Chapter Twenty-Eight
DUFFEL BAG AND ROSé
Tori
Winnie shows up at my door with a duffel bag, a bottle of wine, and mascara streaks down her cheeks.
“I grabbed what I could while he was at the gym,” she says by way of greeting. “I’ll have to go back for the rest of my stuff later, when he’s not there.”
“Get in here.” I pull her into a hug, and she sags against me for a long moment before straightening up and wiping her face with the back of her hand.
“Sorry. I’m a mess.”
“You’re allowed to be a mess.” I take the wine and usher her inside. “That’s what tonight is for.”
My apartment looks even smaller with two people in it, but we make it work. Winnie drops her duffel by the couch while I grab glasses and a corkscrew. By the time I’m pouring, she’s already kicked off her shoes and curled up in the corner of my couch, knees pulled to her chest.
“Okay.” I hand her a very full glass. “Tell me everything.”
She takes a long sip. Then another.
“I ended it,” she says finally. “Yesterday. After he told me I was being ‘too emotional’ about the fact that he made plans on my birthday.”
“What do you mean, made plans?”
“My birthday’s in two weeks. I mentioned maybe doing dinner, something nice for once, and he said he couldn’t because his fantasy football league is doing their draft that night.
” She laughs, but there’s no humor in it.
“When I got upset, he said I was overreacting. That I could just celebrate on a different day. Like my birthday is flexible.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“And the thing is—” She takes a long sip of wine.
“Maybe it would have been fine if he’d sat me down and said, ‘Hey, my friends planned this thing on your birthday. Obviously, my priority is celebrating you, so I can skip it. But if you’re okay with it, we could do your birthday another night.
Whatever you want.’ That’s a conversation. That’s considering my feelings.”
“But that’s not what he did.”
“No. He just informed me he had plans and that I needed to deal with it. And when I didn’t deal with it the way he wanted, suddenly I’m the problem.
” She shakes her head. “That’s when I realized—I’ve been overreacting to everything for two years, according to him.
My feelings are always too big, my needs are always too much, and I’m always the one who has to apologize for wanting basic human consideration. ”
“Win...”
“So I told him I was done. And he said—” She pauses, jaw tightening. “He said ‘fine, but you’re the one who has to find somewhere else to live, because I’m not leaving my apartment.’”
“His apartment? You’ve been paying half the rent!”
“I know. But his name’s on the lease, and apparently that’s all that matters.” She drains half her glass. “So now I’m homeless, single, and drinking wine on my best friend’s couch. Really living the dream, here.”
I scoot closer and wrap an arm around her shoulders. “You’re not homeless. You’re staying here as long as you need.”
“Tori, your apartment is literally one room.”
“A very cozy room.” I squeeze her. “Besides, I like having you here. It’ll be like college, except with better wine and fewer questionable life choices.”
She snort-laughs, which is exactly what I was going for. “I don’t know about fewer questionable life choices. I did just blow up my entire life.”
“You didn’t blow it up. You escaped.” I pull back and look at her seriously. “Win, I’ve been watching you shrink yourself for two years. Every time we hang out, you’re a little quieter, a little more careful about what you say. Like you’re always bracing for him to criticize you.”
Her eyes fill with tears. “Was it that obvious?”
“Only to people who love you.”
She sets down her wine and drops her head into her hands.
“I kept telling myself it would get better. That he was just stressed, or that I was being too sensitive, or that every relationship has rough patches.” She looks up at me.
“But it wasn’t a rough patch. It was just..
. how he is. And I finally realized I can’t fix that. ”
“You can’t. And you shouldn’t have to.”
“I know.” She wipes her eyes and takes a shaky breath. “The worst part is, I don’t even feel that sad. I feel... relieved? Is that terrible?”
“That’s not terrible. That’s your gut telling you that you made the right call.”
She’s quiet for a moment, processing. Then she reaches for her wine again, and I notice something I didn’t see before. Her shoulders are looser. Her jaw isn’t clenched. Even with mascara smeared under her eyes and her life in chaos, she looks lighter than she has in months.
“What are you going to do now?” I ask.
“I don’t know. Figure out the living situation first, I guess. I’ll eventually need to find an apartment of my own.” She makes a face. “And then there’s work.”
“What about work?”
Winnie sighs. “Derek and I both teach at the same gym. Or, we did. After yesterday, things are... tense.”
“How tense?”
“It’s a small place, Tori. Like, twelve employees small. Everyone knows everyone’s business.” She picks at the edge of her blanket. “We were the cute couple who met at work. Now we’re the messy breakup everyone has to tiptoe around.”
“That sounds awful.”
I sip my wine, already thinking. The staff meeting this week—Dana mentioned they’ve been talking about bringing in a yoga instructor for the team. Flexibility training, injury prevention, mental wellness. The guys have been resistant to it, but management is pushing hard.
