Chapter 292
Then I see it. A low, cream-colored building tucked into the greenery. Large windows. Wooden accents. A stone pathway leading up to double glass doors. There’s a small wooden sign near the entrance with delicate script burned into it.
Willow Grove Prenatal Wellness.
I blink at it.
“Adrian p>
He parks and turns off the engine and turns toward me slowly, his expression so soft it leaves me breathless.
“I know you’ve been stressed about the case,” he says gently. “So I wanted to treat you to something that would help you relieve that stress p>
“B-but…” My voice feels small. I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.
He reaches over and brushes his thumb just beneath my eye, like he’s wiping away something invisible.
“I booked you for prenatal yoga,” he continues quietly. “You mentioned once that you’ve always wanted to try it p>
My breath stutters.
“And if you love it,” he adds, almost casually, “I’ll get you a membership p>
That does it. My throat tightens so suddenly I have to blink hard to keep the tears from spilling.
How can someone be so perfect?
He steps out and comes around to open my door like he always does. The air outside smells like earth and something floral… lavender, maybe.
Birdsong threads through the quiet and it feels so peaceful. Almost like I’m in an entirely different dimension and for a moment, the lawsuit, Jocelyn, Brook, Noah — all of it feels miles away.
“Okay,” he says, as I step onto the gravel. “Go enjoy yourself. I’ll pick you up in an hour and a half p>
I hesitate because walking away from him right now feels harder than it should.
“Thank you p>
He leans down and presses a soft kiss to my temple, lingering just long enough to make my knees weak, “Anything for you p>
He gives gentle nudge toward the entrance. “Go p>
The stone path crunches softly under my sandals as I walk toward the entrance. Ferns and flowering shrubs line the walkway. There’s a small water feature off to the side, a smooth trickle over stone that makes the entire place feel hushed.
Inside, the air is warm and smells faintly of eucalyptus and ginger.
The reception area is open and bright. Pale wood desk. Cream walls. Soft woven rugs. A small tea station in the corner with glass jars labeled chamomile, peppermint, raspberry leaf.
A woman behind the desk looks up and smiles like she’s been expecting me.
“You must be Sierra p>
I nod, slightly breathless. “Sorry, I hope I’m not too late p>
“Right on time,” she assures me gently. “They’re just settling in p>
She leads me down a short hallway. The farther we walk, the quieter it becomes. Then she pushes open a wide sliding door and I step into the studio.
High windows stretch nearly from floor to ceiling, letting in soft afternoon light. The pale wooden floors glow honey-gold beneath it. Cream mats are arranged in a circle, each one paired with bolsters and folded blankets.
There’s a softness to everything and a woman stands in the center of the circle, hands resting loosely at her waist. She looks up when I enter and smiles warmly.
“Ah, perfect timing,” she says.
A few of the women glance my way, friendly but curious.
“There’s one mat left,” the instructor continues, gesturing. “Looks like you finally get a partner p>
My gaze follows her hand. There’s only one open space next to a beautiful woman with almond shaped eyes. She’s seated, spine straight, hands resting over her belly. Ginger brown hair pulled back loosely.
I lower myself carefully onto the mat beside her.
“Hi,” I whisper.
She looks at me, with wide frozen eyes, but doesn’t say anything. Just continues to stare.
I frown faintly. “Are you okay p>
She blinks once then twice before giving a small shake of her head like she’s clearing it.
“Yes, sorry… I just didn’t expect to have a partner today.” She says softly and then extends her hand. “I’m Elena p>
I take it. Her fingers tense for the briefest second when our palms touch then they relax.
“Sierra p>
The instructor’s voice floats over us before either of us can say more.
“Let’s begin p>
We sit cross-legged, hands resting on our bellies.
“Close your eyes,” the instructor says gently. “Feel the weight of your body against the earth. Feel your breath p>
I obey.
At first, my mind refuses to cooperate. It’s loud. Restless. Jumping between evidence and deadlines and worst-case scenarios.