bubbling back to the surface. The uncertainty. The uneasiness. Love isn’t supposed to feel the way it felt with Roxanne. It’s supposed to be tranquil and energizing, uplifting and sweet. The way it is with Shay.

But the tension that has arisen between us since our exes somehow picked the same day to pop back into the picture is impossible to dismiss. We weren’t ready for any of it. I think we’re both trying to prove to ourselves and each other that we are over our pasts. We’ve been friends for so long. These are things we’ve talked about.

I can feel the discomfort, though. Hers and mine. They’re on a similar wavelength.

It worries me.