I hold up the glass after I’ve stuck my name tag to my shirt. “What’s in this?”
“Kale, spinach, and coconut water. Well, there are other ingredients, but those are the main ones.”
I nod and drink some more, only to hear a gasp of feminine surprise to my left. I whirl around to see a face I haven’t seen in a long, long time.
“Devon Locke?! Is that really you?”
Mila Harris.
The girl who used to have a degree in flirting with me, much to Jade’s annoyance. She looks the same as she always did, which is quite a feat when you’re in your thirties. Her eyes are popping tonight—they were always a light green, but she’s got this black eyeshadow on that really draws your attention. She’s in a tight cocktail dress, and her body is toned to perfection.
“Mila, how are you?” I ask, holding out a hand for her to shake.
“Oh, come here, silly,” she says with a laugh, throwing her arms around me. I’m enveloped in a sweet smell that reminds me of something Jade wears, and a pang aches in my chest.
I miss her.
Mila releases me but holds me at arm’s length, her eyes trailing over me like I’m something she wants to eat. Then her eyes flicker to my wedding ring, and her eyebrows arch.
“Did you and Jade get married?”
I smileand move back, trying to create a little distance between us. “We did.”
Mila smiles, glancing around me. “Is she here? I’d love to say hello.”
“Nah, she’s not. She’s having a writing weekend.” I don’t know why I’m making excuses, and suddenly I feel bad for not thinking to ask Jade to come along. But then again, we would have had to find the money for her flight, not to mention the extra expense of food and drink. Plus, she’d have been alone while I was at the conference.
No, it didn’t make sense for Jade to be here.
“It’s clearlyyours,” Mila comments, nodding at me. “You look great.”
“So do you,” I reply, glancing around us. “I didn’t know you were into fitness.”
Mila laughs and links arms with me as we walk through the crowd. It’s strangely intimate, but I don’t shake her off as I don’t want to be rude.
“I’m obsessed! I did my two-hundred-hour teacher training in Ubud, Bali—a total life-changer. Sunrise meditations, rice fields, the whole cliché… but it worked.”
“Wow,” I respond.
“Yeah, it was amazing! After Bali, I went to Rishikesh for my advanced certification. Completely different energy — less glossy, more…sacred, I guess. Hard work, but worth it.”
I’m nodding, but I’ve never left the States. I wouldn’t have a clue about the energy or vibes in Bali or India.
“So, you’re a yoga teacher?” I ask as we stop by the bar.
She shakes her head, her arm finally leaving mine. “I’m a wellness coach. Let me show you.” She scrolls through her phone before turning the screen toward me.
Her feed glows—ocean views, yoga poses, and smiling faces, all perfectly lit.
“That’s Bali,” she says, tapping one photo. “And this one’s India. The advanced training I did there — it changed everything.”
I lean in, impressed despite myself. It’s hard not to be — the whole thing looks effortless, clean, professional.
“You’ve really built something,”I remark.
“I’m trying to,” she answers with a soft laugh. “But I’ve missed working with people in person. Maybe this is my sign to start over.”
“Maybe.”
