The Promises We Keep (Made for Love Book 1) (35 page)

By the time the cookies were done and we were all sitting in any available space on our kitchen counters, we made her tell us everything all over again as we enjoyed our just-out-of-the-oven treats. High from the excitement and too much sugar, she acquiesced. We didn
’
t get to bed until almost two.
Poor Avery
—
she
’
s probably a zombie this morning
. I could definitely go for a cup of coffee just now, myself, but I don
’
t have time for that. It
’
s okay, though. I will happily wear this exhaustion all day. It was so worth it, seeing Avery so unimaginably happy. I
’
ve never seen her light up the way she did last night when she was telling us about her first date with Gray.

God
—
I love that girl more than life itself. Thank you for blessing her with Grayson.

Yeah. I think it
’
s time God and I were on speaking terms, again.

When I walk into the yoga studio, I note that it
’
s just as crowded with women as the session on Wednesday. I smile as I shake my head and settle myself in the back, like before. Roman spots me from the front and comes over to say hello. I
’
m glad to see him; partly because over the last couple of days I
’
ve gotten to work with him and I
’
ve decided that I like him, and partly because my good mood just enhances all my natural feelings.

“
Good morning,
”
he says as I stand from unrolling my mat.

“
Good morning,
”
I return with a smile.

He smirks at me as he folds his arms across his chest.
“
Someone
’
s feeling better today.
”

“
I just found out last night that my sister is dating this guy that she
’
s liked
forever,
”
I blurt out.
“
And I
’
m going to ride this high for as long as my heart will let me.
”

“
So you have a sister?
”
he asks, as if he
’
s appreciative to have learned something new about me.

I nod.
“
She
’
s my other half.
”

“
Well, I
’
m glad her happiness has brought about that smile,
”
he says, backing away from me. He greets a few other women as he makes his way to the front of the room and then we get started.

It feels good to be on my mat, flowing through each movement as I work and stretch out my muscles. I relax and let my mind wander while I listen to Roman
’
s instructions. At some point, I lose my grip on
Gravery
and I slip and fall into the clutches of
my
reality. I
’
m in downward dog when the tears come. I crouch down until I
’
m resting in child
’
s pose, feeling betrayed by my emotions, which have totally taken advantage of my clear head.

“
Don
’
t run away,
”
I hear Roman whisper.
“
Stay. Push through it.
”

He
’
s gone before I can respond. I think of Beckham and the ache in my chest overwhelms me. I
’
m betrayed, again, as my heart allows jealousy to twist Avery
’
s happiness into a reflection of the contentment I felt only a week ago. Now, here I am on the floor in a yoga studio having
public meltdown number three
. I want to run. I want to get out of this suddenly stuffy room and breathe in a deep breath of fresh air.

Then I realize
—
Roman told me not to run. Before the thought even crossed my mind, he told me to stay.

I don
’
t know why I listen, but I do. By the time I tune back in to what
’
s going on around me, everyone is in downward dog, again. I press myself up and join them. For the next fifteen minutes, I cry silent tears as I push away my flight instinct and stay to fight. I wouldn
’
t necessarily call my sticking it out as strength, more like endurance. As soon as the class ends with a collective
namaste
, I
’
m rolling up my mat as fast as I can so I can get out of here.

“
Addie, wait,
”
Roman stops me at the door with a hand on my shoulder. I turn just slightly but don
’
t look him in the eyes. I
’
m still crying and the only reason I
’
ve not made my escape is because he
’
s managed to physically stop me.
“
Wait for me outside.
”
I peek up at him from underneath my eyelashes as I reach up to dry my cheeks.
“
Just wait, okay? I
’
ll be out in a minute.
”

I nod reluctantly before I turn to make my exit. My curiosity is what makes me obedient. At this point, it
’
s not as if I can ignore his request, run away, and claim embarrassment when I see him later. He
’
s seen me cry way too many times for that to fly.

True to his word, he emerges from the studio in no time; now he
’
s wearing shoes and a long-sleeved t-shirt that
’
s pushed up to his elbows. He holds his keys in one hand and his wallet in the other and he shoves both into the pockets of his gym shorts as he approaches me.

