I see someone walk into the PT room. “Listen, Brady, I have a client now.”
“We’re not finished with this conversation, Ry,” he says, walking backwards and then stopping in my doorway. “We’re not even close.”
Before he walks away, he stands there and stares at me. He studies every curve of my face. He traces my arms with his eyes. And by the time his gaze meets mine again, my heart is pounding. And when he finally turns to leave, I feel … bereft.
“I’ll be right there, Mr. Harold,” I yell from my office.
Then I take a minute to control my racing heart. To calm my shaking hands. To ward off the crazy thoughts that are invading my head.
Chapter Twenty-four
“Can we go straight from here?” Murphy asks, as we finish up our lunch together in the gym café. “I can’t wait for you to see what I have lined up. Thanks for letting me help you find a new place.”
“Are you kidding? I owe you big time for doing it. I’ve been so busy trying out nannies and looking at preschools, not to mention the time I’m spending with my mom, that I haven’t even been able to think about it. You are a life saver. And, yes, we can leave from here. I should be done with my last client at five thirty.”
I pick up my trash and throw it in the garbage can. But before I leave, I can’t help it. I have to ask.
“Murphy, have you talked to Brady? Did he say anything to you?”
She laughs. “I was wondering when you were going to bring that up. And yes, I got an earful last night. He reamed me out for not telling him you and I were friends.”
Guilt consumes me. “I’m so sorry to have put you in that position. I never should have asked you to keep your mouth shut. It was unfair of me.”
“I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think it was the best thing for both of you. But at least now he knows you didn’t change your number because of him.”
“Is that really what he thought? I had no idea he was going to try to call me, especially after six weeks of radio silence.”
“He was going to invite you to my wedding in January.”
“What?”
She smiles and nods. “It’s true. He ran the idea past me, and at the time, you were still in Tampa and we hadn’t become good friends yet. I told him to go for it. But truth be told, I couldn’t believe he was even considering bringing a woman to a wedding. I mean, this was Brady Taylor we were talking about. But that was just the first of many changes I’ve seen in him since he came back last fall.”
Murphy was the second person I called when I decided to move back to New York. My mother was the first. Murphy and I had gotten along well during her visit to Tampa. We kept in touch afterward and she told me if I ever needed anything to call her. Being a single mother with a parent in a memory care facility does not lend itself to friendships and most of the friends I made growing up and in PT school had fallen away.
I stand here looking stunned about the fact that he wanted to take me to Murphy’s wedding.
“Don’t look so surprised, Rylee. The man was completely taken with you. Still is, if his behavior last night tells me anything. I told you, he’s changed.”
I look at my watch and realize I’m late for my one o’clock. “I have to go, Murphy. I’ll see you tonight.”
Walking back to the PT room, I wonder what she means by that. He’s changed. He’s changed how? He’s not an arrogant spendthrift? He’s not bedding everyone in sight? He’s not running away from hospitals?
As I contemplate the possible answers to my questions, I come to a halt when I see none other than Brady Taylor himself sitting on one of my training tables. I look around for Jeannie Nolan, my one o’clock.
“Brady, I have a client. You can’t be here.”
“I know you have a client. I’m it.”
“You are not my client, Brady. Not anymore.” I walk back to my office to check my schedule on the computer and shake my head when I see Brady’s name pop up in this time slot.
“What? How?”
“I ran into Ms. Nolan at the front desk when I was trying to make an appointment with you. She agreed to switch her appointment to a later date.”
“She agreed?” I stare him down.
“Well, after I said I’d pay for it.”
I snort at him. Yeah, still an arrogant spendthrift.
“Brady, you can’t go bribing my clients so you can talk to me.”
“I didn’t do it so I can talk to you. I really do need a physical therapist.”
He holds out his left arm and my eyes find a new pink scar. Not the scar from his broken elbow. My eyes snap to his. “You had the nerve transposition surgery?”
He nods. “Some smarty-pants PT told me it was my best shot.”
“When did you do it?” I ask.
“Right before training camp,” he says. “I felt my progression had halted. I wasn’t getting any better. It was do or die time. And, well … I knew you’d be there to help in my recovery. Or so I thought.”
“So why come here now? You have team PTs you can work with.”
“I’m allowed to work with any PT I choose, even those outside of the organization. I know you. You will push me harder than anyone.”
“But you’ll travel with the team, won’t you?”
“Yes, whenever I can. But I’ll work with you when I’m home. You’re going to get me back, Rylee, I know it.”
I know he means get him back in the game, but I think of how else that statement could be interpreted.
“How long have you worked at the gym?” he asks, oblivious to how his double entendre has affected me.
“A little over two weeks.”
“But you quit your job more than six weeks ago. Did you leave before spring training because of Alex or because of me?”
I shrug. “To be honest, a little of both. I needed some time off after … everything. I was beginning to fear for my safety being in Tampa. Alex knew where I lived. And I had been away from my mom for too long. And yes, there was the thought of having to see you.”
“How is your mom?” he asks. “I know dealing with Alzheimer’s can be difficult.”
I furrow my brow. I’m positive I never spoke of her.
