I take it, grateful for the anonymity.
But as I unroll my mat, Celeste's eyes find mine across the space. Her smile widens.
"Grace, darling. Come to the front. I want you beside me."
Every head turns.
My stomach drops.
I swallow hard and step onto the polished teak platform, feeling like a fraud as I move toward the front.
"Lovely to have you join us." Celeste's hand extends toward the empty mat beside hers. "Please."
The perky blonde in hot pink on the other side glances over, her ponytail swishing as she turns to stare me down.
I unroll my mat between them, hyper-aware of every rustle, every breath.
"Have you practiced yoga before?" Celeste asks, settling into a seated position with impossible grace.
"Yes." The word comes out smaller than I intended.
"Wonderful." Her smile widens.
Celeste rises to standing, her white linen flowing like she's choreographed every movement. "Let's begin."
What follows is sixty minutes of torture disguised as wellness.
My hamstrings scream during forward folds. My arms shake while in a plank. And even though I’ve been practicing for this, I still flail my way through.
"Breathe into the discomfort," Celeste instructs, voice serene as she watches me struggle to hold warrior two. "The body remembers what the mind forgets."
Sweat pools at my lower back. My thighs burn.
Dove is on the other side of her mother, executing each pose with mechanical precision.
When we finally sink into savasana, I could weep with relief. My muscles feel like overcooked noodles.
The sound of ocean waves plays from hidden speakers. Someone lights incense. I close my eyes and try not to think about how thoroughly I just embarrassed myself.
"Beautiful work, everyone." Celeste's voice pulls us back. "Namaste."
"Namaste," the group echoes.
I scramble to my feet, rolling up my mat with shaking hands. Other women chat quietly, gathering their water bottles and designer yoga bags.
Celeste appears at my elbow. She’s pulled her linen caftan over her yoga set.
“How long have you been practicing for, darling?”
Heat crawls up my neck. “Uh, about a month.” Regret flickers in my mind. Should I have said longer? Does it make our relationship sound fake because I just started. “Asher told me about your studios, and I wanted to try even though I’d never done it before. It’s been amazing for my body, but I’m still getting the hang of it.”
That seems to appease her. "I can see you're not used to listening to your body." Her fingers brush my shoulder, adjusting my posture. "You hold so much tension here. In your shoulders. Your hips."
Dove spares me a glance as she moves toward the exit.
"Come." Celeste links her arm through mine. "Let's walk together to breakfast."
The stone path winds through the morning mist as Celeste steps beside me in fluid silence.
