Page 29 of Class Act

Aryn shook her head. “He was kind of dating someone, so . . .”

Ruby’s eyes grew large. “Way to be a tempting vixen.”

“It wasn’t a big deal. We were friends, and it was nice of him.”

I felt like there was more to that story, but I could tell Aryn was uncomfortable, so I redirected as I led the way back to the living area.

“I’m glad I’ve never had anything really terrible happen to me, dating-wise,” I said. “There are a lot of people who get hurt.”

“You know,” Ruby said thoughtfully as she plopped down into an armchair. “Even though we’re getting older and we’re still single, I think we have a lot to be happy about. I always wanted sisters, and now I have four. I’m extra lucky to have a job I love.”

“We get to eat Hailey’s cooking,” Aryn added.

“Don’t forget Lizzie’s famous enchiladas,” I said, mentioning those cheesy delights that had been considered a total prize in the past.

“It’s good to remember that we’re luckier than we think we are,” Ruby stated. “Sure, sometimes it can get lonely, and occasionally I can feel my mom mourning the passing of my birthing years, but I think we’re fine.”

Yes, we were lucky. But you could be lucky and lonely all at the same time. I kept the thought to myself, however. Last May when Lizzie had begged us to go on an adventure and said she needed a change, I hadn’t related but I’d been supportive. I was newly thirty at the time and wasn’t feeling the tug quite as hard as she had been. However, I could feel the yearning sneaking in, and it was unwelcome. Sandy blond hair, intense eyes, and a perfectly formed face flashed in my mind, and I shook my head.

“Wearefine,” I said, more intensely than I’d meant to. Their eyes flew to my face, and I felt my cheeks warm. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

Aryn grinned. “No, really, you’re right. Ruby is right. We have a good life.”

I ate a bite of the lasagna and hit play on the movie again. Life was better than good. It was great. So, so great.

*****

My phone dinged at 7:15 the next morning, and I rolled to my side to see who was messaging me.

Meredith: I need to do yoga today. I’ll pick you up in 15.

Me: You hate yoga

Meredith: I know. So do our other friends. See you in 14.

I jumped out of bed, knowing that chatting with her was wasting time. When Meredith Atwood said she was on her way, she was most likely already pulling up to your house. My body felt sluggish after the loads of pasta and cookies consumed last night, so I wasn’t too upset about her wanting to exercise. I needed it.

Meredith: We’re going to the park

I paused in pulling on my yoga pants and frowned. Why? The gym had a perfectly good yoga area.

Me: It’s 40 degrees outside

Meredith: It’s the opposite of hot yoga. Hot yoga sounds like torture. This is chilly yoga.

Me: I’m not sure you can stretch well in those temperatures.

Meredith: Dress warm. 10 minutes.

I shook my head and finished dressing. Dressing warm meant layers. I put on a long-sleeved shirt and pulled a sweatshirt over it. My thickest yoga pants, warm socks, and tennis shoes would have to complete the ensemble even though bare feet were the norm. I told myself I’d warm up when we got going and decided not to fight the wishes of my blustery friend. I freshened up in the bathroom, ate a banana, and grabbed a water bottle with minutes to spare.

I opened the blinds in my living room and closed my eyes as I felt the rising sun warm my face through the glass. It had been a couple of days since I’d taken the time for my regular yoga practice, and there was some strain in my muscles as I began to lightly move them into stretches, tugging my feet up to my bottom, reaching over my head and attempting to prepare myself. Two minutes later I saw her pull up outside my condo, and I grabbed my things and hustled out to meet her.

Meredith’s blue eyes were frosty this morning, and I felt the chill of her mood as I sat down in the passenger seat and buckled up. The car was still cold, something that seemed to match the vibes inside the vehicle.

“What happened last night at the HOA meeting?” I asked, hugging my mat to my chest and shivering at the icy leather seat against my legs.

“Other than finally having proof that I’m living in a tyrannical regime? Not much.” Her voice was clipped.

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