Chapter 23
The Matchmaker’s Penance
Andrew
"Stabilize your core, Gary. Brace it."
Blonde strands whip across my face as I demonstrate, pointing at the sagging line of his spine.
His form is a disaster, but his attitude is worse.
This is our third session, and the pretense of trying has evaporated entirely.
Getting him through the studio door this morning had required the promise of coffee—bribery for a man who treats yoga like a sentence.
"How are you making this look so easy?" Gary groans, his face flushed and slick with sweat. "This is torture. I'm pretty sure yoga isn't supposed to make a man question every life choice that led him to this moment."
"It feels like torture until it doesn't," I say, suppressing a smile.
"What?!" He collapses onto his knees, the plank abandoned in a heap of defeat.
"You build strength, you build flexibility. Then yoga becomes something else entirely. It's about finding connection with your body even when it's under strain—"
"Okay, I'm done." Gary slashes the air with his thumb, collapsing onto his side. "I can't. I can't anymore today, Andrew."
I kneel in front of him, checking my watch with a sigh. "Gary, you keep making snide remarks about my waistline. Do you actually want this or not?"
"I do," he says dramatically, "but I'm done for today. Please stop torturing me. My muscles feel like jelly, and I need coffee."
"You've still got me for ten more minutes. You paid for an hour," I remind him.
"I'll still pay you the full amount. Come have a coffee with me instead. You promised coffee."
I roll my eyes, smiling. "Wow. What a quitter."
"You're so mean. You're seriously the hottest, meanest yoga instructor I've ever met. No wonder you're so popular in LA."
Feigning offense, I laugh with him. Work has been good lately, but hearing it put like that makes me realize how far I've come.
Gary stands and offers me a hand up. I don't need it, but I take it anyway.
"I can see why Vince likes you so much," he teases. "He thinks you're hilarious, though I don't see it. Quit bullying me."
"I'm not bullying you. I'm coaching you." I avoid eye contact, pretending to pick at my fingernail.
"Hey," Gary continues, narrowing his eyes, "something's weird. What's weird?"
I don't answer.
"Okay. Something's definitely weird."
I gather my things and start rolling up my mat.
"You're not telling me something. Is it because I mentioned Vince? I know Relay is over, but you guys are still talking, right? Did you confess your undying love or what?"
I laugh nervously. "Something like that."
Gary drops his mat and runs toward me, his mouth agape like a child on Christmas morning.
"No way." He grabs my arms, shaking me until my hair falls into my eyes.
"I'm mad at you for not telling me this sooner," he declares. "You made me do planks instead of spilling this tea?!"
I stare blankly at him, so he lets go and picks up his mat again. "We need coffee. Now. You're telling me everything."
The bell above the coffee shop door chimes as we step inside, the rich aroma of roasted beans enveloping us like a warm blanket. Gary leads me to a corner table, his eyes alight with anticipation as if he's just scored front-row tickets to a boxing match.
"Alright, spill," he says, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. "Every last drop."
I wrap my hands around the warm ceramic mug, the heat seeping into my palms as I stare at the dark liquid swirling within. "Where do I even start?"
"The beginning is usually good," Gary says dryly, taking a sip of his cappuccino.
I take a breath, the story tasting bitter on my tongue even before I speak. "So, Ted... it's never what it looks like from the outside."
I trace the rim of my cup with my finger, watching the condensation bead up. "He's... charming, at first. All confident smiles and expensive cologne. But underneath..."
I shake my head, the memories washing over me. "He makes these little digs about my waistline, my job, my friends. Nothing obvious enough to call him out on, just enough to make me feel small. He has this way of turning everything around so I feel like I'm the one being unreasonable."
Gary's coffee sits untouched as he leans closer, his expression shifting from amused to concerned. "Andy, why didn't you say something?"
"Because I'm an idiot," I laugh humorlessly. "Because I think maybe I'm being too sensitive. Because I've been alone for a long time and don't want to be alone anymore."
