Her Imaginary Husband (Contemporary Romance) by Lia London Page B

looked at Robert. He looked back with sad puppy dog eyes and a twitch of mischief at the corner of his mouth. He was just trying to lighten my mood after the Nyman thing—the little pest . Suddenly, all of the tension of Nikki’s morning escaped in the form of one large laugh. “Yes, sir. That’s exactly why Robert was sent to the office.”
    “Huh?”
    “Between bad hair and bad jokes, I’m the worst offender for the day.”
    Mr. Geoffreys squinted with confusion. “So…?”
    Nikki waved Robert to come closer. He approached with a sheepish smirk, and she messed his hair up. “There. Now we’re even. Thank you, Mr. Geoffreys. It’s all good now.”
     
    
     
    That afternoon, Nikki slipped into the corner of the manly-man part of the gym where all the strutters lifted massive weights twice and spent the rest of the time talking about protein shakes and grunting at each other. The music blasted loudly enough that no one would hear her work the punching bag, and the leg press that hid her from view was still out of order.
    She wound the cloth tape around her knuckles, adjusting the tightness and surveying the other occupants of the room. Jim was in his sixties with about two percent body fat. As far as Nikki could tell, he lived at the gym, and he could out perform any young buck in the place, even though he was a head shorter. He’s safe. His wife is probably taking Zumba Gold right now. There was a pair of guys from the Trench basketball team according to their t-shirts. They took turns doing ridiculously difficult variations on a pull-up. Nikki knew she had seen Jim do the same moves before many times, and it made her smile. One of the guys caught the smile and instantly upped his swag.
    Oh great. He thinks I was checking him out, and now he’s checking me out. She decided to start punching. Jab, cross, hook, cross, upper cut, upper cut, slide back roundhouse kick. After a few repetitions, she ventured a glance at the roosters. They were, indeed, watching her—one with horror, and one with amusement. She upped the intensity, dedicating each new round to a source of annoyance. This one’s for Nyman. This one’s for Mom. This one’s for all those years of Flip-Flop Man. This one’s for all those years without Craig. She stopped, breathing hard, and rested her forearm on the bag. Sweat mingled with tears. I’m tired of being alone, but it’s better to be alone than to be with the wrong person.
    The roosters approached, so she launched into another round with a ferocious yell. They quickly diverted their path and went to drain the water cooler instead.

17~Shaboobaloo
     
    “Hello?” croaked Nikki. Who is calling this early on a Saturday?!
    “You forgot to sign up to bring something.”
    “Gayle? Is that you?”
    “Of course. You’re coming to the barbecue, right?”
    “I…uh, sure. Wait, when is it?” She sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.
    “One o’clock at the Eastmont City Park. Can you bring some kind of pasta salad or something savory and cold?”
    Nikki yawned and thought how much she didn’t feel like cooking today. “How about tortilla chips and homemade salsa?” She had several jars in her cupboard already.
    “Perfect,” said Gayle cheerfully. “And you’re bringing your husband, right?”
    Nikki jerked awake and glanced at the empty space beside her on the bed. The space that had always been empty.
    “Uh, I don’t think so. I kinda need to talk to you about that.” Nikki opened and closed her mouth like a fish. This needs to be a face-to-face discussion. I’m lying to the woman who gave me the nice job. I hate this. I hate this!! “Where is the park?” asked Nikki, eager to change the subject.
    “Got something to write with? I’ll give you the address.”
    Nikki reached for the pencil that she kept with a pad of paper beside her bed in case inspiration for anything struck in the middle of the night. The moment she lifted the pencil, Meriwether, curled there