Page 65 of The Now in Forever
He takes a beat, his face turned toward the ocean. When he speaks again, his words are careful. “It’s not the same. You can text him anytime you want, and he'll respond.”
“Yeah, maybe in five to ten business days.”
“My mom…” He shakes his head. “It’s different.”
He’s right. We may both have strained relationships with ourparents, but I have no idea what it’s like to have a mom battling addiction. “I talked to Robin and Anh. They’re going to back off.”
He takes my hand, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. We walk hand in hand down the beach until the stars come out one by one. As we head back, fireworks explode in the sky. We stop, and Ed puts his arms around me from behind. Without the sun, the sand is cold in between my toes, but Ed’s arms are warm around my body. We watch the light show in each other’s arms.
CHAPTER 16
FRIDAY, JULY 5TH
Iwake up in Ed’s arms, pearly gray light drifting in through the open window along with a sea breeze. My eyes are crusty, and my head is foggy. I shouldn’t have drunk so much last night. Those lemonades were sweet and tasty but lethal. I get out of bed, but Ed grabs me back.
“It’s too early.”
He’s right. But my internal alarm clock will not be silenced. “I know. You can sleep. I need a run to clear my head.”
“You really don’t mind if I sleep more? I’m exhausted.” He gives me a meaningful look through half-opened eyes. “For some reason.”
I smile, remembering us falling into bed together, making fireworks of our own after watching the ones on the beach.
“I don’t know what you’re referring to, sir.” After throwing on my running clothes, I give him a kiss on the head. “It’s totally fine. I’ll bring you coffee.”
“You’re a goddess.”
The beach and the trail are both quiet this morning. It seems everyone can sleep in but me. It’s good to feel the sweat prickle the back of my neck and the blood pump through my heart. I run up through the dirt trails, thinking about all the times Ed and I have run these trails together in our short time here. Sparklers ignite in myheart when I think about all the things we have in common—writing, running, and other unmentionable preferences. We definitely have a lot of differences, too. Like Ed can’t sit still to save his life, and on occasion I have been known to binge watch an entire season ofMurder, She Wrote, hardly moving a muscle all day, except to get snacks. Ed’s also wildly successful, and while I was nominated for teacher of the year in 2022, I don’t think anyone would call me a success without some serious prompting. Ed also… Honestly…there’s still so much I have to learn about him and him about me.
Back at the house, Anh is sitting straight as an arrow on a yoga mat on the deck, her eyes open but unfocused, her hands on either knee.
When I walk up the stairs, she looks my way and smiles. “Want to join me? I saw another mat in the mudroom.”
It’s been years since I’ve done yoga, probably since we stayed at that resort in Puerto Rico and Anh dragged us there every morning. I’m never good at stretching before and after running like I should.
“Sure.” I go inside and kick off my shoes, grabbing the light-gray mat and rolling it out next to Anh.
Anh leads us through some sun salutations and warriors. I feel so much better than when I woke up.
Robin finds us. “You two are yoga-ing without me?”
She runs back inside, coming out after about ten minutes in yoga pants and a sports bra, with a pale-pink mat tucked under her arm, rolling it out next to mine.
We flow together, Anh giving instructions. She’s so much softer when she leads yoga. They don’t feel like orders, more suggestions. She used to teach at a studio when she was an undergraduate at UCLA. She guides us into a hand-balancing pose, where we squat and tilt forward, placing palms on the floor, balancing our knees on our elbows and lifting our bodies off the ground. I wobble and fall on my face. We all laugh, and it feels like I’m nine years old again. I try again and again—we crack up as I tip too far forward each time.
I sit on my mat. “My arms aren’t strong enough for crow pose.”
Anh shakes her head. “Bullshit.”
I laugh.
But Anh continues, “You’re looking back, when you need to look out. My yoga teacher always told me tolook toward the future.”
She points to a spot beyond my mat. I gaze at it, getting into position again. Gently, I lift one leg, then the other, and suddenly I’m doing it. My feet are off the ground, my arms supporting my body.
I set my feet back down softly, smiling. “I did it.”
“You did it!” Robin cheers.
