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“It was a hundred dollars!” my overexcited son yells.
“That better not be American dollars. That better be Canadian dollars. Let me get my checkbook,” I grumble and add a very justified shake of my head. “A hundred dollars for a kid’s haircut. I’m going to be sick.”
Before I have a chance to hunt my purse down, Grant is standing in front of me, holding me by the shoulders. “Nope.”
He directs a frown at Sam. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.” Then his gaze makes a U-turn back to me. “Somebody was spying.”
His half smile is sweet, his gaze soft as it moves over my face. One glance at that smile and my heartbeat picks up speed. For a never-ending minute all I can do is stare. This oops is becoming a real nuisance.
“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” He frowns in concern. “You still look out of it.”
“Yeah. I’m fine.” Not really. I have a terrible crush on a man I can’t have. But I’ll be okay. I’ll learn to live without. I always do. Been doing it all my life.
Chapter Seventeen
It’s grand opening day. I’m passing the Swifter on the hardwood floor one last time before classes start at 7 a.m. Our students are hard-core. In the city we offer a 5:45 a.m. class and it’s always packed.
“We don’t have many sign-ups for seven a.m.,” Dev says, glancing at our digital schedule on the computer. Bending down, she rearranges some merchandise inside the display case packed with products with our brand logo.
T-shirts with our get your Bend on slogan written on the back, yoga mats, water containers, sweatshirts, and leggings. You name it, we sell it in our brand colors––pale lavender and navy. The studio is beautiful. All we need now is for our devoted clients to show up.
“You said you spoke to a bunch of clients and they told you they’re coming, right?”
“Yeah...” She makes a face.
“I’m nervous as it is. Don’t freak me out. We sent out five hundred e-invitations. I passed out hundreds of flyers and free-class coupons locally. We advertised on Facebook and sent out Instagram notices––we did everything we could. Let’s be positive.”
Why am I having such a hard time summoning it then?
“You’re right. It’ll be fine,” Dev says, gathering her hair up and twisting it into a neat bun.
Three hours later we’re no longer positive. Nope. There’s not a positive vibe amongst the two of us. The three classes we taught were maybe half-filled…maybe? Actually closer to a quarter filled.
By late afternoon I walk into a dark house with failure dragging my shoulders down. Sam is with Ronan and Grant is meeting with team doctors. Roxy greets me at the door and I kneel and hug her close, tears threatening to erupt. I can’t bear to be in this house alone so I head to the back patio and fall into one of the huge plush lounge chairs near the pool.
The air sticky humid. The sky purple. Above me a full moon is already making its presence known even though it’s not even dark out. I’m convinced it’s a bad omen. This is where a drink would go a long way but I’m not even tempted. Not even alcohol could lift my spirits at this point.
“What are you doing out here?” the man I’m desperately trying not to fall in love with says.
“It’s not dark yet and the moon is out. That’s some bad juju.” I point to it, brazenly hanging there. The gall. That moon has some confidence coming out while it’s still light out.
Look at me! it’s saying, I can outshine everything around me. Take that, Earth.
That moon is a badass bitch. It doesn’t think it’s not deserving. It doesn’t second-guess every decision it’s ever made. Mistakes? No sweat. It struts its stuff without a care, knowing its rightful place in the world. Must be nice. I wonder what that fucking feels like.
Grant walks around to stand in front of me. He searches my face while he takes off his suit jacket, throwing it on the lounge chair at my feet. Then he starts unbuttoning his dress shirt.
“What are you doing?” I feel the need to ask.
“Getting naked,” he casually answers, expression unreadable. “How was work?”
My eyes bug out. Naked? He unbuttons his cuffs and strips it off. Floating, it comes to rest over his jacket. My mouth instantly waters at the sight of his chest. I could stare at it for hours and still not get enough. Doesn’t matter how many times I’ve seen it. It never and I mean never gets old.
“We failed. I failed––the classes were practically empty.” I dig my fingers into the roots of my hair and scratch.
He pauses unbuckling his belt and glances up. “That’s why you look grumpy,” he muses. Nodding, he picks up his phone and starts typing.
