I swallow down my pride and hold my head high like a man who’s got his shit together. I stride confidently down the hallway toward the yoga room with my mat rolled up under my arm.
My secretary continues to mock me with a barrage of taunting text messages, feigning innocence in each one. I’ll admit it – I’ve got a faint smile on my lips because it was a good prank.
I’m self-aware enough to know that I’m too uptight. Always walking around in those constricting business suits. I do need to let loose. This isn’t exactly how I would go about doing that if I’d had to plan it myself, but hey – it’s not the end of the world. And the expression on Grace’s face when she sees me will be worth it.
I shove my damp hair out of my face and stroll into the room like I own it. Like a real man.
I feel the weight of everyone’s stares on me as they appraise my get-up with questioning eyes but I ignore that. I don’t care what anyone thinks. I’m here to save my marriage and that’s all that matters.
Pushing my phone into my pocket, I lock my eyes on Grace’s. She looks absolutely horrified. I smirk at her.
“Hey babe,” I say as I proudly take my place right next to her.
She leans into me with wide eyes. “You look like Aladdin!” she whisper-yells.
“Anything to get you back on this magic carpet for good!” I toss her a wink and, with a flourish, I unfurl my yoga mat beside hers.
Is that a unicorn motif on my mat? Fucking Sanaya!
When I turn my attention to Isla, she gets into position at the front of the room.
I’m here to get my girl back. As if I’d let a little wardrobe glitch hold me back!
I love her in an epic way. So, this will either be an epic win or an epic fail. But either way, I’m not going out quietly.
Chapter 27
Daniel
Isla stands at the front of the room with Reuben by her side. “Good morning everyone. And again, welcome to the Tantric Yoga for Lovers Retreat here at Prasanna Light Oneness Studio and Spa.” Her eyes sweep over my attire and she says, “I'm glad to see how enthusiastic some of you are about being here. Good…good.” She hikes a questioning brow at Grace.
My wife looks over at me, trying to restrain a smile. This isn't exactly the type of grin I want to put on her face but any time the corners of her lips are arrowed upward because of me, I'll take it as a win. So I smile right back.
Isla's focus moves across the faces of her students, taking each person in, one at a time. She smiles and her serene energy seems to float over the room. She sways slightly from side to side, almost as if she’s rocking to some cosmic music that nobody else can hear.
She just looks so happy – genuinely happy – with her tie-dye yoga pants and her auburn hair pulled into two pigtails, one flopping on either side of her head. Reuben looks equally happy and I’d pay a pretty penny to get a hit of whatever it is the two of them have been smoking.
Our cult leader's adoring eyes turn to her fiancé. “This is Reuben,” she tells us in an airy voice. “My mate, my partner, my love. I’m so glad that he took time out of his busy schedule to lead this class with me today.”
They share yet another sugary sweet glance and it feels like I’m going to need a few shots of insulin to get through this damn weekend.
The guy beams under his significant other's gaze. I remember when the woman I love used to look at me like that. I took it for granted. Reuben is much smarter than I am. The way he’s looking at Isla in return shows that he’s aware of how lucky he is to have a good woman by his side.
“I love you, babe,” he grins like a love drunk fool and places a kiss on her lips.
“Love you, babe.” If her smile got any wider her face would tear apart.
All the women in the room coo, holding fast to their own partners. All the women except mine.
I sneak a glimpse at Grace sitting beside me on her yoga mat, keeping a careful distance. She’s as rigid as a statute, shoulders tense, forehead creased, hand on her stomach. I know that look. She’s nervous. Hell, I am too. I don’t know what the on earth I’ve signed up for. All I know is that I'm here to prove to Grace that I’m serious about working on our relationship.
Isla speaks again. “The practice of tantric yoga has really concretized Reuben's and my relationship. The goal of this workshop is to strengthen your bond as a couple, too. So, it doesn’t matter if you’re head over heels in the honeymoon phase or if you feel like your relationship is on the brink of falling apart. This retreat can have beneficial effects for your relationship…if you’ll let it.” Her gaze falls on me and lingers. “Basically, I’m asking you to have an open mind.”
I give her a subtle nod. I’m here. I put everything else on hold for this weekend so I might as well give it my all, I guess.
Isla turns to the tall willowy woman leaning against the doorjamb with her hands clasped in front of her and a crown of dandelions on her head of strawberry blonde hair. She wears a breezy smile on her lips. She has definitely perfected the whole 1970s-flowerchild-with-subtle-mental-instabilities vibe.
“This is Serenity,” Isla says of her. “She’s a licensed marriage and family therapist with an undergraduate degree in psychology and a love of all things esoteric. She has many years of experience as an instructor of guided meditation and she is a faithful student of the practice of yoga. And it definitely doesn’t hurt that she’s an expert at reading body language and a bit of a clairvoyant, too. She’ll be meeting with each couple in turn over the course of the weekend to try and work out what it might take to strengthen your bond.”
