Greg’s T-shirt was draped over a kitchen chair even though he’d been wearing it when my sister arrived. By the time he told Brittany she was lucky to have a brother-in-law worth admiring, I knew his confidence needed a mirror. So I went upstairs and brought back something with his exact words on it.
The first time Greg walked into the kitchen shirtless while my sister was there, I didn’t think much of it.
Brittany and I were at the table with coffee, two laptops, and a spreadsheet that insisted our small business had sold twelve more units than we actually possessed.
I didn’t think much of it.
Greg came in sweaty from a workout.
No shirt.
Just sweatpants and sneakers.
“Hey, Brittany.”
“Hey.”
She immediately returned to her laptop.
Greg made a protein shake, drank half of it while standing at the counter, then disappeared upstairs.
Just sweatpants and sneakers.
Brittany looked at me.
I looked at her.
Neither of us said anything.
It was his house.
He’d just exercised.
Fine.
And honestly, I was proud of him.
He’d just exercised.
***
At forty-eight, Greg had recently decided he wanted to take better care of himself. He joined a gym, changed the way he ate, and lost almost forty-five pounds.
