Page 45 of 10 Rings I Hate About You
Or had I always?
But I’d never acknowledged it. It was filed away in that mental folder because acknowledging it would mean?—
What exactly?
That I wanted something I couldn’t control? Couldn’t plan for? Couldn’t guarantee it wouldn’t end in disaster?
I remembered standing across the street from her shop when she moved in three months ago, watching her laugh with Cheryl while the sunlight caught the purple in her hair. She’d been so animated; her hands gesturing wildly as she told some story I couldn’t hear.
I’d told myself I was annoyed by how loud she was. How expressive.
Now I wondered if any of that had been true, or if I’d been uncomfortable with how much I liked watching her. How much I liked the way she moved through the world like she belonged in it. How muchIwanted to be the one who made her laugh like that.
How much I just …liked her.
Damn it. This was a big fucking problem that I had no idea what to do with.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. The words felt inadequate. “I should’ve spoken to you privately before putting my concerns out to the general public. That wasn’t fair. It wasn’t respectful. And you deserved better.”
Her expression shifted—just slightly. The hard edges softened. The tension in her shoulders eased.
“Thank you.”
Two words. That was all.
But relief loosened the tightness in my chest I hadn’t realized was there. Like I’d been holding my breath for days and could finally exhale.
I tapped my pen against my clipboard. “Are you ready to discuss next steps?”
She nodded, and a small smile tugged at her lips. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”
We talked about logistics—sessions, space, and timing. The conversation was smoother now, but not easy. We still disagreed more than we agreed. But the way we disagreed had changed. Less combative and more collaborative.
It felt like progress. Small, but real.
Talking to her was getting easier. “I spoke with Theo earlier about how many sessions he thinks would assist in getting a spotlight on the animals here.” She leaned forward as I spoke, and I found myself mirroring the movement. “He suggested one a week for four weeks. There’s a room just beyond where the cats are housed that’s being used as storage now, but if we can move the items, it would make a decent-sized yoga space.”
She considered it. “Can I take a look today to see the size? Before we decide on a class size, I want to make sure that there’s enough room for everyone to stretch out, and to accommodate the animals’ needs.”
I nodded. “That’s reasonable.”
“I think if we give ourselves the next month or two to plan, that should be sufficient time for us to work out any logistical issues.”And it might get us past the date the grant committee could possibly stop by for a visit. “We’ll need protocols for animal handling, participant waivers, emergency procedures?—”
“Marc.” Her voice cut through my fast moving thoughts.
I looked up.
“That timeline’s fine with me,” she said.
“Okay. Good.” I let out a breath, working to slow my thoughts and my part of our conversation. “If you flip to the last three pages, I have the current list of animals at the shelter.”
As she flipped through, her eyebrows rose. “You categorized by temperament?”
“Yes. And startle response. Also, food motivation, because that will be relevant for managing behavior during sessions.”
“That’s … very you.”
I studied her face. “I’m choosing to interpret that as a compliment.”
