Take a Chance on Me (16 page)

“No, it’s not,” I whispered. “Nia’s the one.” I was as sure of this as I was of my own name. I’d half fallen for her before we’d ever even met. I’d imprinted on her, like some species of bird or something, the first time I saw her walk by the gym. And Friday night in my apartment sealed the deal. She owned my heart.

How Nia felt, though, I could only guess. Especially after yesterday and that whole fuckup at the bakery.

I was still mad about it. Far angrier at myself than at her because I’d been feeling so fiercely attached and protective of her. Because I’d wanted to challenge her and make her admit what I already knew to be true…that we belonged together. And because I was so easily hurt by the implication that her family wouldn’t like me. I’d never been prone to insecurity. But then again, I’d never cared this much before. For once, the stakes were really high.

“Okay, Chance, let’s say you’re right. You two are perfect for each other. What’s the issue that has you talking to
me
instead of to
her?
I mean, if you know everything already, why do you need my advice?”

“You don’t need to be snotty about it.”

My sister only rolled her eyes at me. “Just spill, will you?”

I took a few deep breaths, trying to think of how best to phrase it. I knew I had to tread carefully when it came to Sharlene. I intended to be honest, but she was sensitive to anything that smacked of infidelity in a relationship. Her ex-husband Stephen had made the mistake of cheating on her, and she’d kicked his ass to the curb the very day she found out. Blake, who’d stood up in their wedding, took it personally as well, and he gave the jerk a pair of black eyes for daring to mess with our sister. (But then, Blake kind of liked fighting.)

In any case, I didn’t want Shar to know there was another guy involved. Grant Jordan—the dickhead—wasn’t the real problem anyway, much as I wished I could blame him. I’d believed Nia when she said she was planning to break up with him. I guess I was just jealous that her family liked him so much and that they might be thinking I wasn’t good enough for her.

“It’s her parents,” I told my sister. “Nia thinks it’s going to take a really long time for them to like me. That it’s ‘complicated’ and ‘difficult’ and shit like that. And I don’t understand it.”

Shar, to my annoyance, laughed. “Are you kidding? Mr. and Mrs. Pappayiannis are sweethearts. Have you ever talked with them?”

“Briefly.”

“Were you on your best behavior, Chance? Or were you being your usual terse self?”

“Terse?” I repeated. “I was polite, of course. You know I’m not someone who…jabbers at people.”

“Yeah, I know,” she said. “But were you making an effort to be a bit more, um, effusive in your praise of things? You know, the fine food they serve at The Gala, the lovely atmosphere of their establishment, the wonderful qualities of their daughter?”

I stared at her. “What?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t think so…”

“Look, I want to be real with Nia and with her family. I’m not going to act all superficial and pretend I’m someone I’m not. That would backfire in the long run anyway. I mean, I’m not a billionaire, but I have a decent income. I live simply by choice. Maybe that doesn’t come across as successful enough to them, but would they rather I tried to buy their daughter’s affection? That would be ridiculous. And I don’t dress in designer suits because I prefer to wear sweats and sneakers, and that’s what’s required for my job. But maybe that’s not flashy enough. It’s not like I refuse to dress appropriately for formal situations, but when I’m just walking around through the middle of town, I’m not going to—”

“Whoa, Chance, slow down and take your pulse or something. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you rant for this long about anything.”

I started to stand up. “Sharlene—”

“Just listen to me for five seconds, okay?” She paused and waited for me to sit back down.

“Your brothers and I—
we
all know your emotions run deep. But someone who’s a new acquaintance, like Nia’s mom or dad, or someone in town who hasn’t known you for half their lives, they might mistake your desire to be
genuine
for standoffishness or extreme reserve.”

“Because I’m not always hugging people or getting in their face by kissing their cheeks or slapping their backs or acting all excited about some kind of pastry or something?” The direction of this conversation was starting to really tick me off.

