“No, that’s what we would do when we were bored,” she points out. “I’ll give you a hint – I used to take you there before your book signings and we went together almost every day when you and Trent broke up.”
“We didn’t break up. He was run over by a beer truck. On St. Patrick’s Day. Remember?”
“Yes, of course – you’re right. Sorry about that.”
“I forgive you. And I remember exactly where we went – yoga class.”
“Right!” she gleefully announces. “That’s exactly what you need. Deep meditation. It will help you relax, clear your mind and focus on the present.”
Cait loves the idea. She pulls out her phone and starts searching Yelp for the best yoga studios in our area. “You girls can take that silly yoga class and I’m going to take a Zumba class. It will be great.”
“Stop, Cait. You know I can’t afford it right now. I can’t pay for all three of us to get a gym membership. I have to cut back, remember.”
She looks up at me from her phone and smiles. “You’re right. That’s why I was thinking we could make it a business expense. It could be part of our health and wellness program. Now all I need to do is to find the perfect place.”
The head of the young woman at the table beside us whips around, “Zumba? Did someone say Zumba?” She’s got short wavy blonde hair and a smile that stretches from ear to ear. “It just so happens that you’re looking at the newest Zumba instructor at the Atlantic Club. You have to come try my class.”
By the time we finish our drinks, our new friend Heather has signed us up online for a free one-month trial membership. Cait is taking her class tomorrow night and Brie and I have signed up to take a Restorative Yoga class with Penelope in an hour. Heather agrees to meet us there and show us around. She’s a great saleswoman.
Just as promised, this place is remarkable. It’s a sprawling fitness center that covers no less than several acres. There’s an indoor pool, an outdoor pool, tennis courts, and a spa. Everyone here seems to know one another. I get the feeling it’s like joining a social club.
The gyms in Manhattan were pretty much the opposite. Come in, keep your head down, mind your own business, and do what you came here to do. But here, people sit together, chat, and hang out. It reminds me of another familiar place – my mother’s golf club – the social epicenter of her world.
Jeez – this entire thing has me so twisted in knots, now I’m thinking about my mother.
I need to clear my mind now more than ever. Heather brings us into the Aerobic Room and introduces us to Penelope. She’s got the thickest, fullest head of long brown curls I have ever seen. She has swept them up into a simple high pony where curly tendrils fall along the nape of her neck. I am completely jealous.
She guides us to the corner where we select a mat. Penelope asks us the typical questions about our reasons for doing yoga – to get more flexible, to compliment another sport, or looking for a bit more calm in life. I think the answer is obvious the minute you look at my harried face, but it is kind of her to ask.
Brie and I find a spot in the back of the room, careful not to stand out. The room fills up quickly once we arrive. It’s a long class, ninety minutes, and now I’ve got more thoughts, worries, and concerns rolling around in my mind than I did before.
The class begins with a few chants. I choose to observe rather than join right in. I know I’m holding back, but I’m not quite ready to jump in with both feet.
Penelope is wonderful. She gets me completely focused on my breathing. Everything else is pushed to the side. All my focus is on the stretching of my muscles, the depth of my breaths, and the concentration of energy required to hold each pose. My whole body is feeling intense pressures as it stretches and burns.
About halfway through, I find myself in a supine position, lying on my back. Penelope props some of us with a bolster under our backs so that the chest is open and breathing is easier. She even offers me a folded blanket under my head to tuck my chin in slightly. After a few minutes of deep diaphragmatic breathing, I feel tears rolling down my cheeks.
I am not sure what it is, but it makes me feel like I am about to explode. Everything is coming to the surface, in my body and my mind.
There is an immediate connection to the feeling of loneliness. Philip is keeping me isolated and in the dark. I haven’t seen my parents in months – I’m sure my mother’s social calendar has her days and nights filled with the important task of feeding the hungry, clothing the poor, or saving her beloved animals from being abused.
I miss Cole. I miss my Manhattan apartment. I love my life here, but I miss my old life more.
