The Yes Factor - Erin Spencer Page 0,37
her glass, as the Chardonnay soaks into the comforter.
I laugh, happy that the tension of the drive home has been dispelled. But why did she practically run away from that guy, Devon? I know I should let it go. I’m just happy she’s going to get back on the saddle…or at least, the yoga mat.
Chapter Nine
Grin and Bear it
BEX
I lie back in bed and mull through the day’s roller coaster of emotions. The high of running in to Devon in person. The low of fighting with Liv. I still wish I’d gotten Devon’s number, although there’s nothing that can be done about it now. But, his lips so close to my ear…I tingle all over recalling that moment.
And, well, the fight with Liv. I’m not going to say I enjoyed it, but it did clear the air. Why can’t relationships be like what Liv and I have? Things are so different with significant others than they are with friends. With friends we forgive so easily. They screw up; they say the wrong thing; they are who they are and we accept them. Sure there may be a few fights along the way but they quickly blow over and the friendship continues even stronger. With relationships, they screw up; they say the wrong thing, and we straight up lose our shit. Fights happen, resentment grows, bitterness creeps in and the relationship starts to rot from within.
I wish Patrick and I had had more of what Liv and I have. One wrong sentence from Patrick and I’d be wounded for a day, sulking, and stomping off to “work on a project” rather than try to resolve the situation. I nursed a grudge while he watched ESPN, ignoring that there was even a problem. I’d stew about how he didn’t give me enough attention when, in fact, maybe I bear some of the blame, too. I could have been more forgiving, less defensive, more open. I could have gone to him instead of waiting for him to come to me.
Liv and I can argue, apologize, let it all go and come back together stronger. But with Patrick, well, we just drifted and fizzled until there was nothing left, like a helium balloon that, after the party ends, eventually lands on the ground, wilted and lifeless. Once my marriage flatlined it couldn’t be resuscitated.
I can’t deny that I’m content, calling my own shots, and living life on my own terms. I like being in the driver’s seat and having my life revolve around Maddie and me. Maybe, when it comes right down to it, I don’t really want to meet someone, so I’ve been self-sabotaging all this time. I don’t want a man to come in and take over my life and time, telling me what to do, like Patrick always did. And I know I don’t want to be doing any more laundry than I’m already doing! But good sex and daily conversation with an adult would be nice. Really nice.
What’s weighing on me more though is Liv. I need to figure out what’s going on with her. Not taking Ethan’s call in the car is very suspicious.
Meanwhile, why not go to yoga tomorrow. I guess I’m ready for it. There’s no hiding the remnants of the baby weight pooch that I haven’t been able to get rid of, even though I’ve had thirteen years to try. But, my legs are still in good shape and my muffin top is nothing a cute tank won’t hide.
I grab my phone and search LoftYoga to get a look at what we’re getting ourselves into tomorrow. I don’t want any more surprises like the “house party.” I’m not against yoga, but I’m more of a Zumba girl. I have a hard time quieting my mind for meditation, plus, chanting gives me the giggles. One glance at their website proves what I had suspected—cult yoga! “Guru Stan” looks like a mash-up of an ’80s rocker and Richard Simmons before he went into hiding. With that amount of hairspray and spandex, it looks like he’s spent more time seeking nirvana in the Hollywood Hills than the Himalayans. I click on Testimonials and settle into the covers like I’m about to start a binge watch of Designing Women. There are tons of frou-frou quotes from Guru Stan’s devotees with names like Lark Angel, Moonwater, Willow Rain, and my personal favorite, Skip Stone. They’ve all written glowing reviews about how Guru Stan has led them on a path to “the