He chuckled. “I’ll survive.”
I hung up first and then stared at my phone for a long moment, like it might explain what the hell had just happened. It didn’t.
The studio was quiet again. My reflection in the darkened mirror looked like a woman who had her shit together. My high ponytail hadn’t even fallen. My matching athletic set was still perfect.
Inside, I was a fucking mess. I wasn’t brave or healed or zen or whatever the internet thought. Still, I stood up, dusted off my knees, and grabbed my water bottle.
“Right,” I muttered to no one. “Guess we’re just gonna pretend I didn’t emotionally combust right now.”
I flipped the light off and stepped outside, wondering how the hell I was supposed to carry all this into tomorrow.
As I rounded the garden gate, the faint sounds of laughter pulled me out of my spiraling thoughts.
Nova and Ollie were in the back, drinks in hand, their little girl sprinting barefoot across the grass with wild energy. Scarlette’s curls bounced as she ran, her shrieks of joy echoing off the garden walls like some kind of tonic.
“Hey, Scar,” I called, plastering on a grin. “You practicing for the Olympics or just running from bedtime?”
She stopped short, blinked at me with those big blue eyes, and gave a dramatic gasp like I’d caught her red-handed. Then she bolted straight to me and wrapped herself around my legs.
Nova looked up from the patio table and smiled. “Come in here before she cons you into chasing her for an hour.”
I gave Scarlette’s curls a quick ruffle, pried her off gently, and stepped up onto the patio.
“Will said you were working late,” Ollie said, his accent casually rolling out as he reached for another drink from the cooler.
“Yup,” I replied, too fast.
Nova arched her brow. “Your stream ended hours ago.”
I waved her off breezily. “Had some work stuff to finish in the quiet. The studio was empty. Figured I’d take advantage.”
She wasn’t buying it. Nova knew me too well. Always had. But she didn’t press, just pulled out the empty chair beside her and gave me that look—the one that saidyou don’t have to talk, but I’m not going anywhere either.
As much as I didn’t want to be around anyone right now, maybe it was better than being alone. So I sat down andpretended like my entire emotional infrastructure hadn’t just cracked in a yoga studio.
I loved Nova. She’d been my constant since we were teenagers. But it was hard sometimes, being her shadow. So much of our life had orbited around her—her mom getting sick, her mom dying, her getting pregnant, us hiding things from her ex. Finding Ollie.
Nova took a sip of wine, watching me from the rim of her glass. “Are you going to call Will?”
“What? No. God. It’s late.”
Ollie snorted softly into his beer.
Nova leaned back, one brow raised like she was bracing for the bullshit I was about to feed her.
I smiled tightly and stared out into the garden. Everything was blooming, and I was falling apart.
“Alright,” Ollie said, clapping his hands together, “I’ve got bath duty, don’t I, Scarlette?”
Scarlette gave a delighted scream and bolted toward the house, Ollie jogging after her with the patience of a saint. That left Nova and me alone on the patio, summer evening settling like a quiet spell over the garden.
“You okay?” she asked carefully.
“Peachy,” I said too quickly.
“You sure? That joke had less flavor than British food.”
I snorted, but it came out more like a sigh. My sarcasm had officially given up on me.