My body shakes as more tears force their way out of my body. Through the tears, I hold my position and I refuse to give into my body’s demand to protect itself. I want to curl up, pull up my knees, and shield my heart from the deep ache that radiates from there.
We move into a camel pose, a deep back bend, and there are no poses that make me feel more vulnerable. It is the hardest thing to puff out my chest and send my heart out proudly toward the sky.
There’s an awakened awareness of my body and my soul. I can actually feel a heaviness in my chest, in the place where my heart resides. As the emotions come bursting out through each tear and each deep breath I release, the weight I’ve been carrying lifts. It doesn’t completely disappear, but it becomes less of an anchor weighing me down, and more of a tether connecting my mind and body.
In this moment I feel a release – emotionally, physically, and spiritually.
Before I know it, it’s time for Savasana - the relaxation part of the class. For years, I used to creep out of the door before Savasana because I didn’t have time for lying around. But I know that today, I should stay. It's the part of the practice where we can truly allow ourselves to simply Be. There is no talking, no chants, no music. Just the mind and body moving like the ebb and flow of a tide.
I’m exactly where I need to be.
I’m a believer in the universe sending us messages and the fact I’m reacting so strongly is, to me, an indicator I might need to return.
Brie and I are unusually quiet on the ride home. Our session must have brought up some emotions for her, too. But I was so focused on my experience, I never even considered checking in on my friend. I think that’s kind of the point, though – to focus inward for ninety minutes.
The one unexpected thing that this day has brought up is my mother. I’ve always taken on the role of the “rock”, the independent adult that needed no one and nothing, not even my mother. I’ve avoided telling her about Cole for lots of reasons. Some of my reasons are purely selfish, like my fear she may want to use him to her advantage in her latest charity event. But sometimes, I avoid telling her because I’m afraid she’ll worry. She does that. A lot.
She was here for my grand opening on Memorial Day and I haven’t seen her since. I think it might be time to take a drive. I miss my mom. And I have someone very special I’d like her to meet.
CHAPTER 28
OTHER THAN A TEXT, I HAVEN’T HEARD FROM COLE since his plane landed. There’s no game today, so he and some of the boys are probably enjoying the day in Atlanta.
It’s family dinner night, so I have the happy distraction of the cutest little man in the world. At seven months, he’s just now starting to crawl. I think he’s got a future in the military, because he doesn’t push up on his hands and knees like a typical baby, he creeps across the floor, dragging himself along like a commando in training.
Megan is in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on tonight’s one-pot meal, chicken noodle soup. She’s making homemade Cheddar Bay biscuits on the side and the smell is making me crazy hungry.
Philip is plopped down in front of the television watching the news when my phone rings. I quickly gather up Connor and hand him off to his father just in time before I completely miss the call from Cole.
“Hi, babe!” I excitedly answer the phone. “Where have you been? I haven
’t heard from you all day.”
“Promise you won’t be mad,” he answers.
“Do I have something to be mad about?” I ask, suddenly concerned.
“No. I don’t think you do, but you’re probably not going to be happy.”
He says something more, but there’s so much background noise I can’t understand a thing he says. “Cole? I can’t hear you. Can you say that again?”
Now he’s practically screaming into the phone. “Hold on – I’ll step outside.”
What the heck is going on? I’ve spoken to him from noisy locker rooms before, and this isn’t anything like that. There’s loud music and even louder voices. It sounds like he’s at some sort of a party. I wait and listen as the noise dissipates and a door shuts.
“Is this better?” he asks.
“Much. What’s going on?”
“Adam’s here with me and he got me roped into doing this stupid charity auction event. I swear, I had no idea. If I did, I never would have said yes. You have to believe me.”
I slip out onto the patio to get some more information. “What kind of charity event?”
“There’s this big auction tonight – a fundraiser for the American Cancer Society in Atlanta. It’s a ...”
