Page 131 of Untying the Knot
“What’s happening?” Myla asks.
“I have no fucking clue, but I just want you to know, whatever it is, I didn’t know this was happening. Please believe me.” Panic laces my voice because it seems like whatever we’re going to do will be intimate.
“I believe you, Ryot,” she says. “I’m not mad.”
“I know, I just . . . I don’t know what’s happening, and I don’t want you thinking I planned this.”
“I know,” she says. “But it seems like we’re in this now, so I guess we need to find a spot in the pool that’s more private. How about over here?” She motions to a curve in the pool, where a low-hanging palm offers some privacy.
“Yeah, that works.” We head over there, and then both lean against the pool wall as I watch the other couples find spots while clinging tightly to each other.
“My name is Mel, and I’m going to be your guide this morning,” the instructor says as she sits on a yoga mat at the edge of the pool and switches on her light, instrumental music. “We’re here to reconnect with our partners. I’m going to be quiet most of the time, just giving you emotional cues when necessary.”
“Oh shit,” I whisper, my muscles tensing. “Uh . . . Myla, we can leave.”
“No, we can’t,” she says.
“Yes, I can make an excuse. I’ll tell them that I forgot I have a meeting.”
“You’re going to lie about a meeting when you’re in business with these guys? You don’t think they aren’t going to ask you what the meeting is about?”
“Could be about sponsorship stuff.”
“Okay, everyone, take in a deep breath and then get comfortable with your partner,” Mel says in a quiet tone.
Panic races up my spine. “Here, we can just sneak out right here, and I’ll explain later.”
“It’s fine, Ryot,” she says. “Maybe she can’t see us over here, and we can just—”
“Behind the palm over there, are you guys able to hear me?”
“Uh, yeah,” I say and then clear my throat. “Actually, we—”
“We’re just trying to figure out how to get comfortable,” Myla says over me.
“Oh, well, just wrap your arms and legs around your partner and face him. Whatever works for you.”
“Thanks.” Myla turns toward me and says, “Lean against the pool wall.”
“Myla, seriously, we don’t—”
“It might be good for us,” she says, her eyes meeting mine. “Who knows, maybe we’ll find some mutual ground.”
Or I might get hard as shit with my fine-as-hell, soon-to-be ex-wife straddling me.
Before I can say anything, she slips her arms around my neck, presses her body to mine, and wraps her legs around my waist.
Fuck.
Me.
“This okay?” she asks softly.
No.
Not even a little.
Because I miss you. Because I fucked up, and I want nothing more than to keep you like this, in my arms, and never let go.
