Page 3 of Deadly Sins: Lust

“Does he talk to you about her?”

I shook my head. “We talk about everythingbuther.”

“Do you talk tohimabout Shelby?”

I sighed. “Not much.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not sure I would be able to keep it together if I did, and I don’t want him to see me like that.”

“Like what?”

Vulnerable.

“You know,” she said, “allowing him to see you for who you are isn’t such a bad thing. Is it?”

“I still have a lot of guilt over what happened, I guess.”

“Have you been doing anything to work through it?”

I shrugged. “I’m here. That’s something.”

“It’s a good place to start.” She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. “Have you ever been to yoga?”

Yoga? Why were we talking about yoga?

“A few times.”

“I’m not talking about classes on stretching.”

“What other kind is there?”

“There’s a man who lives in the city. Kalu Amaro. He teaches a couple of meditation classes each week. His classes are about connecting to yourself, loving yourself, learning to let go, to forgive yourself, to forgive others.”

My phone buzzed inside my pocket. I ignored it.

“Would you ever consider trying something like that?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe?”

She walked to her desk and pulled a card from a drawer, offering it to me. The front of it said Inner Yoga, Mind, Body, and Soul. My way of working through things had always been jiu—jitsu, a more hands—on, aggressive approach. Yoga seemed too quiet, a practice that would push me more into my head, not pull me out of it.

I took the card and tucked it inside my pocket. My phone vibrated again.

“Sorry,” I said. “I should have turned it off.”

She swished a hand through the air. “If you need to see who’s calling, go ahead.”

I removed my phone and eyed it curiously. I had two missed calls from Nick Calhoun, a detective—and a man I’d been engaged to when I lived in Park City. We’d worked together to solve Shelby’s murder, and aside from a text he’d sent months ago asking how I was doing. I’d not heard from him since. He was married. I was engaged. He wouldn’t be calling unless it was important.

I slung my bag over my shoulder and stood. “I need to make a call. I’m sorry.”

She seemed unfazed. “It’s all right. These things happen. I’d like to see you again. Next week?”

“Let me see what I have going and get back to you. And I’ll ... ahh ... consider giving the meditation class a try.”

She smiled. “If I can add one more thing before you go?”