This Serenity lady does a little bow, clasping her hands in front of her chest and grinning wide. “Namaste.”
Oh Jeez.
Isla turns back to her class. “So, before we jump right into the first session, I’d like to take a moment so that we can all introduce ourselves to each other.” Her eyes go to Nancy and she winks. “We’ll start with the happy new fiancés right here.”
Nancy beams as she reaches for her old man’s hand. “Good morning, everyone. My name is Nancy Chester and this is my man, Edward.” He looks around the room nodding at everyone. “We started dating a few months ago and he liked it so much that he put a ring on it.” She holds up her wrinkly hand, waving it around, proudly broadcasting the glittering little rock on her ring finger. Everyone titters. “Anyway, this will be my third marriage and Edward’s fourth so as much as we love each other now, we’re doing everything in our power to make sure we have the tools to make this last. We may look old but we Chester women live damn long so I want to make sure I’ll be living happy.”
We all chuckle as Edward leans across and gives his lady a kiss on the cheek. She lights up, her cheeks swelling with her grin.
The young brunette sitting next to Nancy and Edward speaks up as she pulls her man’s arm around her waist. “Hello. I’m Sophia and this is my fiancé, Joshi Bear—”
He interrupts her, looking embarrassed. “It’s just Josh. Just Josh.”
The girl giggles into her palm. “Sorry, baby. It’s just Josh," she corrects herself. "We came here all the way from Copper Heights because we’re getting married in Vegas on the 15th and we really just wanted to strengthen that bond, that connection before we take the big leap.”
Joshi Bear takes his perky fiancee’s hand and places a kiss on her knuckles. “That’s right, baby.”
Then, all eyes turn to me and Grace. We’re sitting on yoga mats side by side with a huge emotional wall between us that’s evident to anyone who looks.
With hesitancy in her voice, she begins to speak. “I’m Grace and this is my husband, Daniel. We started dating in school and have been married for three and a half years and we’re…” Her shaky voice trails off as her eyes wander over to mine. There’s so much pain in her face as she tries to figure out how to describe the status of our relationship.
I speak up, hoping to ease the awkwardness. “We’re just trying to keep the flame alive,” I supply with
a little chuckle. I reach over and take her hand from her lap. She gives me a grateful smile.
And as the rest of the couples go on introducing themselves, all I can think about is how much I need this to work. I need my wife. I know she needs me, too. The way she knots her fingers in her lap and bites down on the corner of her lip says a lot.
Once the last of the couples has introduced themselves, Isla’s voice catches my attention. “So, to gently ease ourselves into the flow of tantra, we're going to begin with a few minutes of hatha. Deep breathing and gentle movements to align our minds with our inner selves, that part of us that yearns to connect with our partner on the deepest level.”
She instructs us to sit with our legs folded and then begins to guide us through a series of simple yoga moves. I’ve got to say that it’s helping me relax.
By the time the sequence is over, Isla has each couple sitting face-to-face. Grace’s eyes don’t meet mine. They’re focused on her hands twisting around in her lap. My chest fills with sadness. My wife doesn’t even feel like she can look me in the eyes.
Fuck!
Isla speaks again. “Now, we’ll begin the tantric portion of our practice. What we’re striving for is perfect union with our mate. We’re looking for that sacred space where we’ve released all of the blocks that keep us closed off, all of the barriers that keep us separate. We want to get to the space where we each feel safe and united. Where all obstacles have dissolved.”
The instructor moves around the class, helping each couple get into the correct posture and make the necessary adjustments. She instructs us to deepen our breathing and focus within and all that other clichéd yoga stuff.
Grace looks like she’s really struggling in this intimate position with me. It seems too personal, too emotional for her to handle. She seems to be one heartbeat, one breath from crumbling. But when Isla tells us to lean forward, touch our foreheads against one another and stare into each other’s eyes, I seriously feel like my wife won’t be able to do it.
I press my forehead against hers and try to connect with her. There’s absolute devastation in her brown irises. And for the first time since my marriage started falling apart, a troubling thought enters my mind. Does Grace have a secret? Is there something she’s hiding behind those sad chestnut eyes? The thought coils around my ribcage, making it hard to breathe. Right on cue, tears form at the corners and spill down her cheeks. Unable to handle the raw pain there, I press my lids shut, hiding behind them like a veil.
Isla stoops beside us. "I know it may be hard, guys. But that's why we're here. To do the hard work that will open us up to one another, so that we can have an honest conversation and begin to heal." She quietly moseys away to check on the other couples. She addresses the whole room. “Trust yourself and trust your partner. Be vulnerable. Be open. Remember that in laying yourself bare to your mate, you become stronger as a unit, as a couple. Let those walls crumble to dust and just allow yourself to be here, to be available to your partner.”
Opening my eyes, I find Grace’s big brown orbs concentrated on the ground. I push her tears away. With a bent finger, I lift her chin so that she's looking in my eyes. "We can fix this." I whisper but her eyes tell me she's not sure she believes me.
