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‘Brooks, these are four-kilogram dumbbells. I can lift more than this. I’m not a five-year-old.’
‘Could have fooled me,’ I mumble.
‘What was that?’
‘Nothing. I’m starting you off light. I don’t know how strong you are yet. But we aren’t going to lift heavy weight. You don’t want to bulk up; you want to be strong and toned but still feminine. To do that, you need to do more reps of lighter weight. So, quit moaning and get to it. You had me dancing around like a fool for an hour; you can listen to me now.’
‘It’s not dancing like a fool, it’s—’
‘Goddamn it, Izzy, just give me a break. You’re exhausting.’
She scowls but starts her first set of bicep curls.
‘Roll your shoulders down and back. That’s it. Can you feel the difference?’
As well as rolling her shoulders, she rolls her eyes. ‘I know how to do bicep curls.’
‘If you knew how, you could have started correctly in the first place and saved me having to tell you.’
Something that sounds very much like ‘bugger off’ leaves her mouth. I’m beginning to think of it as a term of endearment.
Once we’re done with weights, I set her off running sprint intervals on the treadmill. By the time I’m done, she’s slumped on the end of the tread belt, her head between her legs.
‘Are you all right? Izzy?’
‘Yes. I’m good.’
‘If I push you too hard, you have to tell me.’
‘I said I’m fine,’ she snaps.
I hold up my hands. ‘Let’s stretch, then. Do you need my help?’
She shakes her head and rises to her feet. I leave her to stretch but keep an eye on her. I know I pushed her hard but right until the last, she seemed to be able to take it.
When she’s done, I leave her wiping down her face and topping off her water bottle, and I make my way up to my office. I’m starving and the worst part is that I have vegetables and more vegetables to look forward to for dinner.
I flick on the light as I step into my office and do a double take. My desk has been moved to one side of the room, flush up against the wall. A new, second desk, with that goddamn pink laptop and a new box of pink tissues, takes up the other half of the office space.
‘Izzy!’ I shout, moving out to the balcony. She’s not tired any more; she’s laughing hysterically, bent over her knees. ‘You think this is funny?’
She holds up a hand as she tries to speak. ‘I ca… I can’t… I can’t even…’
‘It’s not staying.’
Everyone in the gym has turned to look from me to Izzy; even those wearing headphones are taking them out.
‘I need somewhere to work, Brooks.’
‘Where did it come from?’
‘I bought it online and had it delivered.’
‘Well, have them collect it again because it is not staying.’
I storm into my office and pace the floor until she comes upstairs. ‘What a stupid waste of money,’ I snap.
She’s not laughing any more. ‘It’s not a waste. I’ll use it while I’m here. Plus, it’s my money to do what I like with.’
