Page 18 of Tight End

She’s supposed to be in back-to-back meetings all afternoon, but I should’ve known better. It’s Thursday, the one day I leave early to teach yoga at my new studio just south of downtown.

It’s also the one day my mom will make a casual appearance right around the time I need to head out. Usually she has a list of things that need to get done ASAP, and apparently no one else in the office is capable of doing any of it—doesn’t matter if she has her own secretary.

Doesn’t seem to matter that I don’t work here on Fridays either.

“I had a cancellation. It’s fine. Were you looking up football players? I hope you’re not interested in Mr. Brooks. The man is barely a step above a Neanderthal, and I’m sure the rest of the team isn’t much better. Honestly, I don’t understand the hype. It’s just a bunch of grown men knocking each other around. If you ask me, that sport is simply barbaric.”

Well, it’s a good thing no one asked her.

She’s also apparently never seen them in their uniforms.

If she’s not a fan of football players now, then she’s going to love it when I tell her I found Oliver’s dad and all the nitty-gritty details. She already read me the riot act when I told her I didn’t know who he was. But that’s next week’s problem. I’m not having that conversation until I know for sure that Ryan wants to be involved.

My phone vibrates a few more times, and after a text comes through from Poppy, telling me to quit, I flip my phone over. No need to add fuel to the fire.

I take a deep breath and spin around to face my mom, making myself smile until I see the stack of books in her arms. “What’s all this?”

“Consider it a very early birthday present.” Her smile is tight as she dumps the books in my lap and smooths out the invisible wrinkles at the front of her black blouse. “It’s never too late to start studying for the LSAT. You’re not getting any younger, June, and Oliver is old enough for you to consider going back to school. Look at your sister, your younger sister, already graduated and practicing law. Even if it is corporate law.”

Her tone is scathing, making sure her disapproval is loud and clear. I’m not sure if it’s the corporate law shedisapproves of or that she’s working with our father. My guess is both, but that’s one can of worms I’m not opening. Especially when she’s already trying to dictate my life choices—something she’s been doing since I moved back to Nashville to have Oliver.

It started out with simple things, going to the doctor she handpicked, moving into an apartment complex closer to her than to Dad. And then there’s the biggest mistake—coming to work at her law firm.

I’m positive she wanted me here so I’d fall in love with law, follow in her footsteps like Poppy, but it’s their thing, not mine.

Sure, my major set me up for law school, but after having Oliver, my life and what I thought I wanted took a left turn and headed in another direction. I was a brand-new mom with extra weight I couldn’t seem to get rid of, and depression that would have me struggling for days. I did what needed to be done—I took care of my son—but at the end of the day, I wasn’t happy with myself.

That’s when I found yoga.

I didn’t know Kinsley very well at the time, but she caught me outside my apartment one morning and practically forced me to go with her. I fell twice, but after class I felt more relaxed than I had in ages. I went back every weekend I could, even bribed Poppy into watching Oliver with baked goods from her favorite bakery.

Eventually I managed to convince the owner of the studio to let me lead a class. She said I was a born teacher, and while I was up in front of that class, something clicked inside me. I loved it. I’ve been teaching classes for the past two and a half years, and last month—with the help of my father, Poppy, andKinsley—I signed the lease on a building and opened my own studio, Hot 4 Yoga.

My following is still pretty small, but I’m trying to build up my brand, my business.

Of course, my mom thinks it’s a waste of time, a venture that will fail by the end of the year. Hence the LSAT books.

“You look tired. Are you not getting enough sleep?” She props her hands on her hips, staring down at me, her shrewd brown eyes assessing every inch of me. “It must be all the time you’re wasting with that little yoga studio. There’s no shame in quitting.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I don’t bother telling her I have no intention of taking the LSAT or giving up my studio—there’s no point. She’s got a severe case of selective hearing. If it involves work, she’s all ears, but if it’s anything that goes against what she thinks, nothing.

She glances at her watch, and I slide the books on top of my desk. “Got to run. Think about what I said.”

“I sure will.”

She tosses me another smile and turns, making her way back to her office. I roll my eyes and pick up my vibrating phone. Instead of firing off another message to my sister and Kinsley, I pull up Ryan’s text.

Me:I’m teaching a yoga class Saturday morning. It gets out at ten if you want to meet me after. I usually take Oliver to the park up the street.

Ryan:I’ll be there. Maybe not for the yoga, though. I’m not sure my body can bend like that.

And now I’m thinking of all the different ways his body can bend ... and the different ways I can bend around him. Nope. Not helpful. He probably has a girlfriend, and I am not looking to date.

It’s not happening.

So tell me why I pull up that picture on my phone and save it. You know the one.The abs.

Then before I can force myself to delete it, I shove my phone in my purse, grab the books I won’t be reading, and run out of the office before my mother has the chance to show back up.

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