Between You Me and Us
Kate Smith
Copyright © 2020 Kate Smith
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted material in violation of the author’s rights.
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-9993893-7-6
Paperback ISBN-978-1-9993893-6-9
The Hamilton Series
Everything we Lost The Hamilton Series #1
Everything for Love The Hamilton Series #2
Never Let You Fall The Hamilton Series #3
Everything left Unsaid The Hamilton Series #4
Everything we Dream The Hamilton Series #5
Everything we Promised The Hamilton Series #6
Prologue
Every day since my trip to Toronto to attend the Celebration of Happiness, my life had grown infinitely more complicated. I’d descended deep into this new sum total of my existence. Evading phone calls. Burying myself in busyness. Avoiding the embarrassment of justifications. I couldn’t explain. Not to anyone; least of all myself.
Disappearing. Becoming the invisible woman. Enticing. If only I could accomplish complete anonymity. Fade to black.
Perspiration trickled down my back as I arched into the next pose, planting each foot with purpose, absorbing the faint burble of the diffuser and the light aroma of some supposedly uplifting and calming yoga blend.
What better way to escape responsibility and confrontation in the middle of the afternoon on a Thursday besides a yoga class? Except this room, packed with perspiring bodies wrapped in colourful spandex, made me feel even more exposed, rather than providing adequate cover.
Most of the city’s residents should be locked in corporate battle or slaving for that all-important pay cheque. So why were all these yoga devotees crammed into this tiny room when all I craved was peace and a chance to replenish my reserves?
Get back to work, slackers.
The resident yogi frowned at my smothered giggle.
I bit my lip. Hard. It wasn’t even funny. Don’t even know how that snicker sneaked out. Must be losing it.
“Breathe, everyone. Slowly. Deeply,” the yogi said. “In for five …”
I took her advice and focussed on the gurgling diffuser with its light orange and patchouli scented mist. In … one … two … Maybe that observation was directed at myself, anyway. Work was where I should be, and would be, if I hadn’t begged for one of my rare personal days.
No argument came from the head pharmacist at the hospital. “Have a relaxing day, Amara. You deserve the break,” she said, her soft words accompanied by a gentle smile. “After everything.”
Huh. Everything. My lips twisted even as I pressed my flattened palms together, forming a rock-steady tree with the sole of my foot tucked inward against my leg. My distress over Jake must be showing. Or the pain over my failure with Kyle. Or that looming fear of remaining forever alone at the ripe old age of nearing-thirty. Or maybe it was the endless tick-tock as my biological clock revved, fuelled by a wedding and endless talk about kids. Or my overall sense of doom. My full smorgasbord of angst options served up for everyone’s entertainment.
On cue, I moved into mountain pose, pushing out the tiny bosom that accompanied my touch-too-thin athletic frame.
Perhaps I wasn’t as level as I hoped, even when focussed on being the consummate professional. It seemed impossible to maintain that calm and collected external sereneness on the busiest and most stressful of days. Was I inadvertently projecting my turmoil far and wide? Maybe my colleagues rolled their eyes in the background as I mired myself in a funk.
“Lengthen those backs.” Our yogi’s gentle voice cut into my thoughts. “Breathe.”
I opened my eyes, cringing at the intensity of her stare under arched eyebrows.
Ah. In … one … two …
“And slowly into warrior.”
Jake. His refusal to cut this off. Reeling me in, begging forgiveness, apologizing, texting daily, imploring me to call him. Then he’d sent a heart-rending missive tucked inside the ridiculous kiss-up display of stargazer lilies. Lucky for him, I hadn’t dumped the whole works into the nearest trash bin.
Ha. Never. The vibrant mass of delicate blossoms tugged the slender strings of my heart, transporting me to that long-ago night. Me, bending to Jake’s emotional and masterful twist, sucked in by flowers.
“Loosen up.” A soft tap on my wrist pulled me into the present. “Relax. Breathe.”
I uncurled my fists one finger at a time and shook out my hands before stretching into the next pose. In … one … two …
Kyle. Sending me asinine, cryptic texts. No explanation. No I’m sorry. No nothing. Well, except for that “call me, we need to talk” nonsense.
Wiggling my jaw to ease the ache, I bowed into the next pose, all the while my gaze flitted left to right, right to left. Could anyone hear my teeth grinding?
“Focus,” the yogi murmured as she sidled past.
Right. In … one … two …
My not-so-lovely soon-to-be-ex-husband and his bold, “Why haven’t you been to the lawyer yet?” A stellar question from a brilliant mind. It wasn’t that I held any delusions. My marriage was kaput. Totalled. Irretrievably over. A fact I accepted. Welcomed, even. Yet my heart begged for rescue from underneath the crushing defeat, remaining raw, battered, and bruised.
“Clear your mind,” came the whisper as the slim figure stole through our contorted figures, all manifesting various renditions of an extended triangle. The gentle reminder could be for the whole class, but realistically, this was directed at me, as was her benevolent expression.
Right. In … one … two … Clear the energy. Reframe the thoughts. So many good intentions, but the unforgotten, unforgiven men from my former life skulked through my reflections, clouding me in a dense fog. Faithless men whose volley of strategic and crippling body punches sent me reeling.
I sucked for breath, searching for my sacred mantra, but finding only a dull echo. Never enough. Unlovable and unloved. Unappreciated. Irretrievably broken and bent. Beyond redemption. Or worse; over-analytical hot mess.
The counters to these floated into my mind. Okay as I am. Loved. Strong and independent.
