The instructor looks our way and scolds, "Shh."
I roll my eyes and move into a child's pose.
The class soon ends, and I hug them both and head for the lobby.
I walk to the SUV. Fiona's driver stands at attention. I slide into the back with my mat strapped under my arm, every muscle in my body humming with frustration. And it's not the yoga kind. It's the Brax kind that I can't escape.
The drive to my condo is quick, and I'm rehashing the same crap I've been all week.
I rehearse what I'll say if he calls.
I rehearse what I'll say in text if he doesn't.
Then I rehearse the conversation I will absolutely never have with him because that would require us to actually see each other.
The SUV pulls up to the curb. I get out, step into my building, nod at the concierge, and ride the elevator up. I tell myself the same thing I've been repeating all week.
He's busy. You're busy. Space is normal.
Then the one thought that hurts me the most flares bright.
He's bored with me already.
My heart hurts, and I unlock the door, and my pulse betrays me. The faint scent of his cologne is unmistakable, and every part of me turns electric.
Then his voice ricochets through the condo. "Did you learn any new positions you want to try out, Minx?"
I freeze.
Brax sits on my sectional, leaning back like he owns the place. His gray T-shirt stretches across his chest. His thighs bulge against his jeans. His arrogant expression burns bright.
Flutters fill my stomach. I narrow my eyes. "Why are you here?"
He lifts a brow. "I'm not allowed to see my wife?"
"I don't know." I toss my yoga mat in the closet and spin toward him. "Are you?"
His jaw tics. "You tell me."
I unzip my hoodie, suddenly hot. "You've been ghosting me for days."
He stands abruptly. "I've been working."
"So have I."
"I know."
I can't help it. I cross my arms. "Interesting. It didn't seem like you remembered that when you asked if I cut Blue."
His mouth flattens. "I didn't ask. I wondered if you didn't tell me everything."
"That's worse."
He stalks toward me, each step slow and deliberate. I force myself not to step backward and keep breathing. He scowls. "How long are you going to stay pissed at me for asking you a question?"
"How long are you going to pretend you shouldn't have already known the answer?" I counter.
He snorts. "Because you've never cut anyone before, right?"
