Page 69 of Playing to Win

Chapter 22

izzy

Day 9.

“There’s food in the fridge and money in the pot…. Love you too, baby.”

So, the woman I took a picture of in his arms last night stayed over and he’s in love with her.

Devious. Sly. Lying bloody bastard.

I quietly close my apartment door as Brooks heads down the corridor. I back up, as if the door might reveal a lethal weapon and come after me. I stop when I back into the kitchen counter. Other than anger, I don’t know what I feel, but my eyes cloud with unfallen tears, and the pain that strikes my stomach is so fierce it makes me fold forward.

I slide my back down and come to sit on the cold tiled floor, wondering how I didn’t see this coming. Of course he has someone else. We never go to his apartment. He doesn’t talk about himself beyond the kind of movies and music he likes. He gave me a full lesson in the difference between American football and rugby but when I ask about his tattoos, he clams up.

He’s thirty-five and looks impossibly good. I mean, come on, Izzy. I feel ridiculous. Like, once again, I’m on the outside of a circle, only it’s not skinny girls and ladies who lunch in the middle, it’s a guy I have possibly fallen in love with.

How can I be in love with him? I don’t even know him.

How could I have been so bloody naïve to think that a few days of sex and laughter are the basis of anything real?

My head is awash with tears and fury. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know because I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about Brooks. He makes me question who I really am and what I want. No one has ever made me question that; they’ve only directed me to be something different. Brooks likes me the way— No, he doesn’t like me for who I am. He doesn’t give a shit about my happiness. He wanted a fuck.

Well, screw him. Screw this whole damn experience. He can fuck off if he thinks I’m just going to swan into the gym today and act like he didn’t leave me in stockings and suspenders in a candlelit living room while he fucked the person he’s really in a relationship with two doors down.

Tears roll down my cheeks and I have no idea what I’m crying over. My own embarrassment, or that I lost something I never really had.

Angry, I swipe away the wetness from my cheeks. As I stand, my mobile rings. My sister’s name illuminates the screen. A familiar voice.

“Anna.”

“How’s it going over there, author extraordinaire?”

The sound of someone who loves me brings back my tears. “It’s okay. I’m ready to come home.”

“Are you crying?”

I take a deep breath and pinch the bridge of my nose. “No, I was cutting an onion.”

“Isn’t it morning in NYC? Izzy, you never cry. What’s wrong?”

“Oh, you know, fell for the guy I’m supposed to be in competition with. Slept with him and found out he has a…someone.”

“Bastard. He’s married?”

“I don’t know about married but there’s someone else, for sure.”

“Dirty bloody wanker. But he’s not worth tears, surely? You’ve only been there a few days. I mean, you helped him cheat on someone. It’s not the end of the world. Maybe Mummy is right about his type.”

“Excuse me?”

“You know, tattoos, no brain. He’s hardly husband material, is he?”

“You’re unbelievable, Anna. The last thing I would expect from you is I told you so. I’m going.”

“Wait, Iz, I’m sorry. I’m just trying to make you feel better, that’s all. You had a fling with a bad boy; don’t let it get you down.”

“Too late.”

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