“... Breast cancer benefit,” I finish his thought. “Does this have something to do with that ex-girlfriend of yours?”
“You remember?”
“Of course I do. What was her name? Amy? Janie? Kaylie?”
“Jamie,” he reluctantly offers.
I can’t help but laugh. “That’s right! The Stage Five Clinger. Good luck with that.”
“So, you’re not mad?” He sounds surprised.
“Do I have anything to be mad about?” I ask just to confirm.
“No!” he enthusiastically answers. “Absolutely not.”
“Then go. Have a good time.”
“But you know it’s a charity auction, right?”
“Yeah, you said that, Cole. So what’s the problem?” I’ve actually been to a few myself. My mother would drag Philip and me to at least two a year once we were old enough.
And last winter Trent the Tool and I went to the Unicef Snowflake Ball in Manhattan. My publisher bought a table and we got to rub elbows with some of the area’s most beautiful people. I’m pretty sure his cousin Evan was there, but I didn’t know him at the time. It was a great night out. I can’t imagine this one is much different.
“Well, the auction . . . it’s a Win a Date With type of event. There’s athletes, musicians, actors, and even a few celebrity chefs here. We’re supposed to walk around the room and flirt with the female guests during the cocktail party. That’s going on right now. Pretty soon, dinner will start and the auction will begin.” He lets out a huge sigh. “Honestly, I don’t know how I let Adam talk me into this.”
“It sounds awful,” I tease. “You’re all dressed up and getting all sorts of attention from women . . .”
“. . . and men,” he interjects.
I can’t help but laugh again.
“It’s not funny,” he pleads.
“Sorry, but it is a little funny.” I try to gather my wits and get some more information. “Okay, so what happens after the auction?”
“We’re supposed to go get some photos taken and then bring our dates to a private ballroom for drinks and dessert.”
Poor Cole. He sounds positively miserable. I can’t help but ask. “Will there be music playing? You know, during dessert?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“So what are you going to say if your date asks you to dance?”
“Holy shit! I didn’t think of that. Dammit. I’m gonna kill Adam.”
“You can’t kill him, he’s got a brand new baby at home. Listen, you’re an amazing dancer. You’ll give the lucky lady a night she’ll remember for the rest of her life.”
“Suppose it’s not a lady?” he asks, genuinely afraid.
“Then you’ll buy him a few shots and earn some major brownie points for a good cause.”
He laughs, but I know he’d much prefer to be in about a thousand other places right now.
“Take some pictures and send them to me, I’d love to see what’s going on.”
“Not necessary. There’s a whole crew here from the Celebrity News Network. You can probably watch the whole thing on C! News Tonight.”
Before I can respond, there’s a commotion. Someone has grabbed Cole’s phone from his hand. “Hi Houdini! Hate to interrupt, but the big guy is needed on stage in five.”
I chuckle. “Hi Adam. Keep an eye on my man. Make sure he comes home in one piece. I’m not done with him yet.”
“Will do. Gotta run.”
When I rejoin the family, Megan and Philip have just started dinner while Connor plays in his Pack ‘n Play nearby. I make myself a bowl of soup and join them at the table.
Philip keeps checking his phone, waiting for word from forensics on the facial recognition submission. So far, there’s no word. Philip assures me that this is good news, but I’m not so sure. Just because this woman may not be in the database of known felons, doesn’t mean she’s not a felon. It just means she’s not known.
I take a few large and unladylike spoonfuls of Megan’s soup. It’s just the thing I need, real honest-to-goodness comfort food; the perfect meal for a stressful day.
Speaking of stress . . . “Hey Big Brother, I was thinking about taking a road trip to Long Island with Cole next weekend. Want to tag along? Bring the family? What do you say?”
The look of shock on his face says it all. “Seriously? Do you think Cole’s ready for that? You know she’s going to try to drag him to one of her charity events and put him on display, front and center. There’s no way we can let that happen. You know that, don’t you?”
