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He sees Livy about that time. “You go on and head back. I’m going to talk with her—” He juts his chin at our PT. “About some things. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I turn around, unsure of what the feeling is that churns like bad food in my guts, and decide I’ll sprint the distance back. The jog was nice, but there’s no need to go easy on myself without Reed slowing me down.
I push my body, overcome my mind screaming for relief, and am back at my truck in less than twenty minutes. I lower the windows and pull out my phone.
Me:I’d be honored to be your best man. And you crushed it with Dolly.
Brighton:I know. Right?
Me:No dress.
Brighton:I’m thinking black on black, like…
Me:Don’t say it.
Brighton:Cash.
Me:Knew that was coming. Didn’t say it earlier, but I’m happy for you, Bright. Wishing you a lifetime of happiness.
Brighton:Thanks, Lay. Miss you!
Me:Miss you too.
I crank Disturbed and head home, airing out what’s come to be a smelly truck.
I do not spend the time thinking about my stomach in knots.
I do not spend the time thinking about the pixie’s small smile as she tilted her face to the sun.
I do not think about her freckles or her upturned nose.
And I definitely don’t think about Reed spending one-on-one time that he didn’t want me around for.
Nope.
Not for even a moment.
THREE
DEFINITELY ONE WHO WANTS TO PLAY
LIVY
Ilet my screen door slap behind me as I clear the street and walk to the center of the empty sand. The sound of the waves and the smell of salt greet me, and I begin as I do each morning with a sun salutation and vitamin sea. This is the place I vacate my stresses, ambitions, and disappointments… and focus.
I settle into my practice, concentrating on fluidity in the movements, focusing on my breathing, and drinking deeply of the peace this time offers. I thank the universe for the beautiful display this morning and squeeze the cool sand between my toes. Despite the cool morning, I’m soaked in sweat but am equal parts relaxed and reinvigorated.
I need everything about yoga to recenter me. It saved me in a dark time and has never forsaken me since. I’m thankful for the peace it offers, even as the world swirls around me.
“Namaste,” I offer to the water and the waves.
I head back home to my dog. Most people wonder if he’s a Dane-Dalmatian mix because of his coloring, but he’s all Dane. He’s a Harlequin and is a stunner.
“Kyle, you ready for a walk?”
He comes skidding toward me. He has boundless energy and joy and wishes he could be a lap dog even though he’s pushing one-hundred-and-seventy pounds and hasn’t ever fit in my lap. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t try, though.
He’s a rescue. Well, not really. I mean, I rescued him from a puppy mill by paying a ludicrous sum of money for him, but I make myself feel less horrible about feeding that machine by knowing I saved him.