“
Come on,
”
he says without preamble. He starts making his way to the corner, leaving me behind. He catches on quickly that I
’
m not moving and stops to address me.
“
Come on,
”
he insists from where he stands, a few paces away from me.

“
What? Where?
”
I ask, still not willing to comply.

“
Across the street. Morning Glory. I'm buying you breakfast.
”

For a split second, all I can think about is the menu of decadent pancakes that exists across the street at the fabulous retro-chic diner.
Mmm. Pineapple-upside-down pancake. With coffee. Lots of coffee.
Then I remember how much Beckham loves their signature Nutella banana pancakes and my eyes well up.
Stupid tears. Stupid, stupid, stupid tears. Why can't you just leave me alone for two seconds? At least long enough for me to make it home...

“
Oh,
”
I murmur, noticing that Roman is still waiting for me.
“
I can
’
t.
”

“
Do you have to be to work?
”

“
No,
”
I answer honestly.

“
Me neither. Let
’
s go.
”

I look at him and then across the street. The line to be seated is actually pretty small, which hardly ever happens. This must be some kind of magic hour. Even still, I don
’
t think
—

“
Stop thinking,
”
he demands, pulling me from my thoughts.
“
I won't take no for an answer so there really isn
’
t anything to think about, aside from what you
’
d like to eat.
”

I adjust the strap of my purse over my shoulder and ignore his demand. I can
’
t help it. I have to think. Do I really want to go to a pity breakfast right now? That
’
s what he
’
s offering, isn
’
t it?
“
Roman, I appreciate the offer
—”

He chuckles as he makes his way back toward me.
“
I told you to stop thinking. See what trouble it has gotten you into? This is not an offer.
”
He circles his way behind me and places his hands on my shoulders before he begins gently pushing me toward the street corner.

Emotionally distraught or not, I
’
m still appalled at his audacity. I was trying to be polite but now he
’
s kind of annoying me.
“
Roman, stop,
”
I insist, shrugging his hands away before I spin to face him.
“
I said,
no thank you
.
”

He doesn
’
t even blink.
“
And I say, you don
’
t get to cry in my class
twice
and expect me to brush it off like it
’
s none of my business. Once, maybe, but twice? After the mood you were in before we started? No. As your new friend,
Mr. Yoga
has decided to make this his business. So get your little butt across the street.
”

So many thoughts. Absolutely no words.

He thinks we
’
re friends, too? How I feel is now his business? This isn
’
t a pity breakfast? Was he talking about himself in the third person? Did he really just refer to himself as Mr. Yoga?
I stop my stream of questions long enough to take in the look on his face. I can
’
t help but notice that it is quite handsome, even though his usual smile is nowhere to be found. His eyebrows are lifted expectantly and his mouth is set in a straight line, clearly conveying that he doesn
’
t intend to argue about this anymore. In fact, his whole body seems to be sending the same message. Finding that I still have no words, I turn and make my way to the corner. He follows me and we cross the street together.

The wait is fifteen minutes, unless we want to sit at the breakfast bar
—
which apparently we do. Roman leads us to two empty chairs at the far end. I take the seat closest to the wall, lower my things to the floor, and pick up the menu in front of me without speaking. I
’
m not sure if I
’
m upset or shocked or pleased or what. I
do
know that I
’
d like some coffee, which is what I tell the woman behind the bar who comes to take our drink order. I notice that Roman orders a chai latte but then I
’
m lost in my thoughts again, trying to figure out how it is that I got here.

When the woman comes back
—
Stacey is her name
—
she asks what we
’
d like for breakfast. I order a pineapple-upside-down pancake and Roman orders a breakfast burrito. If I wasn
’
t so weary of striking up a conversation, I would scoff at his choice.
This place has the best pancakes I
’
ve ever had in my life and he
’
s ordering a breakfast burrito? Really?
I shake my head as I doctor my coffee and then take a sip.
Yum
.