“Win,” I say slowly. “How would you feel about teaching somewhere else?”
“Like where? Another gym?”
“Like... the Knights facility.”
She stares at me. “What?”
“The team’s been talking about hiring a yoga instructor. For the players. It came up in a staff meeting this week.” I grab my phone. “I could talk to Dana. Put in a good word. Send her your resume.”
“Tori.” Her eyes go wide. “Are you serious?”
“Dead serious.”
“That would be—I mean, that’s a professional sports team. That’s a completely different level.” She sets down her wine glass. “You really think they’d consider me?”
“I think you’re exactly what they need. You’re good, Win. Really good. And these guys desperately need someone to work on their flexibility. Half of them can barely touch their toes.”
“Oh my God.” She presses her hands to her cheeks. “That would be amazing. Like, life-changing amazing. No more tiny gym, no more Derek poisoning everyone against me, no more—” She stops, looking at me with something like hope for the first time all night. “You’d really do that for me?”
“I’m already drafting the email in my head.” I grin. “Send me your resume tonight. I’ll get it to Dana first thing tomorrow.”
“You’re the best. You know that, right? Literally the best friend anyone has ever had.”
Winnie takes a long sip, then narrows her eyes at me over the rim. “Okay, enough about my disaster. What’s going on with you? I feel like I’ve barely seen you in weeks, and you’ve got that look.”
“What look?”
“The look of someone who has news and is waiting for me to ask.”
I laugh, but she’s not wrong. “Things have been... eventful.”
“Eventful how?”
“Well... the team found out about me and Zayden.”
Winnie’s eyes go wide. “Oh shit. What happened?”
“Grayson Reed—the guy who wouldn’t leave me alone—saw us at the hotel in Minneapolis and spread it around the whole facility.” I take a long drink of my own wine. “My boss, Dana, called me in. It was... not fun.”
“Did you get fired?”
“No. But I got reassigned.” I pick at the label on the wine bottle, not quite meeting her eyes. “I’m off the active roster, only working with guys rehabbing long-term injuries and prospects now. No more road trips.”
“So, like... a demotion?”
“They’re calling it ‘reduced capacity until things settle down.’” I shrug. “Same pay, same hours. Just less visible. Less important.”
“Tori.” Winnie reaches over and squeezes my hand. “That sucks. I’m sorry.”
“It could have been worse. Zayden went to Dana before I could—like, showed up at her office at the crack of dawn to take responsibility. He told her about Reed harassing me, defended me, and offered to take whatever consequences they wanted to throw at him.” I smile despite myself.
“He went to bat for me. No one’s ever done that before. ”
“Okay, that’s annoyingly romantic.”
“I know.” I roll my eyes.
“So you two are...?”
“Officially? Keeping things ‘discreet.’” I make air quotes. “But we’re going on a date tomorrow night. A real one. Reservations and everything.”
“Your first real date?”
“We’ve done everything completely backwards. I’ve met his daughter, almost slept with him in a hotel, and nearly lost my job over him—but we’ve never actually been on a date.”
Winnie laughs. “That’s the most chaotic relationship timeline I’ve ever heard. I love it.”
“It’s been a lot.” I lean back against the couch cushions. “But it’s good. He’s good. Even with all the mess, I don’t regret it.”
“You shouldn’t.” She clinks her glass against mine. “To messy, chaotic love. And to both of us figuring our shit out.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
We polish off the rest of the bottle, and later, I help her set up the couch with sheets and pillows. It’s not glamorous—my couch is about six inches too short for a full-grown adult to sleep comfortably—but Winnie doesn’t complain. She just wraps herself in the blanket and sighs.
“Thank you,” she says quietly. “For all of this. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Probably sleep on Megan’s couch and get peed on by a cat.”
“Probably.” She smiles. “Goodnight, Tori.”
“Goodnight, Win.”
I turn off the lights and head to my bed—which is really just a slightly elevated section of the same room, separated by a bookshelf that serves as a makeshift wall. The joys of studio apartment living.
But as I lie there in the dark, listening to Winnie’s breathing even out, I’m not thinking about the cramped quarters or the chaos of the last few days.
I’m thinking about tomorrow night.
My date with Zayden, him taking me somewhere with candles and wine and food that doesn’t come with a number.
I’ve never been the girl who gets giddy about dates. After all the horrible first dates I’ve been on, I’ve trained myself not to. Expectations lead to disappointment, and disappointment leads to heartbreak, and I’d had enough of that to last a lifetime.
But this feels different. Zayden feels different.
I fall asleep smiling, and for the first time in a long time, I don’t dream about everything that could go wrong.
I dream about everything that could go right.