All these months I let her push me away, I was such a fool. We've been at an impasse. But I was sure that we'd work it out, that eventually she'd forgive me for whatever the hell it is she's so mad about and we'd get on with our happily ever after. So, I decided to wait it out.
I got complacent. That complacency eroded her trust in me completely. Maybe this time I spent waiting, I should have been fighting for her instead.
I’m fighting now. I hope it's not too late.
Chapter 28
Grace
“Hello, you two love birds!”
The zany-looking hippie with the wilting dandelions in her hair claps excitedly as Daniel and I step into the small office. She sits cross-legged in a comfy armchair with a colorful quilt wrapped around her narrow shoulders. The sunlight pouring in from the window behind her encases her in a sea of light and causes her to glow.
She looks like a screenshot of Woodstock 1969.
My husband and I garble a sceptical response as we stumble into the pair of bright yellow tufted chairs across from Serenity.
I’m really not sure about this woman.
Isla spewed her credentials at the beginning of this morning's workshop but I have a hard time believing that she is capable of anything more than sprinkling us with invisible fairy dust and sending us on our way. Is she really supposed to help us figure out how to fix our relationship?
The vinegary kale salad that was served to us for lunch rumbles in my nervous belly. I steal a peek at Daniel. He looks doubtful, too. But at least he’s sitting here. He’s willing. He’s open. Coming here was my idea so I can’t be the one to back out.
“Grace and Daniel,” Serenity chirps spritely, “tell me a little about your relationship. How did you meet? How did you fall in love? When did you know that you were divinely assigned to each other?”
I wait for Daniel to speak and when he doesn’t, I pull in a breath and run my tongue over my lips. “We met in law school. He was the popular guy. The know-it-all who got into long philosophical debates, challenging the professor in the middle of lecture hall, never backing down from an argument.” I chuckle a little at the memory. “But everyone loved him, though. Everybody wanted to be around him.”
The therapist smiles in a tranquil way. “And what were you like, Grace?”
I chew the corner of my lip. “I was…”
“…Beautiful,” Daniel supplies. My eyes go to his. He looks at me and says, “She was beautiful. And reserved. Smart. She was the quiet threat no one saw coming.” He grins. “That’s one of the things I liked most about her when we started dating. In a world where everyone was whipping out their dicks to have a pissing contest, there she was, quietly racking up straight As and completely humble about it.”
That’s one way to describe what I was like in law school. I’d say that I was a loner, that I had a hard time fitting into that dog-eat-dog universe. I didn’t belong there…Until Daniel noticed me and I quickly realized that I belonged with him.
“How did you two start dating?” Serenity asks. She clenches the blanket around her with one hand and reaches for her teacup with the other.
Daniel and I share a look and burst out laughing.
He tilts his body in the chair and slings an arm over the back to get comfortable. “So, it’s Friday night,” he recounts. “Everybody’s super hyped about going to this bonfire that was raging just outside of campus. And, I’m strolling down the hall with my friends–”
“With your friends?” I quip mockingly. “You mean your devoted following of worshippers?”
Rolling his eyes, he squeezes my thigh. He doesn’t seem to notice the way my breathing hitches at his touch. He returns to his story. “Anyway, I see this pretty little blonde head, balled up in the corner just outside of her dorm room, completely lost in her Bankruptcy Law book. So, I stop next to her and I’m like, ‘What the hell are you doing? It’s bonfire night!’.” He turns to me. “And what did you say?”
“I said, ‘My roommate’s in our dorm room having sex with her girlfriend and I’m terrified that if I go back in there, I’ll get an invitation to join in!’.”
We burst out laughing again. The counselor chuckles too but it’s one of those you-had-to-be-there-to-get-it things. Sort of like an inside joke. A sacred moment between me and the guy I made some of my fondest memories with.
His face grows solemn. “That night, I asked her the question that ultimately determines whether you’re a good person or a bad person...” He pauses dramatically as Charity hangs on to his every word, waiting to hear the pivotal question. “…Biggie or Tupac?”
I toss my head back and chortle.
He smirks at me. “What was your answer?”
“Missy Elliott!”
&nbs
p; He faces Serenity, shaking his head haughtily. “An unconscionable response, really. A grotesque display of incivility.”
“So, why did you continue to hang out with her?” Serenity interjects in a playful tone.
“It was her ass,” Daniel says sincerely. “That ass made me overlook her ignorance.”
“I stand by my answer to this day,” I tell him, enjoying his jovial mood. "Missy Elliott is the greatest rapper of all time!"
He shuns me teasingly. “Pitiful!”
I find myself giggling like a little girl. I love it when he gets silly and playful like this. It makes me forget about the scars.
Even with his odd clothing choice, he's overwhelmingly attractive. The deep armholes of his sleeveless shirt emphasize his sinewy, tan arms and the low neck broadcasts his strong pectorals. I'm not sure what look he's going for exactly but he'd make a very hot interpretive dancer.
Dirty Forever (The Dirty Suburbs Book 8) Page 14
