“I would appreciate that.” I smile. “Can you give me a minute and I’ll be out?”
She nods, closing the door behind her.
I quickly read Logan’s message before heading to the bathroom to fix my hair.
I’ve got this sudden urge to go sailing. I’m glad you need a man . . . and I’m sure you’ve got a line waiting to dock at your wharf.
You can tell me more this weekend when I’m in town.
He’ll be in town? I press dial, suddenly wanting to speak to him before I headed outside. I didn’t expect him to answer first ring.
“You’re coming to LA?” I ask without greeting him.
“I don’t even get a hello?” I can hear him teasing me with his smile. “Yes. For two days. We have a meeting with the US Soccer officials.”
“We as in you and Ash?”
“No, we as in me and my female posse.” There’s a quick pause before his laugh filters through. “Yes me and Ash. He’s leaving Alessandra behind. Thank god.”
“Where are you staying?”
“Not sure. They’ve booked us somewhere.”
I hear my name being called again. If I didn’t hang up now, Wes would walk in and all hell would break loose.
“Listen, I have to go. We’re in the middle of filming. I kinda stormed off set. Then George ate my bag. Long story. I guess I’ll see you next week.”
“Till then.”
We hang up, and without knowing it, I pull my phone towards my chest and smile. Jumping off the bed, I skip outside with a brighter attitude and make myself comfortable on the sofa. Wes picks up on my improved mood, and begins the same conversation we had started earlier.
“So, a winter wedding. In Paris?”
Resting my hand on his knee, I smile back with my heart in a much better place. “Sounds beautiful.”
“It all begins with something small.
A trigger; warning us that something dangerous lies ahead.”
~ Logan Carrington
Flying with Ash was never easy.
He fidgeted constantly, annoyed you by beginning a conversation when you’ve just placed your headphones on, then forced to remove it only to have him ask if he could eat your fucking pretzels.
He went on about Alessandra. Complaining about how she made him throw his dirty clothes into the hamper rather than leave them on the floor or how she scolded him for dumping wet towels on the bed. That was something I couldn’t fault Alessandra on—Ash is a fucking slob and no woman has ever been successful in changing him no matter how much pussy they gave up.
We flew first class to the States with the US Soccer officials wanting to meet to discuss the team they were putting together for the World Cup trials. Chris had a lengthy conversation with Coach and there was talk about Ash and I playing for the US team. I couldn’t believe the news. World Cup—a fucking dream. Representing our country meant everything to me so I was extremely keen to get onto US soil and possibly get picked.
That, and one other thing—Emerson.
Weeks had gone past without any contact and just like we said we would, we kept it our secret. It didn’t erase the constant reminder of that night. Fuck—I can’t even think about it now sitting next to Ash. Removing my headphones, I excuse myse
lf to use the restroom, leaving Ash to watch some movie with subtitles because the fucker thought there would be porn in it.
It’s a short walk to the main restroom, passing the other passengers that slept comfortably in their sleepers or busy typing away on their laptops. The hostess greets me, offering me a beverage. I tell her I’ll take a beer back at my chair.
Inside the tiny cubicle, I take a piss then wash my hands thoroughly. Goddamn germs were everywhere and I hated sharing such a small space. The quiet, confined area gets me thinking about Emmy again and the way we left things off.