“Funny you should mention that. Cole’s at a charity auction right now as we speak. It’s some sort of breast cancer awareness event. The poor guy is miserable.”
“I love auctions. The PTA has one every year,” Megan interjects. She turns to Philip and reminds him, “Remember last year when I won that pair of mountain bikes?”
“You mean the ones we haven’t used since the day you brought them home? Sure, I remember,” he laughs.
“Cole’s situation is a little different, Meg. He’s not there to bid on gifts and prizes. He’s there to be bid on.”
Megan’s mouth hangs wide open. “What do you mean – to be bid on?”
“It’s called Cufflinks and Cocktails, a charity bachelor auction. You buy expensive tickets, eat expensive food, and bid on a chance to have drinks and dessert with a celebrity bachelor.”
I pull out my phone and look it up on the Internet. It doesn’t take long to find the ad. Megan and I ogle the names and faces of Cole’s cohorts at the event. He’s a last minute addition and after reading the comments, I’d say he’s drawn quite a bit of attention in a short amount of time. Can’t say I blame them one bit.
“Poor schmuck. How’d he get roped into that one?” Philip asks as he drains the last drop of soup from his bowl.
“It’s complicated,” I admit as I polish off my third and final hot buttery biscuit. I don’t think much more of an explanation is necessary. “Frankly, Phil, I’m a little surprised you’re taking this so well. I didn’t think you’d much like the idea of Cole doing any public appearances like this. Especially now.”
He sits back in his chair and rubs his full belly. “Yeah, well I guess I’m full of surprises.”
I look at my sister-in-law, checking to see if she heard the same thing I just heard. She looks back at me and we both shrug our shoulders. “Meg – I don’t know what you put in that soup, but I’m definitely going to need that recipe.”
“Ha ha ha. Laugh all you want, girls. What Cole does or doesn’t do isn’t the problem. It never was. It’s you, Kenny. So long as you are not by his side on these press events and your name does not leave his lips, I have no problem with Cole strutting his ass in front of as many c
ameras as he likes. And I’ve told him that more than once.”
Now that sounds more like the brother I know . . . and love.
After dinner is cleared, the kitchen is cleaned, and the kiddo is tucked safely in bed, Megan and I flip through the channels just in time to tune in and watch C! News Tonight. We don’t have to wait long for them to broadcast some of the footage from the Cufflinks and Cocktails Celebrity Extravaganza.
Megan and I both share an unusual infatuation with men named Chris: Pine, Hemsworth, Evans, and especially Pratt. But the present object of my fan obsession is Chris Hardwick, the Nerdist himself. There’s just something about a cute guy with a sharp tongue and a quick wit that I find incredibly appealing. And there he is, all dressed up and ready to dine with the highest bidder.
But all those feelings quickly fade away when the true object of my affection fills the screen, New Jersey Red Hawk’s Shortstop Cole McGuire. He is so freaking handsome. His towering length and lean muscles fill out his navy blue Prada suit, and his snowy white shirt and red tie cut a sharp image. I have little doubt that he will fetch a hefty sum for charity.
It’s strange watching him like this on T.V. I’ve seen him on screen in his uniform, which is always a treat. And I’ve seen him interviewed in the locker room. But in both those places, he was always relaxed, in control, and in his element.
This is different. During the on-camera interview he is charming and shy and slightly uncomfortable with all the attention. I notice a few nervous twitches and mannerisms when they ask personal questions that he’s uncomfortable with. Still, he is humble and very adorable.
But then the host gets to the million-dollar question— is he dating anyone. My brother is suddenly leaning forward on the edge of his seat, waiting to hear his response. How Cole answers this question will prove whether or not Philip’s trust has been rightly placed.
Cole’s eyes look down for a second and he chuckles a bit to himself. As he looks up at the camera, he shakes his head and states with a dead-on poker face, “No, I’m not seeing anyone. I really don’t have time to even talk to anyone.”
Another Chance at Love (Another Series Book 1) Page 40