My sister nodded slowly. “Yes. And keep in mind, Nia’s family is Greek and quite traditional. She and her brother are first-generation Americans. You need to take her upbringing into consideration. Learn to understand and respect the culture. The cheek kissing and the back slapping and the food excitement, those are all signs of welcoming and openness. If you ever want to have a hope of being included in her family, you can’t dismiss her heritage and customs. It’s a big part of who she is.”

I thought back to that day at the gym when Nia brought in that spinach pie—the
spanakopita
—for me to taste. It had meant a lot to her that I was willing to try it, and it seemed to make her happy that I’d liked it. A kind of acceptance, I guess. “Okay, that makes some sense,” I admitted.

Shar smiled. “Glad to hear it. You know, you’re not that far off track. You can still be real with Nia and her family. It sounds like what you feel for her is completely sincere, right? So, you just need to show your emotions in a way that she and her parents will be able to recognize and read clearly. Maybe consider
amplifying
your emotions a little, so that they’ll be slightly more obvious. I know you prefer being the strong, silent, and extraordinarily subtle type, but…”

I actually laughed at this. Perhaps my sister had a small but valid point. Although I would have felt better if Nia had at least tried to call me or text me or something. Last night. Or this morning. Anything to show me that she cared, too.

Shar’s eyes were suddenly misty, though, and I didn’t know why at first. Then she said, “I miss our parents a lot. With Mother’s Day coming up so soon, I’m especially missing Mom right now. But I know how proud she’d be to see you finally opening yourself up to love, Chance. You and Chandler always had such different ways of dealing with everything—especially grief. Even as kids. Our brother would express every fleeting feeling, but you tended to keep so much to yourself.”

I nodded. She was right about that as well.

“So I know your willingness to risk emotion now is a big step for you,” she said. “Maybe take some time for yourself, if you need it, to figure out exactly what you feel for Nia and how to say it to her. Then meet up with her privately and lay it all out. You can’t expect her to be able to just read your mind, like we do.” She paused and added more sugar to her coffee, which totally didn’t need any additional sweetening. But I knew better than to tell Shar something like that. She’d throw the sugar bowl at me.

This talk about the loss of our parents made me think of Shar’s newly widowed friend, Julia Crane. So I asked, “How Julia been doing? What’s it been, four months since Dr. Crane died?”

“Almost five,” my sister said. “She’s holding her own, but it’s been really hard. I’ve got some plans for her for this summer, though, when her daughter’s away at camp. Julia needs to get out soon. Meet some new people.”

Shar’s answer to almost everything was to ‘get people together,’ so I wasn’t at all surprised when she told me she had a Michaelsen family gathering planned for the upcoming weekend.

“Friday night, my place,” she said. “We’re just going to talk and have pizza and beer. Be there.”

“Fine,” I said, though I couldn’t guarantee how much I’d feel like talking.

Then she asked me about my twin…the one who was currently roaming around the East Coast, where, in Shar’s opinion, he didn’t belong. “Anything new from Chandler?” she said. “Has he called or texted?”

“Talked to him last night,” I reluctantly admitted. I didn’t lie to my siblings, even when it would be preferable.

Her brows rose. “And?”

“And he was drunk. Somewhere in the middle of Georgia.”

“Damn,” she muttered. “We need to get that guy to come home to us.”

“I know, Sis. I know.” And I was speaking the truth, but I had no freakin’ idea how we’d get him back to Mirabelle Harbor anytime soon.

~*~

After spending the morning with my sister, I went to the gym so I could think while working out. I did some lifting, some stair-stepping, some running, and a bunch of other exercises in an attempt to get a clear head.

It wasn’t working. Not indoors. And especially not with so many things around that reminded me of Nia. The treadmills. The hand weights. The exercise balls. The sauna.

Much as I wanted to see her tomorrow afternoon for her session, the idea of trying to be a good fitness instructor for her while I was still so unsure of what to say left me with a sucky, uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach. I needed to be prepared this time so I wouldn’t screw up again.

