Page 64 of The Overtime Kiss

Dangerously so. I turn back to organizing the yoga items, trying desperately to focus.

But I can feel his eyes on me, sense the crackle between us. What is he thinking? Is his mind racing like mine?

“Why did you ask?” he says, his tone surprisingly vulnerable. A little eager too.

Heat races down my spine. I could tell him the truth—that I’m dying to know all these details about him. But I can’t admit that. I really can’t.

I turn to him. “I was just curious when I saw her the other day. She’s really kind. She seems to know you well.”

“We’re friends. It’s…nice,” he says, not quite defeated but resigned. Maybe “nice” wasn’t what he wanted from marriage though.

Do you want more than nice?I want to ask, but I know better, so I keep the words to myself.

We finish setting up the yoga corner, then step back to admire it. A purple mat stretches across the floor, a few candles and blocks are neatly arranged on the shelf, and a basket with the strap and the bolster sits in the corner. It’s simple but cozy.

“Do you want to do it with me sometime?” I ask impulsively because apparently, I’m an impulsive soul with this man.

He cocks his head, and before the panic sets in, I quickly add, “Yoga. It’s good for sports. It’s good for hockey players. Have you ever done yoga?”

His smile is magnetic, hooking into my heart and making me forget why we’re a bad idea. “Yeah, I’ll do yoga with you,” he says, glancing at his watch. We’ve run out of time today. “How about when I get back from the road trip?” he asks, like he doesn’t want to miss the chance. Like he’s already imagining it.

My breath hitches. It’s not a date. It’s absolutely not a date with my boss. But try telling that to the flutters in my chest, to the wild thoughts in my head, to the part of me that’s checking the clock and counting down the days.

Even as I take Luna to the wildlife sanctuary and Parker to the science museum, as I help them with homework, make dinner for them, and hang out with Trevyn and Barbara-dor one day as we unpack Elphaba.

She just arrived in a box on the doorstep.

“Oh look! Chad didn’t even scratch your baby,” he says, stroking the sewing machine that I, unfortunately, had to interact with Fuck Chad to retrieve.

“Miracles happen,” I say. “But he’s also probably too busy getting blown by his new wife to exact revenge via textiles.”

“In the immortal words of Glinda, they deserve each other.” Then he pats the green machine some more. “And now you’re home, Elfie.”

But even when I go to the rink while the kids are in school, and even when I go to lessons while Tyler’s mom watches the kids, I’m excruciatingly aware of the calendar and the returning of my boss.

It’s just yoga, I tell myself.

Nothing will happen.

We’re simply two athletes stretching together. That’s all.

But I’ve already picked out which leggings I’ll wear. Blue, since he seems to like that color. It’s the color of the towels he bought me. Ridiculous, so ridiculous that I’ve picked an outfit.

A week and a half after he left, the kids aren’t the only ones excited to see him return from the road trip late Wednesday night.

And when I drop them off at school the next day and return home, my boss is waiting for me at my door in his navy blue workout shorts and a gray Sea Dogs T-shirt that hugs his pecs and shows off his biceps, a yoga mat under his arm.

“I don’t have to be at morning skate for another hour, so I’m ready for the Official Yoga Corner. Are you?”

More than he can ever know.

“Give me one minute,” I say, and then my heart nearly explodes in my chest as I race inside. I pull on a yoga tank top that matches my blue leggings, run a brush through my hair, fasten it into a ponytail, then breathe.

Long, deep, and centered.

Like when I hit the ice, reminding myself to enjoy every moment.

I will. Oh yes, I will.

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