Ready or Not (Ready #4)(57)

But Leah had convinced me to give it another try until the pain eventually lessened, and I’d even added in yoga to my weekly routine as well. Now, it had become a sort of weekly ritual for us. On yoga days, Clare would join us, but today, it was just Leah and me.

“Hey, hippie girl,” Leah greeted, sitting next to me on one of the chairs outside the studio.

“What’s up, crazy?” I replied with a grin.

“Oh, you know, the usual. Just doing my best to stay out of trouble.”

The lock on the studio door flipped, and the lights inside suddenly turned on, announcing the instructor’s arrival.

“Yeah? How’s that working out for you?” I laughed as we rose from our chairs and headed toward the entrance along with another woman who had just walked up.

“Well, it’s only six thirty in the morning, but so far, so good.” She winked.

“Does this mean you are going to refrain from getting us kicked out of class again?” I gave her a meaningful look.

Playing innocent, she held up her hands. “I have no idea what you’re referring to. I’m always a model participant in this class.”

“Who never stops talking,” the woman next to us added with a smirk.

I burst out laughing and covered my mouth to muffle the sound, but it didn’t help. “Oh my God, she’s got you pegged, Leah! It’s true. You run your mouth from the time class starts until it ends. I have no idea how you can hold your legs at a forty-five degree angle and still maintain speech. It’s inhuman.”

She shrugged. “I’m good at it I guess.”

“Talking or Pilates?” I laughed.

“Both, bitch! Now, tell me about this sexy man and the dinner with your parents while I attempt to annoy the shit out of everyone in class.”

“Oh God, I should just leave now and save myself some money,” I huffed.

“Now, what fun would that be?”

We set up our mats on the floor and took our seats as we waited for the instructor to begin.

“Jackson is just…well—”

“He’s what?”

“Amazing.”

“Amazing?” she echoed.

“Yeah. What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. It’s just that I don’t think I’ve ever heard you describe a member of the male species as amazing. You even said it in a dreamy tone. Usually, they’re hot or sexy or good in bed…but never amazing. Well, there was that one guy who was amazing—in bed. Is that what you meant? If so, ignore everything I just said and carry on.”

“I think my head just exploded,” I said, shaking it to make sure I was still in one piece.

Spending a day with Leah was sometimes very exhausting.

“Well, which one is it?”

“Amazing. He’s just amazing. I mean, he’s fantastic in bed—okay, better than fantastic. He deserves a blue ribbon for best lay, but he’s more than that.”

“Whoa, you’re gushing—over a guy.”

“I know.” I giggled.

“And you’re not even denying it! Was that a giggle?”

I just smiled.

“I want to meet this guy.”

“You have,” I pointed out.

“For a minute doesn’t count. Also, he didn’t have a shirt on. By the way, that was weird, considering he came from your house.”

I chose not to reply, and she just laughed.

“We should throw a dinner party. Clare has been dying to have one for ages.”

“Don’t we have dinner together all the time?”

The instructor, a perky young redhead, tried to gather everyone’s attention toward the front of the room.

Who knew this many women actually enjoyed waking up this early?

“Clare thinks a dinner party sounds fancy. She loves to watch HGTV when Maddie is at dance class. She is constantly calling me with crazy ideas about dinner parties and new festive holiday decorations. The other day, she blew up my phone all afternoon with ideas for Christmas. Seriously, Liv, it’s August.”

Cupping my hand over my mouth, I leaned over and whispered, “Could it have anything to do with all the baby hormones running rampant through her system?”

“Oh, definitely, but try to tell her no. Go ahead. I dare you.”

I held out my hands in defense just as we were instructed to lie on our backs for some core exercises.

“Oh, no, I’m not stupid. Dinner party it is.”

“Good,” she whispered. “And bring the next-door hottie.”

~Jackson~

When I was younger, my father had loved watching old TV shows. The Andy Griffith Show, Lassie, and My Three Sons were some of his favorites. He’d said it reminded him of a simpler time during his childhood—when life was easier and people were far less cryptic and cynical.

Long before I was old enough to think that hanging out with my father was lame, I’d sit and watch these black-and-white classics with him, thinking about how differently people treated each other in the television world.

But I’d soon realized that it wasn’t just in TV shows. It was a way of life that had begun to die out. The simpler generation my father had so loved where people would help each other just for the sheer satisfaction of doing so seemed to be slipping through our fingers just like the old shows he used to watch.