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who cares when you have an adorable French accent! I had to admit that Henri was quite the catch—tall and muscular with a big easy smile.
    Mind you, when I looked around the room, it was clear that Emi had some competition. I’d never seen so many primped women in low-cut tops in a yoga studio before. Still, my money was on Emi. Emi happens to be gorgeous, with long blonde hair and a killer bod. And the other women’s push-up bras couldn’t compete with Emi’s natural assets!
    Even though Emi had had to drag me to yoga, I was pleased I’d come. After the stress and heartbreak of the last two weeks, I needed to get out and do something. Anything. There are only so many days you can spend crying in bed, and I’d definitely exceeded my quota for the year.
    The last few weeks had been a nightmarish whirlwind. The day after breaking up with Nick, his story hit the press in earnest. A full-size picture of him and me was splashed over the front of the New York Times business section, with the bold headline “How a Rising Star Fell from Grace.” My name wasn’t mentioned in the article, but my picture was there for all the world to see.
    On the upside, I had spoken to the SEC and had been officially cleared of any wrongdoing. It seemed that Nick had devised a trading scam using intel Josh was getting from his parents’ printing press. They were well known around town for printing corporate documents like prospectuses and takeover documents.
    I still couldn’t believe Nick had been involved. It made me angry and sad. He’d ruined everything—his life, my life, our relationship—all for a couple of pathetic friends.
    A triangle sounded the end of the class. Usually I’d be feeling good and exercise tired by this point, but today I just felt drained and depressed.
    Looking around the class, I saw that Emi was rolling up her yoga mat and that Henri seemed to be making a beeline toward her. Typical! Emi always got the hot guys. Not wanting to interrupt, I went into the change room to collect my things. I overheard a number of the other girls happily chatting about how cute Henri was and how amazing his classes were.
    After what seemed like an eternity, Emi came and found me. Squeezing my hand, she whispered, “Thanks so much for coming,” before gushing, “Isn’t he totally adorable?”
    “Well?” I questioned.
    For a moment Emi looked like she wasn’t going to say any more, but then she blurted out, “So Henri has invited me over to his place. He’s going to cook me something French. Isn’t that so sweet?”
    “Let me guess, you’re getting a one-on-one yoga lesson after dinner,” I snorted before more graciously adding, “I can’t believe you’re getting a French hottie to cook for you. Nick was a terrible cook; the most I ever got was scrambled eggs.”
    “Ah,” said Emi sagely, “but Nick did spoil you with some beautiful things.”
    Protectively, I hugged my Jimmy Choo tote to my shoulder. It was just one of the many gorgeous things Nick had bought me. I still couldn’t believe we’d broken up. Deep down I knew it was for the best, but I had these competing emotions raging in me—I missed Nick like crazy on the one hand, but on the other hand, I was still extremely angry that he’d hidden so many things from me. It was this last thought that kept me from calling him, even though, like a deranged stalker, I thought about him pretty much every second of the day.
    Emi flicked on her iPhone. “Good,” she said approvingly. “Sal is already at Café Nush and has got us a table.”
    Brunch at Café Nush was our Saturday morning ritual (break-ups aside). Even when Sal and I were crazy busy at work and having to do the weekend slog, we always tried to make brunch. It was so nice to catch up and sip lattes, and the organic eggs were to die for.
    Sal was already sitting at a window table waiting for us. Her long auburn hair was swept into a ponytail and her pretty lips were pursed in a slight pout as