Ralph circles around a couple more times in the space I cleared for her before she seems satisfied and curls into a ball, still purring. I pet her for a while until she falls asleep, then quietly climb out of bed to do some stretching. Ralph stirs and lifts her head to watch as I lower to my knees to get into a downward-facing dog position, but when she sees that my spot on the bed is empty, she gets up and lies down in the warmth I left behind.

“Oh, I see how it is,” I mutter, eyeing her betrayal as I turn myself into a triangle and feel the stretch all the way down my hamstrings with my feet flat on the floor. I breathe into the stretch, feeling the tight knots in my muscles surrender, and after a few counts, I walk my hands closer to my feet, deepening the sensation until my body hums with it.

On the exhale, I breathe out all the swirling thoughts and legal jargon jumbling around in my head, letting the endless parade of torts and statutes dissolve into the ether. With each inhale, I draw in calm; with each exhale, I release the tension coiled at the base of my spine. The next time I breathe out, I feel centered in a way that eluded me all afternoon.

I lower down into cobra pose, arching my back, and my phone rings on the bed, startling Ralph awake. I lunge off the floor and fumble around in the mess on my bed looking for my phone until I find it. It’s not a number I recognize, but I swipe to answer it anyway.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Hannah.” Declan’s voice comes through my cell’s speaker, rich and deep, and I almost drop the phone.

“How did you get my number?” I ask, my eyes widening.

“Your dad gave it to me.”

I collapse into a sitting position with my back against the side of my bed as my stomach performs a series of Olympic-worthy gymnastics. If my father handed my number out to him, does that mean that Declan told him about how we met?

“Oh god, please tell me you didn’t⁠—”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him anything,” he reassures me quickly. “As far as I know, he doesn’t have a clue about anything that happened between us.”

Relief floods through me so fast it leaves me dizzy. “Then why did he give you my phone number?”

“Because he thinks I might benefit from some yoga to help with my hip flexibility. He said you’re the perfect person to help me with that, and you know what? I agree.”

My mind immediately jumps to a million dirty places as vivid memories of the night we spent together assault my senses—his hands gripping my hips, my legs wrapped around his waist, positions that would make a contortionist blush.