“It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours,” London said. “Maybe he’s still working up the nerve to call, or he’s meeting with lawyers to set up that foundation, or he drank away his sorrows over having to retire and he’s too hungover to use a phone. He’ll eventually call.” She hefted the mat strap over her shoulder. “My shift starts in an hour, so I need to get out of here.”

She gave them both quick hugs before taking off in the direction of Strafford Drive where she’d parked.

“She’s right, you know,” Samiah said. “Not about the hangover, although she may be right about that too. Lord knows he has reason to get drunk. But I think if you give him time, he’ll call.” She clamped a hand on Taylor’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I need to get going myself. I have to go into the office.”

“On a Saturday?”

“Gotta make sacrifices if I’m gonna be the boss one day.”

“You got that right.” Taylor held her hand up for a high five. “Gimme some.”

Samiah obliged, but then her eyes grew wide and a smile drew across her face.

“You’ve got company,” she said.

Taylor turned in the direction she indicated.

Her breath caught.

Jamar leaned against the front of his parked Range Rover, feet braced apart, hands stuffed in the pockets of his tan corduroys. Taylor fully embraced the longing that swept through her. She’d spent most of the past week avoiding any mention of him, but ever since yesterday’s press conference, her heart fluttered like hummingbird wings within her chest just at the thought of him.

“Told you,” Samiah said. She gestured to several students from the class who still lingered. “Why don’t you finish up with these folks and then you can go to him? And you’d better text us to let us know how things go,” she added.

“I will,” Taylor said. “I’ll see you Friday night.”

“It’s next Saturday, remember? We’re getting together for Daniel’s birthday.”

“Oh yeah, right,” she said. “I knew that. See you next Saturday.”

As Taylor fielded questions about yoga poses from the two women who remained, she was hyperaware of the fact that Jamar stood less than thirty yards away. She didn’t have to look over her shoulder to know that he’d started walking toward her. She felt him in her bones.

“How much do you charge per hour as a personal trainer?” asked the woman with curly brunette hair.

“I’m sorry, but I won’t be taking on any new clients for a while,” Taylor answered. “I will continue to hold classes like this one. Keep an eye out for announcements on my Facebook page and Instagram account.”

“I will! This class was great, although I’d rather be somewhere warmer.”

So much for her new yoga trend.