50 Harbor Street - Debbie Macomber [75]
When she turned around, Bruce was standing in the doorway. “You okay?” he asked.
She was going to lie, to shrug it off, but couldn’t. “No, not really,” she finally said.
He slipped his arms around her for a gentle hug and she rested her head against his shoulder.
Thirty
“Jack!” Olivia complained, sitting on the end of their bed. “When are you going to start using that treadmill?” She hated to nag, but he’d been procrastinating ever since Christmas morning, when she’d unveiled her gift. Although he’d made an effort to look pleased, she’d seen the disappointment in his eyes.
“I will,” he said, sauntering out from the bathroom in his underwear. “Soon.”
“You promised to start last week.”
“I know, I know.” He had the resigned look of a convicted man on his way out of the courtroom and into jail. His eyes brightened. “I don’t have anything to wear.”
“Jack, you know darned well that I got you a pair of sweats. Don’t tell me you forgot, either.”
“I didn’t forget,” he admitted, “but I don’t feel right sweating in brand-new clothes.”
“Jack Griffin, that’s the most ridiculous excuse I’ve ever heard. Enough. Exercise.”
“Now?” he gasped.
“Now!”
“But I’ve got to get to the office.”
“Not until you’ve walked a mile, minimum.”
“A mile?”
“You’ll be too tired tonight after work.”
“I might not be,” he said hopefully, looking more than a little ridiculous as he pouted while standing in their bedroom wearing only his underwear and dark socks.
“You’re walking, Jack.”
Olivia was through listening to his excuses. The week following Christmas was too soon, Jack had said, but right after New Year’s, he’d be on that treadmill every morning. Olivia had foolishly believed him. It was already the second week of January and he had yet to plug it in. Olivia wasn’t leaving this room until he began walking.
“I’m actually not feeling that well.”
She rolled her eyes.
Grumbling under his breath, Jack opened his bottom drawer and pulled out the gray sweatpants and shirt. “I hope you’re happy,” he muttered as he returned to the bathroom.
“You’ll feel much better when you finish.”
“If I live.”
“Very funny,” she said. “Start slow and increase your speed gradually. Don’t overdo it,” she advised. He refused to look at her, but Olivia felt only mildly guilty when she followed him into the bathroom. “Grace and I complain every week about aerobics class, but we both feel good afterward. You will, too.”
“If you say so.” Jack sat on the edge of the bathtub to lace up his sneakers.
“Tell you what,” Olivia said. “I’ll make you breakfast while you’re walking.”
Jack smiled for the first time that morning. “Bacon, eggs, two slices of toast. Wheat,” he added, knowing she disapproved of white bread.
“Oatmeal.”
“Oatmeal,” he spewed back.
“With raisins, but only if you stop your complaining.”
The grumbling was back and, despite herself, Olivia laughed. He was being so childish about this.
“Call the office for me, would you?” he said as he walked back into the bedroom, giving her a list of instructions. One would think he was going to be away for a week instead of an hour. Standing in front of the treadmill, he stared at it, as if searching for one last chance to avoid this.
After a moment, he apparently reached a decision and plugged it in, then stepped onto the flatbed. Frowning at the display panel, he began pushing buttons.
“Don’t you want to read the instruction book first?” she suggested.
He ignored her. The machine made a loud humming noise and started moving, nearly throwing Jack off his feet. Olivia swallowed a hoot of laughter, knowing he wouldn’t appreciate her reaction.
Given no option but to move with the machine, he began walking. But after a few minutes, he was huffing and puffing, reconfirming the fact that he was in terrible shape. Olivia wanted to tell him to slow down, but she could see Jack wasn’t in a listening frame of mind.
Retreating to the kitchen, she heard the hum of the treadmill in the background as she put water on