“I walked in on you one time when you were Skyping your mom. I didn’t want to say anything because we weren’t talking about personal stuff.”
“But we are now?”
He looks to the floor. “Depends on what stuff, I guess.”
“Meaning we can talk about my stuff, but not yours.”
I start to walk away but he pulls my arm, tugging me back to him. “Meaning we can talk about lots of stuff, but not all the stuff. Some things I just don’t talk about, Ry.”
I look at the clock. “If we don’t get started, you’ll have wasted a lot of money for nothing. Let’s do your evaluation.”
He watches me meticulously as I measure his wrist flexion and extension and his grip. He silently follows my direction when I put his arm, wrist and fingers through their paces. I’m reeling on the inside, knowing he’s already stronger than he was last fall. If anyone can overcome this, he can.
“You’ve done a lot of work today. I’d like to ice your arm before you leave.”
“What, no manual therapy?” He winks at me.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
I can sense that he’s getting ready to argue, but then he backs down.
“Fine, ice me up. We’ll work up to the other stuff.”
I type my notes into my laptop while he sits with ice on his arm.
“I tried to get you a transfer, you know. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it happen.”
“You did?” I look up, surprised.
“That day when I saw you Skyping your mom, I called the team owner and put in a good word for you.”
“So that’s why I got the job offer.”
He looks confused. “You got an offer to come back to New York and didn’t take it?”
“They offered me
a staff PT position, but it would require traveling with the team during the season. I couldn’t do it. Not with Stryker. But thank you for trying.”
“How is he – your son?”
I can’t help smiling. “He’s great. He recovered quickly and is just like any other precocious three-year-old.”
Brady’s eyes close and he winces.
I touch his arm. “Are you in pain? Is the ice too cold?”
“It’s fine,” he says.
My next appointment comes in the room. “I’ll be right with you, Kathy.”
“Can we talk some more?” Brady asks. “After work maybe?”
“Sorry. Murphy’s taking me apartment hunting.”
“You don’t have a place yet? Where have you been staying all this time?”
“In a hotel. I know, it’s awful, Stryker and I sharing a room. I put all my stuff in storage. But I’ve been so busy, I haven’t had a chance. Murphy has been great. She’s lined up all the places for me to see.”
“Yeah, she’s pretty great, isn’t she? I’m glad you two have become friends.”
He studies me as I unwrap his ice pack.
“I guess I’ll see you next time,” I say.
“Ry.” He looks over at my next client to see that she’s keeping herself busy with her phone. “I’m sorry for how I left. I had my reasons. Reasons that had nothing to do with you. I just wanted you to know that.”
I shake my head. “You don’t owe me any explanations,” I say. “I knew what we were doing was a short-term thing. If I allowed myself to think anything else, it was my own fault.”
He steps closer. “Are you saying you wanted it to be something else?”
I look up at him but don’t answer.
He sighs and brushes a stray hair behind my ear. “It’s okay, Rylee. I wanted it to be something else, too.”
He walks away, leaving me incapable of … anything.
I hold a finger out to Kathy, letting her know I’ll be just another minute. Then I go into my office, close my door and just breathe.
Chapter Twenty-five
I walk out to the front desk to meet Murphy. “Ready?” I ask.
She pulls a folder out of her bag. “I’m ready. We’re seeing three places today.”
“Want to grab a sandwich from that deli on the corner first?” I ask.
“Ugh – sandwiches? What is it with you and sandwiches?” a deep male voice asks.
Murphy and I spin around to see that Brady has snuck up behind us. “What are you doing here?” I ask.
“If you think I’m going to let the two of you go apartment hunting without protection, you’re crazy.”
“I’m not taking her to the slums,” Murphy says defensively.
“Still, are you sure you know what buildings are safe? I mean, you’re from Iowa, Murphy, and Rylee grew up outside the city.”
“We know enough,” I say. “Plus, I told her I wouldn’t live in one without security.”
“They all have doormen and twenty-four-hour security,” Murphy says. “So you can see we’re far ahead of you.”
“I’m coming anyway,” he says, walking to the front door to open it for us.
I stare at him and wonder why he’s doing this. He walked away. Four months ago he walked away from me at the hospital and never looked back. Why is he interested in being around me now? Does he think he has to protect me from guys like Alex? Or does this have anything to do with what he said earlier?
“Want me to get rid of him?” Murphy asks in a whisper.
I shake my head. “No, it’s fine.”
“Maybe he can intimidate the managers into giving you a better deal,” she says.
I laugh. “I wouldn’t doubt it.”
Murphy and I talk on the way to the deli with Brady walking behind us. After we order our dinner, he asks, “So, the sandwiches?”
I shrug. “Stryker likes them, so they are pretty much a staple in my house. I’ve had to get creative to make sure he’s getting enough nutrition, but it’s fun. I make a mean chicken salad avocado hoagie.”
Brady looks like he swallowed a bug. He must not like avocado. Or chicken salad.
“Uh, where is the little tyke?” he asks, running a hand nervously through his hair.
Murphy gives him a sympathetic look.
