“Look, I gotta go. I got yoga.” A beat of silence preceded both Alessandro and Marco erupting with laughter. I chuckled along, myself. “Shut up.”
“You got yoga?” Alessandro asked. “Like breathing and down…facing…dog shit?”
Marco’s laughs had heightened to the point of causing him to wheeze. “How dare you not start with that.”
I laughed. “What? My body has been all creaky and tight lately. Molly signed me up for a private yoga session.”
Their obnoxious laughs got louder.
“Fuck you guys, all right. At least I’m trying to be a little more relaxed.”
“Are you wearing a suit?” Alessandro asked with a squeaky, amused tone to his voice.
“No!” I looked down at the sweats I had on. “But it took me like two hours to find these sweatpants.”
“Are they mine?” Marco asked. “Please take a picture.”
“No. Fuck you.” I scoffed, but there was still an amused smile on my face. It was nice to break the tension. “I gotta go.”
“Namaste,” Alessandro hummed, and Marco snorted.
“Whatever. Bye.” I ended the call with both of their laughs roaring across my speaker until the line went dead.
Chuckling as I went, I gathered my phone, wallet, and a bottle of water I’d grabbed. I climbed out of my car. I walked into the studio Molly recommended and was greeted with a friendly smile from a young-looking blonde at the receptionist's desk. She wore glasses, and her cheeks developed a little color when I walked in.
“Hello. How can I help you?” she asked.
I rubbed my head, suddenly wondering if I needed some sort of reservation number from Molly. “Um, I’m here for a private session.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, sir. We only take appointments on Saturdays. We have walk-ins on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, though those are group sessions. If you’d like, I can schedule a private appointment for you for next weekend?”
I probably at least should have had Molly on the phone. “My sister-in-law called and made an appointment for me earlier. Molly Varasso.”
Her jaw dropped a little, and her eyes widened. “Oh! Sorry, she wasn’t clear
on the phone. Yes, of course!” She motioned to a glass door to her left. “Please, head right in. The instructor will be with you soon.”
I nodded. “Thanks.”
I walked into the studio and was immediately smacked with the smell of lavender and vanilla. A couple of burning incense sticks seemed to be the culprit, and there were two mats rolled out, facing each other, one at the head of the studio and another more towards the middle. The wall behind the head mat was covered in pictures, articles, and awards, all surrounding a center, framed degree.
I assumed I was meant to sit at the one in the middle, so I walked over and set the bottle down next to the mat. I still had a few minutes, so I walked over to the wall of photos and started to scan them. The first few pictures were of groups of people doing yoga, nothing too interesting, and a few articles sang the praises of the studio owner, Stacy Everett. Just as I started to wonder what she looked like, I got to a picture with a woman holding the degree that was framed on the wall.
She had long, blond hair in perfectly flowing waves down her face and over her shoulders. Her head was encircled by a crown of cherry blossoms, and she had a bright but humble smile on her face. Her dazzling, hazel-green eyes and smooth, pastel-pink lips elevated her already picturesque face to something almost ethereal, like she wasn’t of this world. My heart started to race as I looked at her.
Is she the owner?
I continued to scroll down the wall of photos, seeing the magnificent woman in many of the photos, including one with her standing in front of this studio, using a giant pair of scissors to snip through a red ribbon. She was the owner.
“Hey, Sam.” Musical tones rang from the entryway, and I looked over my shoulder.
There she was, a milky-skinned angel from heaven.
Was I supposed to survive an entire yoga session with her as the instructor?
My lips lolled open. “There is no way.”
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