The Personal Trainer – Part 2: Week Twelve

The kiss on Thursday had been brief, a question and an answer. The second kiss, on the Sunday after, was on the beach at dusk, with Sean's shirt over his shoulder and the sea rushing in around their ankles.

"We're supposed to be sensible," said Gabriela, against his mouth.

"I'm extremely sensible," said Sean. "I've counted every rep we've done together. There are four hundred and twelve."

"You've been counting our kisses too?"

"Only the good ones," said Sean. "And you'll notice I haven't counted this one yet."

They stayed on the sand until the stars came out, talking about nothing important: his mother's bad cooking, her sister's worse dating advice, a dog they both wanted and neither could keep in a tiny flat.

On the Monday of the final week, the wedding invitation arrived in her inbox, with a photograph of the venue and a line of text she had read so many times she knew it by heart.

Sean found her on the sea wall with her phone in her hand.

"You're going, aren't you?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know," said Gabriela. "I wanted to walk in there looking strong. Now I think I just want to walk in as myself."

"Then go as yourself," said Sean. "And if it helps, I'll come, and stand at the back, and count the seconds until you can leave."

She laughed, wet-eyed. "That's the worst offer I've ever had."

"It's a very practical offer," said Sean.

On the day of the wedding, Gabriela wore a simple blue dress and trainers she'd bought that morning. She walked into the hotel garden and saw her ex, smiling, nervous, at the altar. He saw her too, and looked surprised, and then relieved.

"Gabby," he said. "You look amazing."

"I know," said Gabriela. "I've been working very hard."

She congratulated him. She meant it, to her own surprise. Then she turned and walked to the back of the garden, where Sean was leaning against a palm tree, a paper cup of lemonade in each hand.

"Well?" he said.

"I'm not crying," said Gabriela.

"Good. I've been counting, and you're at zero tears."

She laughed, and took the lemonade, and felt the sun warm on her shoulders.

Later, on the beach, as the wedding music faded behind them, Sean sat with her on the sand.

"Can I ask you something?" he said.

"Yes."

"Do you want to start something with me? Not because of him. Not because of the wedding. Because you like how I count your reps?"

Gabriela looked at him. The sea was turning gold, and his face was open and nervous and entirely kind.

"Yes," she said. "I want to start with you. Green?"

"Green," said Sean, and kissed her, slow and certain, while the waves came in softly over their feet.