The Playbook for Heartbreak
On the hardwood floor near the coat stand lay Terry’s gym bag, right where he had hurled it.
Terry stood motionless in the center of the living area, his back to her, his broad shoulders rising and falling with heavy, rhythmic breaths as the adrenaline gradually ebbed from his system. His dark grey workout shirt was stretched tight across his back, damp near the collar from his morning skate at MSG.
Eve looked down at her laptop display, where the glowing blue spreadsheet of team analytics sat paused beside an open email draft to Vance's corporate legal team.
"Terry," Eve said softly.