When I was six months pregnant, my husband said he wanted to get me a prenatal Pilates membership.
But when we went into the studio to register, his so-called “brother” Vanessa Lopez gave him a mischievous grin and asked:
“Danny, did you tell the front desk girl that your sex life with your wife is so unsatisfying you need me to ‘help out’?”
I glared at Daniel Miller, thinking he would shut down Vanessa’s crude joke.
Instead, he chuckled, threw an arm around her shoulders, and said:
“What, you planning to help me out again today?”
They joked openly as if I didn’t even exist.
Behind me, the receptionist stifled a laugh and asked me:
“Ma’am, would you like to add some classes on tightening your private muscles?”
Swallowing my fury, I forced a smile.
“Of course, why not? Add a few more for me.”
Maybe she caught the anger in my tone.
Vanessa grabbed a Pilates ball and tossed it at Daniel.
“Danny, stop laughing. Don’t you see your wife’s mad? Go coax her.”
Daniel caught the ball with a grin, squeezing it in his hands.
“She doesn’t get angry that easily.”
He smirked and added, “By the way, is this ball for training that flat chest of yours? Gotta admit, it feels pretty good.”
Vanessa pinched Daniel’s butt playfully.
“Good feel? Not as good as your ass! I could grab both cheeks at once.”
Then she leaned close to me, raising an eyebrow.
“Sis-in-law, we’re just messing around. By ‘helping,’ I meant taking him fishing. I didn’t think you’d take it the wrong way.”
I gave a cold laugh.
“The wrong way? I didn’t take it wrong. Or does your kind of ‘helping’ mean something else?”
Vanessa’s smile froze for a second, a flicker of anger flashing in her eyes.
“Geez, I forgot—you’re still a sensitive girl. Unlike me, a rough tomboy who spends all day talking dirty jokes with Daniel. My bad, my bad.”
Daniel frowned, stepping protectively toward her and scolding me:
“Babe, seriously? You’re mad over something this small?”
That sentence was like a spark igniting my rage.
“Small? My husband flirting with another woman—you call that small?”
Daniel’s face darkened.
“Vanessa’s a shareholder here. She was doing you a favor giving you a discount, and you just had to embarrass her in front of the staff?”
I gave a humorless laugh. Group Pilates classes cost $499, but the membership was $299.
All this fuss over two hundred dollars? And I was supposed to be grateful?
I pulled my Amex Black Card out of my Chanel bag and slapped it on the counter.
“I could hire ten private trainers with this. Don’t tell me you’ve been flirting with her for a week just for a lousy two-hundred-dollar discount. Who’s embarrassing who here?”
I swiped the card smoothly, turned, and walked out.
But Daniel grabbed my wrist so hard the veins bulged in my arm.
“Emily Carter, this isn’t about two hundred bucks! I owe my brother a favor. You apologize to her right now!”
Vanessa played peacemaker, tugging him away and pretending to blow gently on my wrist like she was concerned.
“Danny, you forgot the last time you pressed me down on the yacht deck and bruised my wrist? You never know how to be gentle.”
Then she turned to me with a fake smile.
“Don’t mind him, sis-in-law. He just loves standing up for me.”
I gave a bitter laugh. Wasn’t this a fine performance? Almost like I was the outsider here.
I stormed into the elevator, and the moment the doors closed, the tears I’d been holding back spilled down my cheeks.
