Page 9 of The Dating Ban (Mind the Corbin Brothers #1)

I like Brunch

Ivy

I am never showing my face in this yoga studio again.

The moment I realise I’ve been standing the wrong way, locked in some ridiculous, romance-novel-level eye contact with Theo while an entire class watches us, my soul leaves my body.

The guy behind Theo, the one who called me out, gives me a knowing smirk as I finally turn the right way.

And Theo? Theo looks far too pleased with himself.

I will be getting my revenge.

I shake it off, force myself to focus, and try to actually listen as Safiya moves us through the rest of the class.

It’s… not as bad as I expected.

Don’t get me wrong—I am wobbling, and my muscles are already protesting, but at least I haven’t fallen flat on my face yet. Small wins.

By the time we’re in the final resting pose, I’m almost feeling serene. Who knew that lying flat on the floor with your eyes closed counts as yoga. This is my kind of yoga .

And then, of course, Theo has to ruin it.

“Comfortable?” he murmurs.

I crack one eye open, peering at him out of the corner of my vision. “You’re not supposed to talk in this part.”

He chuckles, eyes still closed, completely relaxed. “You looked like you were actually enjoying yourself.”

I shut my eye again. “Don’t make it weird.”

“Too late.”

I huff but don’t respond. I refuse to give him the satisfaction.

A few minutes later, the class ends, and everyone starts rolling up their mats. I sit up, stretching out my arms, and spot Lucy running toward us from the kids’ area.

“That was so fun!” she beams, plopping down into Theo’s lap. “Did you do good?”

Theo grins. “I did great.” He places a gentle kiss on her head and I swoon a tiny little bit. Never knew that single dads do it for me.

Lucy turns to me. “What about you, Ivy?”

I sigh dramatically. “Well, I only embarrassed myself once, so I’d say that’s a win.”

Theo finds my eyes again and I cut him off before he can say anything. “We are not talking about it,” I warn him.

Lucy looks between us, confused. “Talking about what?”

“Taxes, Ladybug,” he chuckles.

I shoot him a warning look, which he completely ignores, and pick up my mat, desperate to move on. “Right, well. That was fun. Thanks for the invite, but I should get going.”

Lucy gasps. “Wait! We always get smoothies after yoga!”

I hesitate. “You do? ”

She nods enthusiastically. “You have to come! It’s tradition!”

I glance at Theo, who just shrugs like he had nothing to do with this obvious setup. “She’s right. It’s tradition.”

I chew my lip. I could just go home. That was the plan. But I could also be half an hour late for work. I’ll just work a little longer in the evening. It’s not like I have anywhere to go.

Theo is watching me expectantly. And Lucy is looking at me with ridiculously big, hopeful eyes. And… well.

Maybe one smoothie wouldn’t hurt.

It’s just past five o’clock, and through my open window, I hear Theo’s voice from the street below.

“Alright, see you tomorrow,” he calls out to someone. There’s a muffled response—probably one of his staff—and then the unmistakable sound of keys turning in a lock.

He’s closing up.

Going home.

I haven’t seen him or Lucy since yoga on Monday. Five days.

I tell myself it’s because I’ve been busy with work, which is technically true—deadlines have been piling up, emails have been relentless, and I’ve had a shocking amount of meetings for someone who works from home.

But if I’m really honest with myself? I’ve been avoiding him .

Because I’m pretty sure there was flirting happening at yoga and when we had our smoothies.

And I cannot risk it.

I cannot fail in the first month of my dating ban. That would be tragic.

Theo is… nice. And funny. And dangerously easy to be around. Which is exactly why I need to keep my distance.

Which brings me to tonight’s plan:

Yoga.

Specifically, Yoga for Dummies, take two.

I roll out my mat in the middle of my living room, take a deep breath, and, after pressing play, make one very important adjustment from last time: I take the remote control and hide it under my sofa cushion.

No skipping ahead. No fast-forwarding. No quitting halfway through. This time, I am doing the whole thing.

I straighten up, take a deep breath, and try to relax. The instructor’s serene voice fills the room.

“Welcome. We’ll begin with some gentle breathing exercises to centre ourselves.”

I exhale slowly, determined.

I am taking this seriously.

Inhale through my nose.

I am not getting distracted.

Exhale through my mouth.

I am definitely not thinking about Theo. This time, I am committed.

I sit cross-legged on my mat, hands resting on my knees, and take a deep breath.

