I snort at her calling him that now. Because it’s true. He is a turd. “Yeah. I was going to travel.”
“With the turd,” she adds.
“With the turd.” I laugh, shaking my head.
“The trash takes itself out.”
I giggle, the sound surprising and real. “Did you just quote Taylor Swift?”
She shrugs. “Girl is wise.”
I can’t remember the last time I laughed over a casual breakfast. Lately, breakfast for me has been a protein shake on the way home from the gym. My nervous system thanks me for this moment. It needed a vacation too.
“You can stay here,” she continues. “Work on getting back on your feet. No pressure, just breathe.”
Relief fills me, and the fear eases up a little.
I wrap my hands around my ceramic coffee mug and let the warmth seep into me like a hug.
Maybe this is exactly what I need. Where else can I go? Back to the penthouse that I shared with Tyler? Back to the job that I’ve already taken six weeks off from for my extended honeymoon? The paparazzi are probably chomping at the bit to figure out what happened and where I disappeared to. If I went back home, it would be a nightmare. I would have no privacy. Here, at least nobody but Birdie seems to know me. She’s my safe spot.
I think it’s settled.
We finished breakfast, and I feel better. Nothing can fix a bad day better than a Birdie honey biscuit, and that’s proved true once again.
Birdie hums as we clear the table. I wash up our dishes and set them in the dishwasher. I’m still wrapped in that fragile feeling that everything is unstable.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you. We’re going to yoga,” Birdie says brightly.
“We?” I blink. “I have never done yoga in my life.”
Of course, this woman isn’t going to take no for an answer.
“Shoes on,” she calls as she disappears down the hall, returning with two rolled mats strapped neatly together with matching water bottles, like she’s had this planned.
“Matching,” she says proudly. “Because I’m thrilled to have a new yoga partner.”
I stare at the pink and teal mats that are entirely too cheerful for this early morning, when I’m fighting a hangover.
“I don’t know how I feel about yoga,” I admit as I go to my room to throw on a sports bra. “I’m more of a cardio person, Birdie.”
“I know. You and your running, I swear. You wouldn’t catch me running. And if you did, you should find out what’s chasing me,” she says as I hear her filling up our water bottles.
I slide on flip-flops by the door where Birdie always has extras.
Birdie pats my arm. “You’re going to love yoga.”
“Have you ever done yoga?” I ask as I eye the brand-new mats.
“No, but we have a new class that Summer teaches, and I have been dying to try it out,” she says excitedly.
The beach is already bustling with people when we arrive. We make our way past them to a quieter area where waves roll in steadily off in the distance. The sand is warm as I slide my flip-flops off and feel it between my toes. God, I missed this. When was the last time I felt the sun on me and the sand under my feet? When was the last time I let myself feelanything?
Someone who looks like she could be a sister to me stands on her mat at the front of the class. She has long blonde hair like mine and green eyes, and she smiles as we walk up. “Hi, Birdie. Glad you two could make it.”
Birdie waves. “Hello. This is my Silvie.”
My Silvie. I smile at how she introduces me. She’s always done that for as long as I can remember.
