Page 94 of Playing to Win

Chapter 32

brooks

“What do you think?” Drew asks.

I lean back against the window ledge and take another look around the second floor of the old building, just off Wall Street. It’s the perfect location for the new gym. And the space is enormous. But the renovations were abandoned by the previous tenant, and it’s hard visualizing a gym around polystyrene drapes and scaffolding.

A lady called Gloria is showing Drew and me around. She’s a Realtor his firm regularly works with. “You need to think outside the box, Brooks. The space always looks smaller when it’s empty. Try to imagine yourself working out in here.”

“I think the ceilings are tall enough to have office space on a mezzanine level, like you do in your current place,” Drew adds, walking around in jeans, boots, and a hard hat that’s a match for mine, only his is red and mine is blue.

As I try to “think outside the box,” I receive a text message. The name on the screen is the last one I expected to see and the only one I’ve been hoping for.

I smile at a picture of Izzy in her sports gear, sitting on a bench, eating chocolate, and admitting that my interval training has got her fitness up.

God, it’s only one text message and I feel like I can breathe again.

I reply:

IT’S NOT JUST MY CARDIO TRAINING. THE SQUATS AND LUNGES HAVE GIVEN YOU MORE POWER IN YOUR QUADS TOO.

She replies in an instant and I actually laugh out loud when I read:

SMART ARSE!

With more energy than moments ago, I walk into the middle of the floor and turn on the spot. I see Izzy running on a treadmill with a view out to the Hudson. I see her pummeling a punch bag, her music playing in her ears, or maybe humming her own songs as she winds down in the stretch-out area.

“I’m in,” I say.

Drew throws an arm around my shoulder. “Let’s make this happen, buddy.”

On the sidewalk, after exchanging details and agreeing on a time to talk through next steps, I have a thought. “Gloria, do you also deal with residential apartments? I’m in the market for a new two bedroom. My only stipulation is a view.”

* * * *

Stopping the car in the usual spot I would pick up Cady—on the edge of the cul-de-sac—I give myself a pep talk. This is Alice. Just Alice. Sweet, beautiful Alice. She can’t hurt you anymore. You have to do this for Cady.

Putting the car in gear, I drive into the cul-de-sac, following Cady’s instructions. In front of a large detached house, I see the black Range Rover Cady told me would be in the driveway.

Come on, dude, keep your shit together.

Cady is already out of the house when I shut the door of the truck behind me. As she walks into my arms, I see Alice over her shoulder, standing in the doorway. She’s older. She doesn’t look exactly like my Alice. Her hair is a darker shade of blond. There are a few different colors, not one light shade, not like Alice in Wonderland. And her hair is short, just below her chin. But her big blue eyes are just the same. And she’s glowing, like she did when she was pregnant with Cady.

“She won’t bite,” Cady whispers into my ear.

For the first time, as I meet the stare of my Alice, I know she won’t bite. I also know she is no longer mine. The strange thing is, it doesn’t upset me, or anger me. The relief I feel carries me to the door.

Cady steps inside ahead of me and disappears down a long corridor, leaving just the two of us. Up close, Alice’s eyes are different. There are fine lines at the corners. Her once pale, clear skin has makeup partially covering freckles.

Her lips curve into a smile. That I recognize. The way her skin folds at the corners of her mouth. She’s the same Alice and yet so different.

“Hi, Brooks.”

“Hi, Alice.”

It’s hard to say which of us makes the first move. We end up locked in an embrace, squeezing each other hard. Holding the past and letting it go at the same time.

“Can we eat? I’m starving!” Cady shouts from somewhere, presumably the kitchen.

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