I shrug. “Looks like. I mean, it runs out in a couple of years, though.”
“Well, that’s stupid.” Her eyes shine with sympathy and support. “Screw them. You should go for it—you know, better to ask forgiveness than permission. You’d be great at running your own place. I’d sign up in a heartbeat.”
“You would?” I ask, trying to mask the sudden excitement in my voice.
She nods, her emerald eyes sincere. “Absolutely. Your approach to training is ... different. It’s more personal, more empowering. You know?”
I sit back, mulling over her words. The idea of her being one of my first clients in a new venture sends an unexpected thrill through me—even if the non-compete clause looms over me like a dark cloud.
I need to find a way around it.
“You’re right. I’ll figure something out,” I say, more to myself than to her. “I can’t let a piece of paper stop me from doing what I love. Right?”
“That’s the spirit,” she says, beaming back at me. “When you do start your own thing, let me know. I’ll race right over. Okay, well, maybe not race, because chance are I’ll still be in pain from Jillian’s workouts, but you know what I mean.”
The promise in her words fuels a new determination within me. I need to make this happen, not just for me, but for potential clients like Carlie who want what I have to offer.
The conversation continues, and I find myself not wanting it to end. There’s a comfort in her presence, and a sense of ease I haven’t felt in a long time. Maybe ever.
However, as our coffee date draws to a close, I take a deep breath, mustering the courage to ask, “Carlie, would you ... I mean, can we do this again? Maybe grab dinner next time?”
She smiles, the corners of her eyes crinkling in a way that tugs at my heart. “I’d like that, Adam. Dinner sounds great.”
“How does tomorrow night sound?” I ask, wanting to pin her down before she leaves.
She nods. “Sounds perfect.”
As she stands to leave, there’s a moment’s hesitation—a subtle bracing herself before she moves. Carlie’s gait, usually fluid, albeit a bit off-center, carries a hint of carefulness as she takes slow, backward steps toward the door.
Her gaze holds mine, brimming with unspoken words. A tender hope, fragile yet resilient, blossoms in the space between us as she makes her way to the door and waves as she exits.
Dylan comes over, dropping into the seat Carlie just vacated. “So, how’d it go, Casanova?”
I grin, feeling more hopeful than I have in a long time. “Better than I could’ve imagined. She’s amazing, Dylan.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “I told you, man. Just two people having coffee.”
I stand up, feeling like a weight’s been lifted off my shoulders. “Yeah, just two people having coffee.”
But I think it might be the start of something more.
CHAPTER16
Carlie
Every piece of clothing I own is mocking me.
When I agreed to dinner with Adam, I clearly wasn’t thinking about the fact that my wardrobe consists mostly of sweatshirts and comfy, stretchy pants.
The life of a writer really doesn’t have to consist of much else, let’s be honest here.
Sifting through my closest, every movement is a reminder of Jillian’s workout from hell and it makes me regret every single attempt at a sit-up. I groan, trying to reach for a dress but ending up clutching my side instead.
God, I hope Adam wasn’t able to sense just how bad this is.
“Why does everything hurt?” I groan to myself, grimacing at the colorful array of clothes that seem more like a puzzle than fashion choices at this point.
As I’m about to give up and head for the store, my phone buzzes.