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What she doesn’t know is that those words hit me like bullets to my chest, blazing through me, breaking bones, burning a hole in my heart, piercing my lungs, and making it hard to breathe.
She blows out slowly but heavily, as if through pursed lips. ‘You always could read people, couldn’t you?’
Nostalgia Lane? Really? That’s not my address.
Suddenly uncomfortable in my seat, I stand and move to the window, looking out over the city. ‘I’ll talk to her. Just try to include her. Maybe set up a girls’ day. I’m sure she could use a woman to talk to. You set something up and I’ll pay for Cady. Don’t push her out, okay? Don’t make her feel like she isn’t welcome in your home.’
‘You know she is. Of course she is.’
‘I know that. Just make suresheknows it.’
‘Okay. Thanks, Brooks. It’s good to talk to you about her. You know, when I try to talk to Richard, he—’
Richard. We’re going to talk about the latest husband?
‘I’ve got to go, Alice. If you need me for anything to do with Cady, you know how to find me. Anything at all.’
‘Oh, yeah, course.’
‘Bye, Alice.’
‘Goodbye, Brooks.’
I end the call and lean into the sides of my fists, pressing them against the cool glass of the window. I fill my lungs with one steady, calming breath, reminding myself that she’s notmyAlice. She’s not the Alice I was in love with eighteen years ago. And I will never have her again.
My melancholy is replaced when I see the bright Lycra of the British diva, heading back toward the gym. So, she did go for a run. Her hair swishes as she runs. Her arms move parallel to each other, drawing perfectly straight rotations. Her style is good, efficient. Her thighs look strong. Her stride is set at a solid pace. She moves effortlessly, but I know she’s working her body hard.
When she stops outside the gym, she presses the phone holder that’s strapped around her bicep, presumably to turn off or change her music, then she starts to stretch. Her top rides up as she takes her arms above her head and leans to one side, stretching the sides of her torso from the hip. Her stomach is perfectly flat. Her skin inviting.
It is such a shame she’s an obnoxious—
‘Brooks, I’m done for the day. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
I spin quickly and feel as guilty as I must look. I feel as if I’ve been caught red-handed with contraband.
‘Thanks, Charlie. Have a good one.’
When I turn back to the window, Miss Attitude has vanished from the sidewalk.
I check my watch and get a little buzz when I see it is second lunchtime. See, I train folks who work office jobs over actual lunchtime, so I eat two smaller helpings before and after then. Meh, small for me. I guess you could call it a little Brooks quirk – I’m always hungry.
The bistro is still busy. Adding the café to the premises was one of the best business decisions I’ve made. People fill the seats all day, whether it’s breakfast, brunch, snacks, coffee, smoothies, dinner. There’s a cheerful vibe about the place – people high on endorphins putting the world to right.
Dipping my head to the familiar faces around the bistro, I move toward the smoothie bar. Before I get to the counter, my ears find the English girl, then my focus lands on, well, her ass, then the rest of her. She’s leaning on the counter with both palms, standing on her tiptoes for no apparent reason, as if she’s walking on eggshells.
‘Oh, no, those combinations don’t really do much for me. Let’s make it easy. I’ll take the green roots smoothie but leave out the shot of that Xcell protein. I don’t rate that stuff at all. Could you also switch out the cucumber and add kale? Do you have asparagus? That would be great in there. You know, I could leave you one of these…’
I watch, one brow raised, my teeth digging hard into my cheek, as she takes one of her books – the one from the TV commercial – from her sports bag and holds it out to Angie.
‘This is my new book. It has great recipes. I think they would do really well here.’
I try to keep my cool, since that’s what people expect from me – hell, it’s what I expect from me – but my words are sharp. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’
Izzy jumps and spins quickly, leaning back when she realizes how close my face is to hers. ‘I was just—’
‘You were just shitting all over the recipes I put together. You were just bad-mouthing one of my sponsors, when I’ll bet you’ve never even tried their products.’
‘I—’
