Page 98 of Playing to Win

“Fuck, Drew.”

“Shit, sorry, buddy. You should have had your hands up.” He stops talking when he follows my gaze to Izzy. “I’m still claiming that as a KO,” he says, as I stand and walk to the edge of the ring.

Izzy swallows hard as she stares at me, looking immaculate in yoga pants and a sweat top that drapes off one shoulder. Her blond hair is pulled back into her signature ponytail and she has the smallest amount of makeup around her eyes. My body is suddenly heavy with emotion and the urge to take her in my arms.

“Is this the one who’s causing you trouble, Charlie?” I ask.

“Yes, boss.”

I don’t take my eyes off Izzy, and I see my growing smile reflected on her soft pink lips. Of all the things I have wanted to say to her, the only one that comes to me now is, “Hi.”

She steps up to the ring. Kit lifts the ropes for her to climb through. She comes up to me with her hand held out for me to shake. “Hi, I’m Izzy. Hot mess but working on my shit.”

I pull off a glove and take her hand, glancing down to make sure it is real, that I’m not imagining she is here.

“I’m new to New York. I don’t really have a job. I sold a book once for a small advance and my sales are on a steady decline, but they’re enough for me to afford a tiny studio apartment in the city. It has a terrible view of another block of apartments. But, it’s mine and I pay for it myself. I’m a singer-songwriter and I intend to do open-mic nights but I don’t actually make any money from it. I’m currently living off money I got from selling my designer clothes online. Tomorrow, I have a dance audition for a small musical. Even if I get it—and there’s a good chance I won’t—it’s for a standby role.” She smiles fully now. The kind I love. The kind that lights up her irises. “But it’s what I really want to do, for me.”

I absorb everything she said, still holding her hand in mine. I tell her, “I’m Brooks. I’m a gym owner. My body is covered in tattoos. I’m the father of a young adult, who sometimes acts older than I do. I get along with her mother but I don’t wish we had never split. I like meat, especially meat coated in sauce—the more sugar and fat the better. I like beer, football, and playing the guitar. I have a swanky new apartment with a killer view. Maybe I could show you sometime, when you get fed up with living in a box.”

She laughs, looking down at her feet like she’s nervous. I take a step closer to her and finally let go of her hand so I can lift her chin and look at her beautiful face. “Why are you here?”

Her expression changes from happy to serious. “Because I spent four weeks in London and realized I need, and want, a life overhaul. It’s not complete yet. I don’t have all the answers. But the one thing I am absolutely certain of is that arguing, laughing, and making love with you is the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. I love you, Brooks. I love everything about you. From the fact you hate wearing suits and eat too much meat to the fact you send shivers through me when you sing and play the guitar. You’re the only person in the world who would call your friends to have them buy my books, even though you didn’t really like me, just so I wouldn’t feel bad. I love that—”

I crash my lips against hers and scoop her up, wrapping her legs around my waist. “You talk too much, Izzy Coulthard. But I fucking love you. I love every annoying-as-hell bone in your body.”

She laughs as she kisses me again. When cheers and wolf whistles start up around us, she buries her head in my neck and wraps her arms around me.

“I’m never letting you go, Izzy. You’re mine.”

She kisses my neck. “I only want to be yours, Brooks. Forever.”

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