That’s when he and Bryce had hatched their plan, and Bryce had started doing Beau’s homework. Because his grades improved, it appeared that the tutoring was working. The next year, they were back in Rodeo Club.
They kept up the farce all through high school. Since Bryce was on the college track, they didn’t have any classes together, so Bryce even slipped into Beau’s seat in English when they had to do timed essays or tests.
Kids are pretty short-sighted, and they’d naively thought the battle was won.
“I’m sure they’ve made strides with treating dyslexia since we were in school,” Bryce said.
“I manage well enough.”
Silence. Because they both knew that he “managed” because of Bryce.
“I have to take some responsibility for this,” Bryce said. “We shouldn’t have hidden it. And we definitely shouldn’t have let it go on this long.”
Everyone believed that Beau had overcome his dyslexia. The thought of admitting that he still struggled with reading, as a full-grown man, was . . .
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Bryce said. “But you’re going to need help, brother.”
“I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
Bryce snapped his fingers. “What about Alice Martin? Doesn’t she have some fancy degrees that have to do with reading?”
She had two fancy degrees that had to do with reading.
His chest tightened like it was in a vise. Alice was the last person on earth that he wanted to ask for help. But he’d already dragged his brother down once. He wouldn’t do it again.
“We have to go into town for some errands later this morning. I’ll swing by the library and talk to her then.”
Most people hated Mondays, but Alice loved them. They were the beginning of the work week, which meant it was time to get busy. And getting busy was something Alice had always been good at.
Since this was the Year of Self-Care, she would start her day off properly, with a positive attitude and yoga. And then, according to her daily to-do list, it would be time to write in her gratitude journal. Then it would be time to go over her short-term and long-term goals—personal and career—followed by adding at least one thing to her bucket list.
Then she’d start marking things off her lists, because that was the very best part of keeping them.
1. Drink water!—Check!
2. Yoga!—Check!
3. Be happy!—Check!
Her jaw clenched over that one pesky to-do item.
Find a plus-one for Brittany’s wedding!
Carmen had actually had the nerve to suggest Beau Montgomery. That was the craziest thing she’d ever heard. Beau Montgomery would never ever in a million years want to escort her to a wedding. And even if he did—which he didn’t—she would never ever in a million years want him to.
Carmen had made some good points, but still . . . No way. Wasn’t going to happen. Not in this lifetime.
Or the next.
She rolled out her yoga mat, popped her laptop open, and found Sixty Days of Self-Affirming Yoga with Lauren on YouTube (she was on day eight). Then she assumed the cross-legged Sukhasana pose and hit Play.
Lauren calmly instructed her to inhale deeply through her nose for five counts while clearing her mind.
Beau is an excellent dancer. Not that I’ve ever danced with him.
Out through the mouth.
He is the ultimate playboy, and wouldn’t expect anything beyond one date.
In deeply through the nose.
He looks good in a suit.
Out through the mouth.
Brittany would lose her marbles if I showed up with Beau Montgomery.
In through the nose.
There is white dog hair on my black yoga pants.
Out through the mouth.
And all over the rug.
She shut her eyes—maybe a little too tightly—and brought her hands in a prayer position to her heart, which was beating more rapidly than usual.
She was failing to relax. And she didn’t feel centered at all. Her cells vibrated with the intense desire to vacuum. She tried to think of something else, and Beau’s gigantic bare-naked chest suddenly popped into her third eye. No, no, no! Don’t think about that!
She thought about it. And it knocked all of her chakras out of alignment. In fact, she almost fell off her yoga mat.
The harder she tried to force Beau’s bare chest out of her sacred mind’s eye, the bigger it got.
She wasn’t supposed to think of anything at all, much less bare chests. She scrunched her eyes shut, but the chest not only refused to leave, it inflated like one of those gigantic balloons in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade, bobbing happily right in front of her face.
Woof!
The chest popped at the sound of Gaston’s barking. Did he need out? Would he pee in the house?
She opened her eyes. Oops! Lauren had moved into a mountain pose.
Alice jumped up and assumed the same position.
This is more like it! I’m not thinking about Beau now!
She leaned over into a flat back position and tried to force the muscles in her forehead to relax. They did not cooperate, and it made her frown. Also, her jaw was clenched. Jaws weren’t supposed to do that during yoga.
She dropped to a plank just as Gaston barked again. Sultana, who’d been supervising Alice’s yoga routine from her position at the foot of the mat, could tolerate one bark, but apparently not two, so she hissed. And even though Alice loved Sultana with all her heart, when the animal stood up and arched her back, it sent a shiver through Alice’s spine, which made it hard to maintain a perfect plank.
“It’s okay, Sully,” she said, straining. “As soon as we’re done saluting the sun with joy in our hearts, we’ll put the beastie in the backyard.”
She dropped to her least favorite pose of the sun salutation—knees, chest, and chin—just as Gaston began throwing himself against her bedroom door. Alice eyed it warily. It wasn’t locked, and the latch was flimsy.
Just two more poses and then Alice would be done greeting the freaking day. She moved into upward-facing dog as Sultana began yowling, which was
