Page 26 of Fresh Start
Leo
Last night had ended up... interesting.
I’d expected to bump into Dawson again. That much was unavoidable when staying in the same small town at the same bed & breakfast, but I hadn’t expected an interaction with Summer and him.
He’d been so kind and nice to her, putting on Strong’s voice to entertain her and trying not to contradict me and my attempt at disciplining my niece. It was sweet of him. And God, so fucking sexy.
People always obsessed about the bad boys, the rule breakers, the rebels. I never cared much for them. I always crushed on the gentle souls, the kind men, the beautiful souls that didn’t let anything in their life, good or bad, get them down and never let any negativity infiltrate in their interactions with others.
Was it ironic of me to like something I wasn’t? Fuck no. Part of the reason that I liked good boys was because I wanted to be one but had always found it hard.
Especially when my effort at being good was being squashed by coming face to face with my past.
But then again, he had agreed to playing with Summer today and going to the tour with us. Not that I wanted him there, but he didn’t have to say yes to that. I couldn’t ever imagine him saying yes to all the invitations he received, even if they were from the younger fans.
Then again, who guaranteed he actually meant it? Dawson had made lots of promises in the past and kept none of them. For all I knew, this was another one of those empty promises he had no intention of following through with.
That’s why I couldn’t let Dawson’s behavior from yesterday change or affect me in any way. He was a self-centered pig in disguise, and no amount of good manners would ever change the fact.
As I opened my eyes and looked at the ceiling illuminated by the fresh morning light, I gave myself a list.
Don’t interact with Dawson.
Don’t let him get under your skin.
Spend time meditating.
Fix things with the family.
That was all of it. I couldn’t let anything else get in my way and risk either my big break or my sobriety. Both were too important to lose.
I sprang out of bed and opened my balcony doors to let the cool breeze in before the temperature rose for the day. It was only eight in the morning, so if I went for breakfast now, I might avoid Dawson.
Or he might have had the same idea to go up early, which meant we’d have to face each other.
My foot tapped on the floor without me realizing, and before I got too worked up, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, counted to ten, and let it all go.
When I opened my eyes again, the solution was right in front of me. I’d have breakfast somewhere else. It was actually the perfect opportunity to explore all the new places in Cedarwood Beach on my own.
Yes, that’s what I was going to do.
And with that thought, I jumped in the shower and got back into my morning routine, burying Dawson to the back of my mind. As I got ready to leave the room, I picked up the festival brochure and walked out the front door and joined the other early risers out and about on the main street.
By the time I was done with breakfast at a new cafe called Coffee Tops that was full of hot baristas that had latte art down to a T, I’d already decided what my next activity was going to be.
There was a yoga class starting in half an hour, and considering I was now addicted to them and wouldn’t be going to Beth’s classes for at least the next two weeks, it was a no-brainer.
The class was being held at the back of the Orangery, a traditional brunch cafe which had been ran by Mrs. Pinkerton back in the day and had a back garden decorated with fairy lights and old china nailed on the walls.
I made my way to the Orangery, and when I got there, I almost changed my mind. There was a big line of elderly ladies and a couple of gents waiting inside to go through the narrow corridor to the back, and the last person in that line was none other than my own grandma.
“Yaya,” I said. “What are you doing here?”
Yaya turned, and her face lit up when she saw me. I’d never seen her in yoga pants before, but there was a first time for everything. Besides, I was glad to see her in shape at her age. If only I can look as fit and athletic when I’m seventy-four, then I’d die a happy man.
“I’m doing the yoga class. What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Same,” I said. “I didn’t know you’re into yoga. That’s so cool, Yaya.”
