Losing the love of my life taught me that inactions have consequences. My new bookkeeping job teaches me that numbers don't lie, but people do.
Sharing yoga with others is my refuge from the darkness pulling me to stay home. A ginormous pro footbal...
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Mia avoided me for five days, a laughable and impressive effort considering I attended her Friday and Monday classes. She wore a chilly mask of indifference, handing out platonic smiles like the town's dentist doling out toothbrushes on Halloween.
That was before her Olympic-paced croc-walking. Arriving two minutes before class and leaving one minute after, she left no time for me to catch her. That girl was as subtle as poking a rusty nail in my eye.
Her eyes never landed on me in two hours' worth of classes. Two hours, one hundred and twenty minutes, and zero eye contact. It bothered me. A lot. How did I transition from disliking her scrutinous gaze to...Fuck if I knew, but I didn't like it. What the fuck had I said wrong? She froze up, bolted out of my house as if her ass were on fire, and screeched tire marks backing out of my driveway.
Her yoga mat being patterned with ladybugs confirmed my assumption: she was still hung up on her ex. Unless Mia was in some toxic shit breakup, having feelings for an ex wasn't an issue. I still held feelings for Candace because she'd been an invaluable part of my life. Replaying all the signs, now as clear as runway globe sticks directing a plane, we weren't the right fit. Accepting that was a bitter pill to swallow, but I still wanted her to be happy.
So, yeah, I understood caring about your ex. Very healthy and mature of me.
All that maturity evaporated with Mia's fifty-yard dash exit into the women's bathroom. Since Delores moaned up a storm in there, I wasn't about to barge in. Leaning against the hallway wall, Mike texted me with news that kicked me right in the balls.
Mike: About the golf event.
Me: What happened?
Located outside Dallas this year, I was representing my foundation at its biggest fundraiser of the year. Ashley told me that my PR turnaround depended on it...I wasn't aware my PR was declining.
Mike: Nothing but FYI, Candy will be there.
I blinked at his response, then snorted. My thumbs couldn't fly across my screen fast enough.
Me: Not as my date.
As far as I was concerned, Candy forfeited all WAG opportunities for public exposure when she left.
Mike: No.
"What then?" I asked my screen.
Me: ?
Mike's three dots replayed before I called him. "For fuck's sake, what!?"
"Shh," he shushed me over loud activity sounds. Where was he? "I'm at the doctor's."
I frowned. Hopefully, he was okay. "Are you sick?"
"No. Listen, Sam. Candy is seeing someone."
Mike's verbal sledgehammer made my chest crumple. Already? The studio walls spun around me. All that shit I said about wanting her to be happy? Fuck that. "Good for her," I grumbled between tight teeth, gripping my phone in a chokehold.
