Page 112 of A Lot Like Adiós
Screw it. She was sleeping on the sofa tonight.
GABE SAT ONhis couch, reading through the papers that would take his company away from him. These were the preliminary steps, he could see. There was room for his own negotiations and requests. And Fabian had already included a lot of the things Gabe would have asked for—for example, being able to use some form of the wordagilityin the future, since they’d chosen it because of the similarity to Aguilar.
As the original owners, they’d have lifetime access to the Santa Monica gym and any New York City locations that were opened, but since Powell planned to franchise the name, they wouldn’t be granted memberships at locations owned by other people.
And so on, and so on. An incredible number of tiny details, all of which Gabe was expected to weigh in on.
Coupled with that was the guilt of ignoring the daily operations at the gym. Fabian had left it in Charisse’s capable hands, but Gabe felt bad about having been gone for more days than he’d planned, and now that he was back, he was sitting at home planning to sell it.
Gabe made a few notes about what sort of packages would be given to employees who chose to leave. He wanted all of them taken care of, the ones who left and those who chose to stay. Treating his employees well was something he’d been adamant about as owner, and he didn’t want that to end.
When he felt like his eyes would cross if he looked at one more clause, he set the papers aside and stretched out on the sofa. Maybe it was jet lag, maybe it was the lower-quality workouts he’d managed while in the Bronx, but his body felt heavy and sluggish. Likewise, his brain felt dull and distracted, his thoughts pinballing around with no sense of direction.
He’d kept his phone on silent, and when he checked the time, he saw he had a missed call from his parents and a few texts from his sister. He stared at the notifications for a moment, then set the phone down without opening the messages. While he could no longer get away with avoiding his family forever, he couldn’t face them right now. They’d ask about what was happening with the business, or worse, with Michelle. He didn’t want to tell them about selling the gym, and he didn’t know what to tell them about Mich.
If Fabian hadn’t emailed her, they never would have found each other again. Gabe would have continued on with his life, never knowing how good things could be with Michelle.
Never knowing how easily he could fall in love with her again.
All the things he’d once dreamed about, and told himself were simply the musings of a youthful crush, he now had specific memories for. The way she sighed his name. The way her breathing changed when she fell asleep. The way she stress-cleaned and how she preferred her tea. Along with countless other little details he hadn’t known, despite half a lifetime of friendship.
He couldn’t believe he’d gotten her involved in the expansion, only to drop it after she’d put so much work into it. He felt bad about that too. It was embarrassing, and added yet another layer to his feelings of failure.
So many hours, days,yearsof his life had been funneled into the gym. Who was he without it?
He didn’t know the answer yet, and until he figured it out, he wasn’t fit to even think about next steps with Michelle either.
Selling the gym felt like a loss, like a death. Like someone close to him had passed, or like a piece of him was dying. It was going to take time to get used to his life without Agility in it.
Yes, he still had his degree in physical therapy. He had the experience of running his own business. Those couldn’t be taken away from him. Yet the thought of going to work for someone else felt like a step down from where he’d been. He could do it, but it wouldn’t feel as fulfilling.
He picked up one of the many sheets of paper in front of him, then put it back down. He already knew he was going to sell. And while he still had a few more questions and negotiations to work out, right now, he needed a break from it.
Dragging his laptop across the sofa to him, Gabe opened it and hovered the mouse over his email icon, out of habit.
No, he didn’t want to do that either.
Looking around his apartment, there wasn’t a single thing hedidwant to do.
He didn’t want to call his parents or sister back just yet. He didn’t want to talk to Fabian. He didn’t want to get caught up in the endless loop of social media. He didn’t want to watch TV or exercise. What did other people do with free time? He wasn’t used to having it.
Gabe squinted at the titles of the small pile of books stacked on the shelf above his desk. He didn’t keep many physical copies of books on hand—part of his mission to cut back onclutter—and there wasn’t anything he particularly wanted to read. Besides, he suspected if he sat around reading or watching ScreenFlix, he’d feel guilty about wasting time.
But really, when had he last had time to waste? Before going to the Bronx, his only downtime was his workouts, which he did at a friend’s gym because he needed a break from being in his own.
Gabe thought of the hours he and Michelle had spent wandering the Bronx Zoo, of petting Jezebel in the mornings—and petting Michelle at night. The time he’d spent with Michelle, he’d been fully present and in the moment, for once not thinking at all about work.
Aside from when they’d collaborated on the campaign for Agility. And at those points, his brain had gotten squirrelly because what she was showing him about his intention for the gym didn’t match what he had.
He thought about the night they’d spent in the Hudson Valley. It had been one of the most stunning and revelatory of his life. For one night, he’d gotten a taste of everything he could have with Michelle.
And he wanted it. He just didn’t know how to go after it. He hadn’t known how to fit her into his life as it had been, and now that life was falling apart. He had nothing to offer. His sense of self-worth had come from the gym, and without it... he was worthless.
Memories of the king-size bed they’d shared reminded him of the “only one sleeping bag” chapter ofCelestial Destiny, the one Michelle had mentioned when they’d been lying beside each other. Since his laptop was open, Gabe began a search forthe thirteen-year-old files. They had to be somewhere—he wouldn’t have deleted them—but he hadn’t looked for them in years and damned if he could remember what he would have named them.
After a few minutes of frustrated searching, he found them in a folder labeled “G and M Story.” Past Gabe sure hadn’t wanted to make it easy for Future Gabe to find. He copied the folder to his desktop and renamed it “Celestial Destiny,” which was what he should have called it in the first place. Inside, there were saved copies of each chapter, along with copy-pasted messenger chats detailing their brainstorming process for each “episode,” as they’d called them. He’d even saved screenshots of reader comments.
Gabe opened the first chapter and read the heading and disclaimer, which hit him with a wave of nostalgia.
