“I know about Jamie and Juliana,” Millie interrupted.
Ele paused, looking at Millie with shock and then resignation. “I can get over a man I hardly know, but I couldn’t get over disappointing my family.”
“You know, there are moments, seemingly innocuous events in our lives, that push us in a different direction or open a door or become a catalyst for change. We don’t realize it at the time, but later, with distance and perspective, we can look back and pinpoint exactly when our lives changed. For you, it’s obvious, right? That day, now twelve and a half years ago, changed your course. It wasn’t innocuous or small. It was big and terrible and cataclysmic. But then, one day in March, Jamie asked to see you, made me change appointments and get him in. He asked you to cover an appearance. No bother; the two of you negotiate on a regular basis. But that change in your schedule also changed your life. Without meeting Tristan Davenport, you aren’t in Chicago, trying to overcome your past. So, you can claim indifference and list the thirty reasons you can’t be with him. And fine, there are things I don’t know, situations I can’t understand. You can keep your secrets. But know this: that footballer, he loves you. He could be the great love of your life, or he could be the greatest friendship you’ve allowed yourself to have. But he’s reached out to you in the only way he knew how. And if you don’t respond, you will always regret it.”
Sometime during Millie’s speech, tears slipped down Ele’s cheeks, staining her face with a spattering of mascara and tracks of salt. Now, Ele reached up and wiped them away. Then, she leaned forward, dropping her chin onto her fist.
“I assume you have his number?” Ele finally asked.
A triumphant smile lit Millie’s face. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
33
12 October
St. Peter’s Training Ground
Tristan left his room and headed down to the meal station. There was no training session this afternoon. He’d contemplated leaving with Caleb and Rowan, but apparently, he’d grown a vagina in the last couple of months. Something about being at St. Peter’s Training Ground comforted and haunted him. The first day back, during assessments, he had seen Ele battling the Batak as clearly as the day she’d shown up and crashed his life. He’d had to do a double take, assuring himself he was merely projecting her image. Unfortunately, Rowan had been watching him, and Tristan could feel his friend’s concern. It was one of the reasons he hadn’t accompanied them today. He didn’t need Rowan trying to get into his head. He had enough clutter up there.
His mobile buzzed in his pocket, but with his hands and the room full, he allowed it to go to voice mail. He ate with some of his teammates but then snuck out without allowing anyone to ask him to hang. Back in his room, he fished his mobile out of his pocket and checked the missed call. It was an American number, and the hairs on his arm stood up straight. He grabbed his wallet and rooted through it for the heavy vellum card he’d stowed there all those weeks ago. The gold numbers seemed to glow in front of him as he set the card on his desk and glanced back and forth between his phone and the card. In an instant, he confirmed the number was the one he’d had to physically restrain himself from dialing. She didn’t leave a message, but he didn’t need one.
He touched the number with his finger and lifted it to his ear.
“Hi,” she answered on the second ring.
He closed his eyes and dropped his head onto his fist. “Hi,” he croaked, his throat suddenly chock-full of gravel.
“It’s Ele,” she said, tentative.
“I know.” His voice had returned to normal, and he was grateful for it. “How are you?”
“I’m good. Better now.” He actually heard her smile through the line.
“Me too.” Because he was. Something clicked and locked into place inside of him. His body relaxed even though he hadn’t known he’d been tense. His muscles let go of their stiffness, and he recognized suddenly how tight he’d been since he left her in the palace.
“I have a question for you.”
“Shoot.”
“How did you manage to get away on opening day of the season for enough time to corner Jamie in an elevator?”
Tristan blushed all the way to the roots of his hair. “Um, how much detail do you want?”
Ele laughed, and the sound rushed through him. “Minute by minute.”
“I faked a stomach ailment.” He wasn’t really embarrassed, but he was glad she couldn’t see him
.
“What kind of stomach ailment?”
Chuckling, he said, “The shits.”
Ele cracked up. When she got control of herself, she asked, “How did that help?”
“Oh, easy. Brendan, our physio, knew I might have to duck out of the team meeting. When Jamie arrived, I left for the restroom.” He cleared his throat. “I might have downloaded some farting sounds and left my phone in the restroom in case anyone came looking for me.”
“Oh … my … gosh!” she sputtered between laughs.