“Should I be offended?” Ele teased.
“No. You always have my back. And Jules too. But don’t you ever wonder if there’s something we’re missing out on?”
She did. “We have whatever we need and things we didn’t even know we wanted. And all we have to give is our time and effort. We get to travel the world, although we don’t really get to experience mu
ch of it, do we? Is it arrogant and selfish to think we deserve something else, something so indefinable as love?”
Jamie graced her with what she considered their smile—the slight tilt of the right side of the mouth, the crinkle of twinkling eyes. It warmed her. But not all the way through, not to the suddenly unearthed empty corner of her heart. Not even he could fill that spot.
“I get it. There has to be more, right?”
2
31 March
St. Peter’s Training Ground
Tristan Davenport was on top of the world.
He crested the hill in his BMW, the majesty of St. Peter’s Training Ground spread out before him. He wanted to race toward the complex, squeal into the parking lot, and let the sound of the rubber scraping the road announce his arrival. Although it was a solitary entry, in his head, there were trumpets blaring, banners waving, and crowds screaming his name.
T-Dav! T-Dav! T-Dav!
Against every instinct he possessed, he rolled almost silently into the parking space. The urge to immortalize the moment was too much for him to resist. He reached over, grabbed his phone, and contorted his body, so the pitch could provide the perfect backdrop. Taking a quick picture, he posted it.
T-Dav has arrived. Ring the bells.
The notifications sounded, each ding an angel singing. Smiling wide, he slung his bag over his shoulder and walked to the dressing room. Intentionally, he arrived early, so he could enjoy the pristine view, the smell of the dew on the grass, and an unhurried stroll through the building. He paused on the threshold, taking a moment to appreciate the realization of his lifelong dream. With his feet spread, he crossed his arms, turned his head to the left, and nodded. Anyone familiar with T-Dav knew his trademark pose. Nothing flashy because his flash came in front of the goal, his celebration more of an acknowledgment. He untangled his left hand and snapped another selfie.
Dream realized!
“How many selfies today?” Rowan asked from behind him.
Tristan smiled over his shoulder, not even a little embarrassed. “What are you doing here so early?”
“Ramsey request.”
“Skipper talk already?”
Rowan shook his head. “Doubt it. He wants to see you too.”
It didn’t matter that Nicolas Ramsey had chosen Tristan from thousands of other footballers or that Tristan had now had numerous conversations with him or even that he’d participated in three of Ramsey’s training sessions; Tristan continued to have a small case of hero worship. There were ballers you could claim were the best. But Nico Ramsey had set the bar for his generation. If Tristan looked at the National Team gaffer with a bit of awe and incredulity, it was only natural.
“What about?”
“Not sure.” Rowan started walking with Tristan toward the dressing room. “Why are you here so early?”
“Taking it in.”
“Keep it like that, Tris,” Rowan said, clapping him on the shoulder.
Tristan smiled. Rowan’s approval was almost as good as playing for Nicolas Ramsey.
“Shall we?”
Tristan nodded. “Do you still feel it, playing for your country?”
Tristan didn’t think he would be disappointed with any answer. But when Rowan didn’t speak for a moment, Tristan realized that wasn’t quite true.