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I frowned as I reread the text. Required conversation? What could possibly be so urgent, and why wouldn’t he have brought it up last night? Sighing, I tucked my phone to my chest and rolled over in bed, pulling the comforter up to my chin.
I could get a coffee with him, right?
It wasn’t like it was a date or anything. It was probably work-related, though he didn’t exactly offer any hints as to what this mysterious-yet-urgent conversation would be. But it had to be about Larkspur, right? I’d been pretty firm with him that anything between us going forward would need to be strictly professional.
I brought my phone back up in front of my face.
Fine. I’ll be there in an hour.
At the very least, he could wait until I got through my yoga practice. I’d already missed it yesterday morning after sleeping in too late, and I’d missed it the morning before after scurrying out of Leo’s penthouse. I could always feel the effects on my mental health when I didn’t get in that stretch time—anxiety and stress would creep in through the cracks of the mental foundation I worked tirelessly to keep strong. Wrestling myself out of bed, I groaned from the throb of my sore muscles after yesterday’s training as I stretched my arms above my head.
Yoga was definitely needed this morning.
Grabbing my rolled mat from where it leaned against my nightstand, I laid it out on the hardwood floor behind my couch before grabbing a sports bra and leggings to change into. After syncing my phone to my Bluetooth speaker, I turned on a meditative sound therapy playlist I liked to listen to as I practiced.
My yoga routine usually only took twenty to thirty minutes, depending on the day. If I was particularly sore or if I had a lot on my mind, I’d take a little more time to sink deeper into each pose. Right now I had plenty of things to work through, so as I stepped to the top of my mat, I closed my eyes and did my best to drown everything out. Pressing my hands together in front of my heart, I began to flow into my first sun salutation.
I am strong. I am confident.
I’d been practicing yoga religiously for the last two years—it had been one of the first things that seemed to help with my stress and anxiety after finally breaking things off with Seth. I loved the way it made me feel inside, that by simply moving my body into a flow that aligned with my breathing, I invited in a calmer and more limber physical and mental state. I could literally feel the tension leaving my body, and after trying a dozen odd things, including but not limited to rock climbing, roller derby, even joining a women’s curling team in one of my many fits of impulsivity, I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
I am fearless. I am . . . happy.
Even after all this time, that mantra was not as easy to believe in. Happiness sometimes felt as tangible as the mist that hung thick in the air after a night of rain—I could feel it in a general sense, but it was too obscure to really grasp and hold between my fingers. I mean, what was happiness anyway? I had a great job and made decent money, I had a family who loved and supported me—as much as I let them, at least—and above all else, I was safe. Those truths made me feel successful. Was that the same thing as happiness?
I am ready to receive.
That thought was also a little harder to process. Until now, it always elicited wonderful thoughts around the work I was doing at Larkspur . . . that one day, I would buy the club from Robert. Now that I knew it was nothing but a pipe dream, I felt silly saying the words inside of my head. As I folded over into a downward dog stretch, I wondered what, exactly, was I supposed to be receiving?
I supposed I wasn’t quite ready to give up the dream of owning Larkspur. Obviously, Leo’s presence threw a not-so-subtle wrench in those plans . . . but nothing was permanent. Someday Leo would probably want to sell, too—wasn’t that pretty typical of rich entrepreneur-types? Did I have the patience and determination to wait him out?
Continuing to move through my practice, I paid close attention to the stiff muscles of my calves and thighs. After a half-hour of movement, I felt much looser and more prepared to tackle whatever Leo had to throw at me. I was a strong and confident woman who’d proven herself capable of handling anything, so I had no doubt I could continue to represent myself professionally to my new boss . . . even if the occasional pesky desire for him crept into the dark corners of my mind.
It would take time . . . but I was nothing if not determined.
Blowing out a long breath as I finished my final stretch, I knew it was now or never. I was ready to take him on.
I walked into Blue Sparrow Cafe only a couple of minutes late, immediately spotting Leo at a table in the far corner. There were already two steaming cups of coffee on the table—a sight that sent my heart into a catapult—so I skipped the line to order and instead made my way directly to him. From this angle, I could only see his side profile. He looked deep in thought as he stared at the wall across from where he sat. A beautiful beige cashmere sweater stretched across his broad shoulders, the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows, and dark blue jeans hugged his legs. He was the picture of a handsome, well-dressed man.
As I got closer, though, I noticed his wavy hair was in disarray, like he’d been running his fingers through it all morning. I realized something was wrong when he turned to look at me, noting the dark storms in his eyes. It contrasted sharply from the seemingly happy and confident man I’d left at the club last night.
But then he blinked, and it was as if those storm clouds were never there. “Good morning, Mara.” His mouth stretched into a smile as he stood up from his seat, moving to the opposite side of the table to swiftly pull the other chair out for me. “I hope you don’t mind—I took the liberty of ordering you a hazelnut coffee.”
I nodded. “That’s perfect, thank you.” I tilted my head as I took a closer look at his face, mesmerized by his ability to slam his walls down so quickly. A few lines set deep in his brow were the only indication that something was amiss. “What’s wrong?”
He let out a humorless chuckle as he sat back down, folding his large frame into the stiff metal chair. I caught the tic in his jaw before he opened his mouth to speak. “Is it that obvious?”
This felt like my conversation with Robert all over again—I could feel myself bracing for impact. “Is it the club?”
Shaking his head, Leo picked up his mug of coffee and brought it toward his full lips. “No, nothing has happened,” he assured me, “the club is fine. There’s nothing to worry about.” He shuffled in his chair, sitting up straighter as he set his mug down without taking a sip. His thick fingers began to assault the table in an anxious rhythm. “Listen, I need to ask you for a favor, Mara.”
I stiffened. “Okay. Regarding what?”
He grinned, and it suddenly felt like we were on opposite sides of a sparring ring. Leo was up to something, and I had a strong feeling I wasn’t going to like it. “My parents are coming into town,” he volleyed back.
I stared at him blankly. “Okay,” I repeated, my mind scrambling to try and get ahead of whatever he might be about to drop on me. “Is that a bad thing?”
His shoulders rose in a small shrug. “It’s not ideal. But I was hoping you might be able to help make it a little easier.” I watched his face closely as he smiled politely up at a man who walked by our table. His voice came out a smidge lower when he spoke again. “My parents are . . . not your typical parents.”
