“I think that’s one thing I can say for certain. Ugh, I can’t have a rhyming name.”
“Don’t take his last name,” Poppi offers.
I shake my head. “No, I’ve always dreamed of taking the last name of my husband.” I close my eyes, trying to find my center of gravity as the baby goat I’ve named Peter tries his best to stay on. He’s kind of cute. All black fur with big brown eyes. He almost…no, I can’t say that. I can’t even think it. But as the little goat stares back at me with his little triangular beard and big brown eyes, I can’t help thinking he looks a lot like Henry.
“Oh my god, my goat looks just like Henry,” I say to my friends.
Poppi laughs. “It’s just because you’re so in love. You’re seeing him everywhere you look.”
“So romantic,” Lola coos.
“It’s romantic that my fiance looks like a goat?”
“Girls, please,” Flower scoffs while moving into another pose, her body as bendy as Gumby.
We mimic her movements, trying not to laugh. I glance at my ring, the rock Henry proposed with. It shines and sparkles in all the right ways. I still can’t believe this is my life.
He told me he’d never met anyone like me before, and that he knew it was sudden, but he couldn’t stand living another day without me being his wife.
I about died of swoon fever (it’s a real condition, look it up) when he put the two-carat princess cut ring on my finger. I smile to myself, remembering back to the way his brown eyes centered on mine when he told me his five-year plan.
He said, “Marriage. Bang. Kids. Bang. Everything will fall into place with the perfect woman by my side. Then, I’ll make partner. Bang.’’
Me. The perfect woman.
We went home that night and made passionate love. Well, we would have, but Henry had had a bit too much champagne celebrating and passed out before the actual event of it all. But, it was still a perfect night.
“And just think, now you get to plan your own wedding,” Poppi says, getting back into the pose like Twisty-Curvy upfront who watches us with her evil eye.
Every girl has fantasized about their dream wedding since they were a little girl. And I am no exception to this rule. I want it to be right on the beach. I even know the spot, by the turtle sanctuary on Juno Beach where there’s a tunnel that leads from the parking lot, to the sand. You can’t be from Florida and not want a beach wedding. And yes, I want to walk out of the tunnel like walking down an aisle. I can almost see it. I close my eyes with a smile on my face as I try to picture it all with Henry.
“This goat is infatuated with my left boob,” Lola says, bringing me back to reality.
I pop open my eyes and try not to laugh as Lola tries to keep a crab pose steady as her own baby goat gnaws at her tank top.
“He thinks you’re his mother,” Poppi says as Flower gives her a nasty look. Poppi just glares right back at her.
“Well, I’m not.” Lola glances at the front of the class, trying to get the instructor’s attention, hoping she’ll stop class once she sees Lola’s goat sexually assaulting her.
And then it’s like everything takes a turn for the worse. As if the whole world explodes into slow motion. Poppi’s wandering goat tries to mount the Flower, and I try my best to stifle my laughter as she loses control and comes crashing down to her mat. “Will you please come get your goat,” she yells at Poppi.
Poppi stands and heads to the front of the class as quickly as she can.
I stop posing and hold Peter close to me.
But Lola has completely lost control of her animal, and he kicks his heels together and jumps off her. He’s been spooked and rushes to the front of the class, knocking over Flower and her goat.
It’s seriously like goats gone wild in here.
A few of the other goats trample around, trying to knock everyone and everything over in their path.
Peter bucks against my arms, and I can no longer hold him back.
And then the unimaginable happens. As if goats going crazy in a yoga studio isn’t bad enough, my engagement ring knocks loose, and Peter swallows it as I let out a howl.
“Noooooo. My goat ate my ring.” My squeals halt all the activity and everyone stands still, watching Peter with his little innocent face.
I can’t believe this is happening.
“Wow, goat yoga is intense,” Poppi says under her breath as the Flower looks like she could breathe out fire at any moment.
I think it goes without saying we all get kicked out. But, not until I’ve been assured by the farmer of the goats that we just have to wait a few days before I can get my ring back. Yes, you guessed it. I have to wait for a goat to poop out my engagement ring. I hope this isn’t an omen as to how my marriage will go.
NKAS (title coming soon) releases April 7th.
Add to your TBR: http://bit.ly/NKAS_LC
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