He wipes his hands on a tea towel, thinking for a second before answering. “Cornwall.”
I blink. “Cornwall?”
He smirks. “Yeah. Not exactly where you’d expect, right?”
“I thought you are going to tell me about some exoticashramin India or so.” I shift on my stool. “Why Cornwall?”
He leans against the counter. “Two years ago, I had my burnout, and my family basically staged an intervention. Told me I had to take two weeks off, no arguments. Theyall pooled together to take care of Lucy, and I—reluctantly—agreed.”
I rest my face on my hand. “They sent you away?”
“They strongly encouraged me,” he corrects with a dry smile. “I was barely functioning at that point, so I didn’t have much of a fight left in me. And I figured if I was going anywhere, it might as well be somewhere I had good memories of. When I was a teenager, I went to Cornwall to surf, and it was great. Thought I’d relive my glory days.”
I raise an eyebrow. “And?”
He exhales a laugh. “Waves were shit.”
I snort. “Brutal.”
“Yeah. So I was stuck in this tiny beach town, no surf, no real plan, and kind of miserable. And then the lady who ran my B&B, Margaret, decided I was a ‘troubled soul’ and dragged me to her senior citizen yoga class.”
My lips twitch. “You did yoga with retirees?”
“Every morning for two weeks. I was the youngest person there by about thirty years. And also the least flexible.”
I let out a short laugh. “That’s amazing.”
“Honestly? It kind of was,” he admits. “It forced me to slow down, to actually be in my body instead of just running on autopilot. When I got back, I kept it up. Now I do yoga three or four times a week… mostly at home when Lu is in bed.”
I pout, pensively. “And the Monday class?”
“That one’s for Lucy.” His smirk softens slightly. “She likes it. Monday’s our thing. Family yoga.”
Something about that sticks with me, settling somewhere deep in my chest.
Family yoga.
I swallow, looking down at where my fingers are idly tapping on the counter. I don’t know why that hits me, but it does.
“You’re a good dad,” I say, almost without thinking.
Theo’s brows lift slightly, like I’ve surprised him. He lets out a small breath, shaking his head. “I try. Why did you give yoga a try?”
“My therapist put me on the dating ban to find myself. After my divorce, which wasn’t really amiable although by now I am glad I’m no longer with the knobhead. We weren’t right, I just couldn’t see it. So, after my divorce, I went a bit rogue and became a serial dater.” I’m not sure why I tell him all of this. I didn’t need to.
I carefully glance at him. There is no judgment, no pity in his face, just curiosity. He wants to know things about me; he wants to get to know me. A tiny alarm bell goes off, but I silence it with the thought that friends do that as well. Doesn’t have to be a romantic thing.
“Barry… my ex, cheated on me. We had a rough few years in our marriage after we found out I can’t have children, but I didn’t want to believe the doctors.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Ivy.” He leans forward and gently squeezes my arm. I know he means the children thing but I don’t elaborate. I don’t like talking about it.
“To be honest, I think I only married Barry because I wanted a family. I‘m definitely better off without him, only I was focused on one goal so long, I kind of don’t know myself. So here I am, trying to find myself… by not dying doing yoga.”
“You should be proud of that.” I can see in his eyes that he means it. Even more, he is proud of me.
For some reason, that makes me want to say something else, to fill the space with a joke or a quip, but nothing comes to mind. Before I can figure out what to say, my stomach betrays me with a loud, undeniable grumble.
“Hungry?” Theo breaks the tension with a smirk.
