Page 28 of Sex, Lies, and Margarita Mixes

She starts with gentle breath-work.

I start with aggressive glaring.

Chase meets my eyes during our third sun salutation and smirks. He knows I’m watching. He’s counting on it. When he shifts into low lunge and flexes his thighs like a damn Calvin Klein ad for forgiveness, I flip him off from downward dog.

It only gets worse as we go on.

Trent is groaning like he’s giving birth.

Bree is whispering affirmations to Weston while he tries to maintain balance.

And Whitney—Whitney—unrolls her mat next to Chase’s and lets out this soft, breathy noise during pigeon pose that sounds exactly like a dramatized orgasm.

I pause mid-flow and blink at her.

Girl, relax your diaphragm and your thirst. Your man is right there.

That is my man, and I will fucking shank you.

Then she flirtatiously says, “Your wife must love this view.” The last thread of my patience snaps as my head turns so fast, I might sprain my entire dating history.

Chase blinks. His mouth opens and then closes. Before he can respond, I beat him to it. “Back your Brazilian Butt Lift ass up. This view is mine.”

Everyone stops moving. Even the wind seems to pause.

Whitney blinks in confusion and a little fear. “What? Roxy… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

I step off my mat like a woman ready to testify in a courtroom of bitches and almost snarl, “You did. Your man is over there.” I point at Trent. “This,” I drag my hand down Chase’s chest. “This is mine. The view belongs to me. The thighs? Mine. The shoulders? Also mine. The dick print in those grey sweat shorts? Exclusively mine.” I point at each area as I address it.

Chase chokes though he’s not even attempting to cover his grin.

Miguel drops his water bottle.

Trent says, “Yeah babe… I’m your man and I’m over here.”

Whitney flushes bright pink and quickly backs away.

Wise move, bitch.

Sasha whispers, “Hallelujah.”

I should stop there… but I don’t. I’m too raw, too jealous, and too full of feelings I haven’t dealt with.

“Chase is my husband,” I add. “Just because we’re figuring things out doesn’t mean he’s available for stretching and seduction! So, take a collective breath and back the fuck off of my man.”

There’s silence. It’s thick. It’s awkward.

Then, Bree starts clapping. Miguel joins in. Weston raises a water bottle. “To healthy boundaries.” Whitney retreats to the side of the deck like a kicked puppy and Trent scowls at her.

Well their coupling clearly needs some work.

Chase is looking at me like he’s already on his knees.

I grab my mat and storm off the deck before anyone sees the way I’m shaking.

I didn’t mean to say all of that.

Out loud.

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