indow and crawled back in bed. She stared at the ceiling and wondered how she was possibly going to get through the next week until the final playoffs game. When they heard of the sale, would they miss her?
And what about the week after that? Or next month or the month after that? Her and Valerie and Pebbles. Maybe she’d travel. Or move. Move far away from Seattle and the Chinooks and Ty. Far away from the pain of seeing them.
And Jules. What was she going to do about Jules? He’d quit his job at Boeing to come to work for her. There wasn’t a whisper of a chance that Landon would keep her assistant. She could keep him on, but in what capacity? Shoe coordinator? Jules would hate that.
At ten minutes after eleven, the phone on her nightstand rang. It was Ty. After every game, she went to his house or he came to hers. Tonight she didn’t answer. She turned the television to a loop news channel and saw that the Chinooks had lost Game Three in overtime and the series was now on to Pittsburgh.
At five the next morning, Ty called again. Faith figured he was just about to board the team jet. She would have to face him, of course. She would have to face him and tell him they couldn’t see each other, but she needed time. Time to first face the truth and compose a good believable lie.
Later that day, she’d convinced her mother that she had a horrible strep throat and a fever of a hundred and two. Since she looked like crap, it really hadn’t been a hard sell. She laid in bed all day, and that night, she watched the Chinooks win Game Four alone in her room.
Ty called that night and early the next morning. He left messages, but she didn’t return his calls. Jules visited her, and she figured she deserved an Academy Award for her performance of a sick patient. Or at the very least, a daytime Emmy. She had to tell him that Landon’s family would be using the box that night at the Key, and that he and her mother would have to sit in the nosebleed section. She made up a lame lie about a promise she’d made to Virgil, but he didn’t believe her. He kept asking her over and over if something had happened that he should know about. And over and over she lied.
That night at the Key, as Landon and his family watched from the owner’s box, Faith watched from her living room a few blocks away. The Chinooks lost Game Five in overtime. It broke her already broken heart, but not as much as hearing her telephone ring and knowing it was Ty. She didn’t think her heart could hurt anymore, but the next two days proved her wrong. Ty stopped calling, which was even more devastating than listening to his angry messages, and the Chinooks lost Game Six once again in overtime. Her team seemed to be imploding and there was nothing she could do about it.
The seventh and final game would be played in the Key to a capacity crowd that would not include Faith.
The morning after the Chinooks’ loss in Pittsburgh, Faith took a shower and brushed her teeth before noon. Her mother was with Pavel, probably at Ty’s, and she was alone. She checked her phone, but Ty hadn’t called. Not that she would answer.
Maybe he’d moved on. Maybe he was over her. Which was good. It was what she wanted, but just not quite so fast.
At ten that morning, someone rang her intercom from the lobby of her building. “If you don’t buzz me up,” Ty said through the speaker, sounding not only tired, but pissed off, “I’m going to call in a bomb threat and the whole building will have to be evacuated.” Her heart pounded in her chest at the sound of his voice.
“You’re bluffing.”
“Grab your umbrella. It’s raining outside.”
She would have to talk to him sooner or later. She’d just hoped it would be later. “Fine.” He appeared at her door less than a minute later. He looked exhausted and angry and delectable and her heart skidded to a stop in her chest.
“You don’t look like you’re dying.” His brows lowered and he frowned. “So why have you been avoiding me?”
“Come in.” She turned and he followed her into the living room. Pebbles jumped and yipped in an effort to get Ty’s attention and Faith had to drag her out on the terrace and shut the glass door. She gave a thought to the dog jumping off, but her luck wasn’t running in that direction these days.
Before she lost her nerve, she turned and said, “We can’t see each other anymore.”
He put his hands on his hips and gazed across the room at her. “Why?”
Her palms were clammy and her chest ached. She folded her arms across her heart instead of running across the room and throwing herself on him. She’d thought up a perfectly good lie last night. Something about Virgil. “I’m a widow.” That wasn’t it. There’d been more.
“You were a widow the past few weeks, and that didn’t stop you.” His gaze lowered to her hand. “Where’s your wedding ring?”
Damn. “I took it off in the shower.” Wow, that was lame. She just couldn’t lie cleverly with him staring a hole through her. Where was Layla when she needed her?
“You’ve taken a lot of showers at my house with it on. Try again.”
Behind her, Pebbles threw herself against the glass. Faith swallowed past the burning lump in her throat. “Being with you is wrong. I can’t do it anymore.” Pebbles barked and ran headfirst into the door. “It should never have happened. You need to concentrate on winning and I need to be by myself.” Again the dog threw herself against the glass and Faith knew exactly how the little dog felt. Her nerves unraveled even more and she glanced at the dog and yelled, “Stop that!” She returned her gaze to Ty, his beautiful blue eyes, and her heart shattered all over again. “I
can’t love you anymore. Please go before Pebbles kills herself.”
His hands dropped to his sides. Instead of leaving, he looked at her for several moments before he said, “Anymore?”
“What?”
“You said you can’t love me anymore.”
Crap. “I meant I can’t be with you anymore.”
“That isn’t what you meant.”