I can do this. I will do this. I will not get bored, skip ahead, or dramatically collapse halfway through .

“We’ll start with Cat Pose. Come onto your hands and knees, press through your palms, and round your back gently as you exhale,” the instructor says.

Alright. Hands, knees, spine up like a stretching cat—easy enough.

I move into the pose, feeling a slight stretch in my back.

Okay. This is fine. This is actually… quite nice?

We repeat the pose five times before the instructor moves on.

“Now rise to Mountain Pose, standing tall, feet firmly rooted to the ground.”

I push myself up, straightening my spine, feet planted.

I take a deep breath.

Standing here, with nothing to do but breathe, my mind starts wandering.

Who am I?

I mean, really.

What do I truly like?

The instructor continues, leading me through the next steps. Each one gets repeated five times whilst inhaling through my nose and exhaling through my mouth.

“From here, move into Standing Forward Bend.”

I fold forward, reaching for my toes. My hamstrings protest, but I breathe through it.

The thing is… I don’t know what I like.

Not really.

I’ve always just kind of adapted. I went from being married to being single to serial dating without ever really pausing to figure out what I wanted.

“Step one foot back into a Lunge.”

I carefully shift, wobbling slightly, but managing to stay upright .

I’m forty-one years old, and I don’t even know what my own hobbies are. That’s insane, right?

I know I like brunch. And cake. And… what else?

“Move into Tree Pose.”

I press one foot against my thigh, finding my balance, arms raised.

I glance at the sofa cushion where I’ve hidden the remote, momentarily tempted.

No. Focus.

I take a deep breath, grounding myself.

“Next, we’ll stretch into Standing Side Stretch Pose.”

I extend my arms overhead and lean to one side, feeling the pull along my ribs.

Ivy, you are supposed to be using these three months to figure this out.

But what if I come out of this and realise I don’t actually like anything?

What if I’m just… nothing outside of dating and work and brunch? When I was younger, I thought in my forties I’d be happily married with two kids, living somewhere in the countryside. The perfect family. Being on my own with no plan for my future wasn’t quite what I had imagined.

The instructor carries on.

“Shift into Downward Facing Dog.”

I press my hands and feet into the mat, hips raised. My arms shake a little, but I hold steady.

I mean, I’m good in my job. I was one of the youngest members of the Royal Town Planning Institute. When it comes to my career, I know what I’m doing. But I want to be more than just my job; I need to start actually paying attention to myself .

Not in a self-improvement, drink-green-smoothies way, but in a who the hell am I kind of way.

“Lower into Cobra Pose.”

I stretch forward, pressing up with my arms, feeling the arch in my back.

Pee-Pee was right. It’s time to start figuring out what makes me happy.

The instructor’s voice is soothing.

“Shift into Child’s Pose, letting your body rest.”

I fold myself down, arms extended, forehead touching the mat.

I close my eyes.

But the truth is, I have no idea where to start. Yet, for the first time, I actually want to.

“We’ll move into Seated Spinal Twist.”

I sit up, crossing one leg over the other and twisting gently.

It’s time to stop coasting.

“Extend into Seated Forward Bend.”

I lean forward, reaching for my toes even if I don’t quite get there yet.

Time to stop avoiding myself.

Finally, the instructor’s voice softens. “Now, rest in Final Relaxation Pose.”

I lie there, stretched out in my all-time favourite pose, staring at the ceiling, letting my breath settle

And then it hits me: I did it. I made it through the whole thing.

No skipping. No quitting halfway through.

No dramatically collapsing onto my mat in frustration.

I did the whole yoga routine. Okay, someone’s mind is supposed to be blank and calm when doing yoga, not full of life’s questions, but I somehow made it through .

And the weirdest part? I actually liked it.

I exhale slowly, feeling a tiny swell of something that I think might be… pride? It’s such a rare emotion for me when it comes to anything vaguely athletic, I barely recognise it.

But there it is. I enjoyed this.

Sure, I wobbled, and my hamstrings definitely hate me, but I feel… good. I let out a small laugh, the sound bouncing off the quiet walls of my flat.

Maybe this is what I’ve been missing. Not necessarily yoga itself—although apparently, I don’t hate it—but the feeling of doing something just for me. No expectations. No impressing anyone. No outside validation. Just… me, a yoga mat, and an hour spent figuring out what my body can do.