Besides that, I always felt it was best to keep professional relationships and personal ones separate. In all good conscience—and because I wanted a
very
personal relationship with Nia—I didn’t feel it was right to continue on as her trainer anyway. So, I asked a fellow trainer at the gym, who was currently free during that time, to take on the last few sessions with her. I also knew I needed to do something else.

“Three days off?” Gillian said at the front desk when I handed in my vacation request form.
“You?
I don’t think you’ve taken even
one
vacation day since I started working here. Two-and-a-half
years
ago. What are you doing? Planning to run a marathon in Australia or something?”

I leveled my least friendly stare at her and shook my head.

She just laughed. “I’m serious, though! Where the hell are you going? Everyone will want to know.”

“Just taking time to commune with nature,” I said sarcastically.

“Hiking? Biking?” she guessed.

“A little of both.”
And a lot of thinking.

“All right. Well, we’ve got a few trainers open to subbing, so it shouldn’t be a problem getting some people lined up for you. Have fun, Chance.”

“Thanks.”

~Nia~

I arrived at the gym five minutes before my usual two o’clock workout time on Monday afternoon. I’d been looking forward to seeing Chance again in person. There was a lot we needed to discuss, not the least of which was the tension between us during our conversation at The Gala on Saturday.

Yesterday, I’d almost called him. To tell him about my official breakup with Grant. And that I’d talked to my mother about how much I liked him. And that the marriage pressure thing was a big part of what had me so on edge.

But I chickened out.

Chance seemed like the type of guy who needed to cool down in his own time before he could talk to anyone. And I figured I would just play things by ear based on how he handled our session today. Would he be all business? Or would there be a glimmer of that quiet passion I’d come to recognize in those golden eyes of his?

Turned out, it was neither. He wasn’t there.

“But
where
is he?” I asked the lady at the desk. Gillian.

“In the wilderness,” she said with an eye roll. “He’s ‘communing with nature,’ or so he said.”

Since when? He hadn’t told me he was going anywhere.

“When will he be back? Tomorrow? Wednesday?” He wasn’t going to miss
two
of our sessions, was he?

She shook her head. “Not ’til Thursday, but Chance already set you up with a new personal trainer.” She shot me a friendly grin, as if I should consider this news a good thing, rather than a grave disappointment. “Here, I’ll introduce you to him. Smike!” she called.

And a bald and burly 350-pound man emerged from the employees’ lounge. He was built like a locomotive, and he didn’t even crack a smile when he saw me. “Hello, Nia,” he said, reaching out to shake my hand. “I’m Smike. That’s short for ‘Small Mike.’ I’m the little guy in my family.” Then he sort of smiled—finally.

I nodded. Okay, he wasn’t Chance Michaelsen, but he seemed nice enough. I could handle this. “Hi, Smike,” I said. “It’s great to meet you. So, we’ll be working together today and Wednesday, right? Until Chance returns?”

“Nope. I’ll be finishing out the rest of your sessions. Chance made an alternate arrangement for you.”

“W-What? But why?” I squeaked out.

Smike tilted his shaved head. “Don’t know. He just told me he felt I’d be a better fit for you as a trainer. That you should have consistency for the second half of your program. But don’t worry. I’ve got his notes.” He patted the clipboard in his hand. “Says here you need to do some work with the five-pound free weights first. And that you’re not a fan of the reverse fly, so we should minimize that one.”

It made my heart ache that Chance remembered personal things about me. That he’d taken the time to write them down so his colleague would know that, too. But, most of all, I wanted to cry because he wasn’t here with me. Because our last conversation had been one where he’d been so mad and so hurt that he’d stormed out. Uncharacteristic of him, I knew. And because I’d been too cowardly to call him yesterday when I’d had the opportunity. It hadn’t occurred to me that he might just…leave.