“I asked my sitter to stay late today. Believe me, you would not want him tagging along. We’d get nothing done but chasing him around the apartment buildings.”
“Oh, okay.”
I don’t miss the relief that pours out of him and I wonder if that’s the whole issue. Maybe my having a child is a deal breaker. The certified bachelor of baseball doesn’t want a girlfriend with a kid. I guess I can’t blame him. I mean, even if he has changed like Murphy said, it’s still a lot to take on. Not that I want him to take anything on. I might have at one point. But I’m over that. I’m over him.
Aren’t I?
As Murphy and Brady talk about scheduling another photo shoot for the gym, I appraise him and wonder what it would be like to be with him. I can’t even imagine it. He has a girl in every city. Every city. How would one reconcile that? Even if he did want to be with me, I’m not sure I could do it knowing there are twenty-something other girls out there who had sex with him on a regular basis? That’s just gross. And wrong.
And entirely hypocritical of me to think considering I was one of those girls.
I let my forehead fall to the table.
“What is it?” Murphy asks.
“Nothing. Don’t mind me. I’m just tired, I guess.”
“Well then, let’s finish up and find you a new place. We won’t keep you any longer than necessary. I’m sure you want to get home to that gorgeous kid.”
Brady looks at Murphy. “You’ve met him?”
“I have. He’s absolutely precious.” She puts her hand on Brady’s arm in a motherly manner. Then she balls up her wrapper and stands up. “Come on, let’s go.”
The first apartment we see is awful. Even in a secure building, it doesn’t look safe. No way is the fire escape up to code. Brady threatens to call a building inspector if I even think twice about signing a lease.
The second one turns out to be in a not-so-desirable school district. But it’s not Murphy’s fault. I didn’t make that a requirement.
The third one, where we are now, is perfect. In fact, it’s better than perfect. It has everything I asked for and more. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a designer kitchen, even an office that I can make into a playroom. And it has a balcony, something I never thought I’d be able to get in my price range.
“How did you even find this, Murphy? It’s a gem. What’s the catch?”
“It is pretty sweet,” Brady says, taking another look at the balcony. “There must be something wrong with it.” He turns to the manager. “Did someone die here or something? Is it haunted?” he jokes. “Why is it so cheap?”
“Really?” the manager asks. “I was thinking it was going for a bit too much.” He looks at his paperwork and quotes us the rent.
My eyes bug out. Even at my generous salary, it’s three times what I can afford.
“What are you talking about?” Murphy asks the guy. “I called your assistant earlier this week and she said it was a third that price. Are you bait-and-switching me?”
The manager flushes. “Wait – you’re the one who talked to Trisha?” He rummages through his folder. “Oh, my. I’m very sorry. I was supposed to show you 3B not 16F.”
My heart sinks as I glance around once more. “Is 3B anything like this one?”
He shrugs. “If you call a smaller apartment without top-of-the-line appliances and a balcony ‘like this one,’ then—yes.”
“Let’s just leave,” Murphy says. “This is ridiculous.” She eyes the manager as if she thinks he did this deliberately.
“No. Let’s see it. I really like the building. It’s the perfect location for me. It’s close to work, it’s in a great school district, and Stryker will love
the indoor playground we saw downstairs.”
“You might as well give it a look as long as we’re here. What do you have to lose?” Brady says.
We take the elevator down to the third floor as I mourn the place I was already envisioning Stryker growing up in.
I’m apprehensive as we enter apartment 3B. I know anything I see will be a letdown after the one on the sixteenth floor. We tour the apartment in silence, looking at the two modest-sized bedrooms, the one bathroom, and the nothing-special kitchen.
“Look over here,” the manager says. “There is this alcove off the dining area. Maybe you could make this into a play area for your child. And I can check my records, this unit might be on the list for upgraded appliances. Did you see the bathroom? I know there is only one, but it’s rather large and has both a tub and a shower – that’s hard to find in this price range.”
The manager looks genuinely sorry to have shown me the wrong apartment.
“Do you like it?” Brady asks, pulling me aside.
“I guess.” I look around again. “I mean, if I hadn’t seen the other one, I’d probably be excited about it. He’s right about that alcove – it’s more space than I thought I’d get.”
Brady walks over to the manager and points to his folder. “Why don’t you go check your records and see about those appliances? Then maybe look to make sure you were exactly right on the rent. Ms. Kennedy would be the perfect tenant. You want her here. Keep that in mind before you come back and tell us your final offer.”
“Final offer?” he says. “This is an apartment, not a negotiation to buy a car.”
Brady stares the guy down. “Everything is a negotiation.” He puts his arm around the manager and walks him out of the apartment. “Do you like baseball?” I hear him say before the door shuts.
Murphy laughs. “I told you he might be good to have around.”
We take one more long look at the place, and this time, I try to picture us here. I picture Stryker sitting at the bar watching me cook pancakes. I picture snuggling him in my bed on lazy Saturday mornings. I picture bringing Mom here for Sunday dinners.
“I think I like it,” I tell Murphy. “In fact, I think I love it.”
The Perfect Game: A Complete Sports Romance Series (3-Book Box Set) Page 45