I glance up at Gary, whose eyes have softened. "But last night... that dinner... it wasn't little digs anymore."
The memory of the restaurant makes my stomach clench. "Vince organizes this double date, not knowing I've already tried to break up with Ted. So there we are, me and Vince, Sam and Ted..."
I pause, the words catching in my throat. "Ted is being awful all night. Making jokes about my attention span, about my medication... and then..."
I close my eyes, seeing it all again. "He just announces it. That I have feelings for Vince. To the entire table. In the middle of this fancy restaurant where everyone can hear."
Gary's hand covers mine on the table, his touch gentle. "Shit, Andy."
"Sam gets up and leaves. Vince storms out after her. And I end things with Ted for good."
I can't finish. The image of Vince's face after Sam leaves, the confusion and hurt in his eyes, is still too raw.
"Gary," I finally manage, looking up at him. "It was a disaster. The absolute worst moment of my life."
Gary's playful demeanor evaporates, his expression softening into something that looks remarkably like sympathy.
"I'm so sorry," he says finally, his voice dropping to a near whisper as he reaches across the table again, his fingers curling around mine in a gesture of genuine comfort.
"That sounds... incredibly humiliating. Andy, everything will be okay. "
The warmth of his hand is a stark contrast to the cold dread still coiling in my stomach. I give a small, grateful nod, but my voice comes out ragged when I finally speak. "Thanks, Gary."
Then, just as quickly as the sympathy appeared, it vanishes, replaced by the mischievous glint I've come to expect from him.
"This," he declares, leaning back in his chair with a theatrical flourish, "is better than anything on Bravo right now.
" He clutches his chest like he's just watched a dramatic season finale, his eyes wide with feigned shock.
"I mean, Ted outing you at dinner? Vince defending you?
Sam walking out? This is premium drama, Andy. Premium!"
"What's Bravo?" I ask, completely lost.
Gary nearly drops his cup, his coffee sloshing perilously close to the rim. "Are you serious? It's a TV channel. Reality shows. Housewives of Beverly Hills? Vanderpump Rules? Any of this ringing a bell?"
"Oh. I don't really watch TV," I admit, feeling a bit out of touch. "I'm more of a book person."
"Don't worry about it," Gary says, waving a dismissive hand. "Just know I'll be collecting your queer card after this coffee. You can't be gay in LA and not know Bravo. It's practically in the bylaws."
I sigh, swirling what's left in my cup, the dark liquid creating a small whirlpool in the white ceramic. "Anyway, I need your help. I'm going to get Vince back together with Sam."
The words hang in the air for a moment before Gary's reaction hits.
He spits coffee back into his cup, coughing violently as some of the hot liquid escapes and splatters across the table. A waitress rushes over with a stack of napkins as the nearest tables turn to stare, their curious eyes briefly drawn to our corner before returning to their own conversations.
"That's disgusting, Gary," I mutter, trying not to laugh as I watch him wipe his beard, which is now dripping with coffee.
"Did you really just say that to me?" he asks once he can breathe properly again, his voice hoarse. "Are you joking? Andy, have you lost your mind? After everything that happened, you want to play matchmaker?"
I push my empty cup away, the ceramic scraping against the table. "He's devastated, Gary. I can see it in his eyes every time I look at him. I ruined something good for him, something real."
Gary leans forward, his coffee forgotten. "Andy, maybe he feels the same way about you. Did you ever think of that? Maybe he's just letting things cool down."
I shake my head, the motion slow and deliberate.
"No. He chased after her, Gary. Not me. If he felt anything, anything at all, he would have stayed.
Or at least... I don't know. Admitted to me he had feelings too, when he had the chance.
Something would have been different." I wrap my arms around myself, a sudden chill prickling my skin despite the warmth of the coffee shop.
"He doesn't feel the same way. I know he doesn't."
Gary studies me, his usual playful expression replaced by something softer, more serious. "You're sure about this plan, then? Getting them back together?"
"I have to try," I say, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. "It's the only way to make things right."