“Right brilliant, huh?”
Ele laughed harder. It went on for a couple of heartbeats, and Tristan envisioned her, curled up in the corner of some couch, the phone to her ear, a smile wide on her face. What he would give to be with her in the same room—hell, the same country.
I’ve got it bad for this woman.
“When you scored that banger, didn’t anyone suspect you were lying?”
Tristan sat up higher in his chair. “Scored that banger? How did you know I’d scored that banger?” he imitated with her posh accent.
The silence from her side of the phone was deafening.
“E? Did we convert you into a football fan?”
She cleared her throat, and Tristan grinned. “There’s a Hartesfield United viewing club here. They rent out a pub not too far from where I’m staying. I stumbled upon it and have caught a few games.”
“A few, huh?”
If chagrined embarrassment had a sound, it was Ele’s huff. Knowing she watched his matches produced an unexpected high. He thought back to the summer and playing in front of her. He wouldn’t have said anything was missing when he returned to his club team this season, but at this moment, he knew why being on the pitch had been flat. And acknowledging it scared him. Football was everything to him. It was his constant, his home away from home, his life. Tristan wanted to blame Jamie for his what are you willing to give up speech, even as he knew he didn’t want to think about it right now. He also didn’t want to embarrass Ele unduly, so he decided to switch the subject.
“Tell me about where you are and what you’ve been doing.”
“I’m in Chicago.”
“Really?”
He couldn’t help it if his mind made connections between where she was and the time they’d spent together there. He was tempted to tease her again, but it was enough for him to know she was there even if she couldn’t or wouldn’t articulate why she’d chosen to go there of all places. He was sure her family owned a couple of islands, small countries, a planet or two. She could have escaped anywhere. But he knew, like he knew when to cross a ball, she was in Chicago because he’d made her comfortable there, kept her safe. He didn’t need her to say it even though he would love to hear it.
“Yes. And”—she paused, and Tristan leaned forward with earnest interest—“I’m getting help. Talking about everything is difficult. I usually leave my sessions and nap.” She chuckled, free and easy. “I have no idea what the results will be, but it’s a start.”
“Well done, Ele. I’m so proud of you.”
He needed to talk to her about the disaster at the palace, and although it appeared a perfect opening, he hesitated. But she didn’t.
“Tris, I am really sorry about what happened at the celebration. It was supposed to be a big night for the team, and I ruined it.”
“No, you didn’t ruin it. It was my fault. I was trying to draw the paps away from the room and you, but then you were there. And I couldn’t do a bloody thing to help you. I think Sheena and I made it worse.”
Even knowing Jamie’s complicity in the whole affair, Tristan should have protected her.
“It couldn’t have gotten much worse than me having a full-out panic attack. Trust me; there wasn’t anything you could have done to stop what happened. And perhaps it’s one of those blessings in disguise. I never would have left to get help if I hadn’t experienced that … that …”
“Shitshow?”
Ele snickered. “An adequate description.”
“It seems a steep price to pay.”
“Yes, but isn’t that the way of the world?”
“Are you getting philosophical on me?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. All this introspection and evaluation is bleeding over.”
She heaved a great sigh, and Tristan tensed, knowing she was going to end the call. He wasn’t ready to let her go though, so he racked his brain for something important to say. Then, her last words echoed in his head, reminding him she talked important stuff all of the time. So, maybe something frivolous was in order.
“Have you gone back to Navy Pier?” he said into the silent space, pulling the conversation and her attention away from the looming good-bye.
“I haven’t. It doesn’t appear to be the best place to explore on your own.”