Game of Hearts by Kathryn J. Bain

almost white as he walked to the game room. After he paused to glance over at Brandon and Anthony, he tapped Matthew on his shoulder and spoke in his ear.
    Matthew followed Michael from the room. Michael caught hold of the waitress's arm and whispered to her. She walked over to their table with a to-go box and placed their uneaten pizza inside. Michael took it and stormed out the door with Matthew chasing behind.
    "I guess he didn't feel like staying around for lunch." Scarlett took a bite of the crust from her pizza.
    "You shouldn't have said anything," I muttered. "He'll probably drive Matthew straight home and take off."
    She smiled. "Maybe it'll embarrass him enough to pay up and see his kids more."
    I figured it'd be the other way around. He'd have even less to do with us now.

Chapter Five
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    I rolled over. The memory of our night of lovemaking ran through my mind. My petite body was clad in a beautiful red silky teddy as I floated beneath the champagne-colored satin sheets, my head surrounded by large fluffy pillows on a king-sized bed. The coolness of the fabric surrounded my bare thighs. Sunlight poured into the room, creating an orange glow against the soft white walls as it reflected from the large Cheval mirror standing in the corner. I touched the strong , muscular arm of the man lying next to me. Extending his lean body, he smiled seductively, slowly opening his brown eyes. Brandon placed his arms around my body, pulling me against him.
    I jolted up, my breathing rapid. My mind struggled to adjust to my surroundings. The dream had seemed so real. Depression overcame me as I glanced around my dark, stuffy bedroom. The queen-sized bed with no headboard and the bland, faded comforter covering the rumpled white cotton sheets were no match for the luxurious bed I'd just dreamt about. And there certainly was no Brandon Nash beside me.
    I climbed out of bed and caught a glimpse of myself in the six-dollar mirror glued to my bedroom door. I sucked in my stomach. More loose skin and flab than muscle—nothing petite here. I held up my breasts beneath the cotton nightshirt then let them go. They flopped down. When had gravity hit me so hard?
    Enough of this. It's time to get moving. After having spent the last two Sundays beside the fit, firm body of Brandon Nash in church, this would be the Monday I'd start getting into shape. I'd gotten some exercise routines from Jory to help get me started.
    "I think I need beauty sleep more than exercise," I grumbled as I walked to the bathroom. I paused and looked in the mirror on the medicine cabinet. What's the use? I'd gone from a swan to an ugly duckling. I hoped splashing cold water on my face would give me some life. It worked somewhat.
    As I combed my hair, a few gray strands jumped out at me. Where had they come from? Good thing Brandon had gray hairs, too. After changing into a pair of shorts and a tee shirt, I walked back to my room.
    I swore I heard my bed calling out for me. "Come lie down," it said. "I'm nice and comfortable. Come cuddle with me."
    There's no way I could work out here. Grabbing my list, I headed to the living room. First warm up, march in place. Sixty seconds of that, then stretches. I bent, pulled, and stooped, trying to do the positions like the woman in the picture. I grunted, wheezed, and didn't come close. Of course, I was a bit older than twenty and I'd birthed three kids—something the lady doing the demonstrations surely had not. I stuck my tongue out at her.
    Next on the list, fifteen jumping jacks. Fat chance. Then three sets of ten sit-ups. I don't think so. A one-mile walk. That I could do. But I'd have to make it quick, because the kids would be getting up for school soon. After pulling on my shoes, I headed out the door. Sweat crawled over my back after just three blocks. I had to argue with myself to continue. The bed yelled for me to return to it. I had to fight to keep from running home and flopping back under the