Page 30 of One Last Run

Pete shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

The idea of Pete on an expert-expert run made something squeeze with worry inside her chest. "Be careful," Danica said.

Pete gave her a thoughtful look, as if trying to figure out the meaning of Danica's tone. "We will be. I promise."

Danica awokein a strange place for the second time that day, except she was face down on a massage table and a stranger was gently patting her shoulder. Dammit, falling asleep during a massage was the worst. Despite the relaxation, the lack of a tense-to-relaxed transition left her feeling unsatisfied.

"I'm going to step out while you get dressed," the soft-spoken massage therapist said before stepping through the door.

Danica sat up, feeling much less sore than she had that morning. Stretching, she felt a lingering tightness in her abs, a welcome contrast to the loose, amazing feeling in her shoulders and legs. She was a different woman than the Danica that had hobbled into the shop earlier, wincing with each step.

She dressed and checked her phone, noticing that her colleague Annie had sent her a positive update about her favorite patient. Smiling to herself, she turned off her phone and wiped at the drool on her cheek, before the massage therapist cameback in to escort her to her pedicure. Skipping the facial for an extra thirty minutes of massage had sounded like a great idea, but really, she'd just paid to have a nap.

Keira already sat in one of the pedicure chairs with a magazine across her lap. "Well, good morning, sunshine," she said, smiling as she looked at to Danica. "Have a nice nap?"

"You could tell?" Danica questioned, flattening her thick, sleep-tousled hair, feeling self-conscious.

"You have your woke-up-cranky look on your face," Kiera said with a knowing grin. "Which means you probably feel unsatisfied about missing out on the whole massage experience, if I know you.”

Danica shook her head, climbing into the pedicure chair beside her friend and placing her feet in the warm, bubbling water. "If you ever get tired of being a middle school science teacher, you should be a detective."

"Nah, fuck the police," Kiera said blandly, flipping a page in her magazine.

Danica snorted a laugh. "Maybe a private investigator. A professional stalker, if you will."

Kiera appeared thoughtful, her brow creased. "That does sound appealing. Maybe I missed my calling."

The nail technician offered them both beverages, and they ordered mimosas for themselves and Maggie.

Maggie walked through a doorway from a small room on one end of the salon. Her dewy skin was pink and moisturized, and she walked over to the pedicure chair on Danica's other side. "There's our Sleeping Beauty,” she said. “I could hear your snores for my entire facial."

"Could you really?!" Horrified, Danica looked from one friend to another, and Kiera smiled at her, shaking her head gently.

"I'm kidding. You think I could hear anything over the Enya playing in that room?" Maggie said while adjusting settings on the pedicure chair and turning on the massagers.

"Not all spa music is Enya," Danica corrected, flipping through the nail color booklet hooked to the side of the chair.

"Yeah, but all Enyaisspa music, so, like, am I really wrong?" Maggie said.

"She does make a good point," Kiera said, flipping another page in her magazine. Two technicians brought the women mimosas, then sat down at Kiera and Danica's feet to start their service.

"So, I think we'd all like to know what exactly is going on with you and Pete," Maggie stated, rolling her pant legs up further as she settled into the foot bath.

"Nothing," Danica said, the single word hanging heavy in the silent air.

Maggie watched her with a knowing look. "Kiera said you guys were making out at karaoke."

"We were not," Danica protested, her voice pitching embarrassingly high.

Kiera playfully scowled at Maggie. "Maggie! You weren’t supposed to talk about that.”

"I had an abortion in October," Maggie said, holding up her glass. “There, how’s that for things we’re not talking about?”

Danica took a moment to study Maggie’s face, watching her friend for any sign of feeling. "Are we sorry or are we... okay?" At 21, an abortion would have been an easy choice for any of them, but Maggie was 37 and married to a woman. Therefore, any pregnancy was likely intended and wanted.

“I’m okay,” Maggie said, though her smile didn’t touch her eyes.

“What happened?” Kiera asked quietly.

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