Arthur’s hair was messy from sleep, and she could still see a crease from his pillow on his face. It was nice of him to wake up so early to drive her to Lake Geneva. He stood by the front door holding a plaid thermos filled with coffee. “Do you really have to go back?”

“It’s my job,” she said.

“Stay. I want to be your job.”

“It’s not like you’ll never see me again.”

The resort had a very small gym downstairs with a few treadmills, a vibrating belt to put around your waist, a tanning lamp, and a sauna. Mondays the gym was closed, but Danny had a key and had told Sherri that he’d sneak down and open it for her at seven so that she could sit in the sauna and sweat off any extra ounces before the morning weigh-in. Sherri wanted to become as dehydrated as a piece of old fruit. She would miss Arthur, but she couldn’t wait to get back to work, and back to her own life.

The closer they got to the resort, the more the lightness she’d experienced at Arthur’s disappeared, like a chord change from major to minor. Her empty stomach felt like it was twisting into knots. Her eye began to twitch, and she jiggled her leg.

“Nervous about weigh-in?” Arthur asked, sensing her tension. Normally she loved that he was closely tuned in to her, but that morning her anxiety sealed her into herself. She didn’t want to have to explain it. As usual, everything was so new to her that she couldn’t articulate how she felt, even if she wanted to.

“I keep thinking about that evil scale.”

“They shouldn’t weigh you. You look great. You’d look great even if you gained ten pounds. A hundred! More for me to—” He smiled and blushed. The word “love” hung in the air unsaid, exciting and potent—too exciting, too potent. At any other time in her life her stomach would have flipped. Now it churned.