Nash Brothers Box Set - Carrie Aarons Page 0,140

the schedule, and apparently, I’m her guinea pig. Not that I mind … it means a free class and a crazy good workout.

“Your customers are going to love that class. I feel like I just ran a marathon in a sauna. I may not need to work out for the next week.”

Presley shakes her head. “No, we want people to come back every day. That’s the whole point of business.”

As if she needs to worry about that. The studio is doing great and is the talk of the town. Even most of the older crowd in Fawn Hill love Presley’s senior classes on Tuesday and Thursday mornings.

“So business is doing great, but how about you and your husband?” I wink, calling Keaton by his new moniker.

She blushes. “Isn’t it so sexy that he’s my husband? Who would have thought, me, gushing over the title of the man in my life?”

“I did. From the minute I saw you two together the first time, I knew it was meant to be.” I smugly nod my head.

Presley rolls her eyes, sitting on one of the chairs near the front door to put her sneakers on. “You wear such rose-colored glasses, Lil. I love that about you.”

Something about her words snag on my heart. “And sometimes it gets me into trouble.”

My friend looks up, surveying my expression. “Uh oh, what’s going on?”

I shrug, doing that fake thing people do when they act like they don’t want to talk about it, but really they want to.

Presley catches on. “Don’t tell me nothing. Your shoulders sagged with relief when I asked what was wrong, so spill. You forget that I teach yoga for a living. It’s literally my job to read the areas in people’s bodies where they carry stress.”

“You’re right … and of course, it’s Bowen. We went to dinner the other night with Eliza, which was wonderful. You’re so lucky she is your mother-in-law.”

“I know,” Presley agrees, smiling.

I continue, “But she let slip that he is interviewing with minor league baseball teams for coaching positions. Teams in other states. Possibly even across the country. He didn’t even tell me, Pres. I feel like every time I turn around, there is another secret he’s been keeping. I hate that I’m being left in the dark.”

Past the floor-to-ceiling windows that make up the shopfront of the studio, Main Street bustles with Saturday afternoon energy.

“I thought you were doing so great, though. He told you he loves you.”

“He did. But he’s also keeping secrets. About our past, about what’s happening right under my nose. It’s my fault as well. I keep letting him get away with this stuff. I know I do; I know I’m pulling the wool over my own eyes. But part of me wants to stay in this happy little bubble for a little while longer? We love each other, right? Can’t that be enough for now?”

“It can, as long as you’re not affected by or thinking about all of those issues on a daily basis.” Presley’s expression clues me in to the fact that she knows I’m always thinking about them.

And she’s right. Because when I’m not with Bowen, pretending we don’t have any elephants sitting in every room we occupy together, I’m always thinking about them. The elephants, the issues, whatever you want to call them … they’re always on my mind.

“How can he keep these things bottled up so tightly?”

Presley smiles. A small, sympathetic smile, one that says she’s not saying what she really wants to.

“What?” My tone is all attitude.

She sighs. “Bowen is the middle child.”

“He’s one of four.” Her math makes no sense.

“That may be, but Keaton is the oldest, which makes him the golden boy. Believe me, I’m married to the man. In the eyes of his family, he can do wrong. I kind of hate him for it sometimes. And the twins are a set, they’re basically one giant baby and Eliza treats them as such. I love her, but the twins can also get away with murder and she won’t bat an eye. Bowen, he’s the middle child … he’s like me.”

My heart settles, opening to listen to her. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll never truly understand if you’re not a middle child, and I love you as much as I love yoga, but you’re an only child, Lil. You’ll never really get what it’s like to scrounge for attention, to try to live up to a sibling or appear the best in your parent’s eyes. Or,