“I’ll tell Danny you said that.”
“Good.” He smiled in satisfaction. Then he waved. “I’ll lock up then.”
Jamie frowned at him. “Is everything all right?”
“Of course.” Jamie had just met hischérieand started his dream business. He should be focused on his wins—and his upcoming wedding in the spring. The last thing Didier wanted was for his old friend to worry about him. Besides, if he couldn’t figure out what was wrong with himself, Jamie wouldn’t be able to either. “Go. Enjoy your evening and your woman.”
“Are you sure?” Jamie gave him a searching gaze, as if trying to see into his heart.
Jamie had always had unerring instincts.
He nodded. “Vas-y.Je fermerai le bureau.”
“Okay.” Still frowning, Jamie backed out of his space.
“Bonne soirée,” he called after his friend.
Didier waited, wondering if Jamie was going to come back with reinforcements, but then he heard the soft click of the front entrance closing and he took a deep breath. He’d been successful putting Jamie off so far, but he wouldn’t be able to do it for much longer. His retirement from football had taken Jamie by surprise.
It’d taken him by surprise too. The last thing he’d expected was to retire so early.
It was true that in the pro-athlete world, at thirty-seven most people would be nearing the point of retirement anyway, but he’d thought he could play for at least another five to ten years, maybe longer.
He’d been wrong.
He’d been conditioning on his own last year, the way he often did, when he’d become short of breath, his chest tight. The next thing he knew he was on the floor, staring up at the ceiling of his home gym. When he realized he’d collapsed—the bump on his head was loud and clear—he made an appointment with a doctor, who sent him to a specialist, who sent him to another specialist.
There was something wrong with his heart, but no one knew what it was. After countless tests, they couldn’t identify the problem. Maybe a sudden unexplainable drop in blood pressure, they thought.
When it’d happened a second time last April, he’d known he needed to leave football. What if it happened on the field, when his team needed him? What if something worse happened?
He put his hand on his chest, the way he often did now. He felt the strong beat, like there was nothing amiss.
He felt as if his heart were lying to him.
It’d certainly betrayed him. He’d followed it implicitly, dedicating himself to playing football. He’d promised that he’d only play where he’d be happy, and he protected it from the women who wanted to take advantage of its romantic sensibilities. He’d been good to his heart.
And it’d betrayed him like this.
He set his unfinished coffee on the table and went to the window.
When Jamie had decided to open Winners Inc., he’d seen another way. He could take control of his life again, one where he could have purpose. So he’d done what he did best—he saw the goal, he aimed, and he scored.
And now he was living in Chicago.
Only he didn’t feel any more in control than he had before he came here because his heart was a ticking bomb and he didn’t know when it might go off.
His mobile rang. He would have ignored it except it was Erik Nilsen’s ringtone. He missed the kid, who was back in Manchester playing, so he decided to answer.
He hit the button for the video call. “Bonsoir, mon ami,” he said with a smile. “It is late for you,non?”
“We were out partying to celebrate our win.” Erik grinned into the screen. “I’m home now though, and I was thinking about you and Jamie. How’s Chicago?”
“Cold.” He smiled. “You will have to come visit, but maybe in the spring.”
“What’s a little cold?” he said philosophically.
“Only someone who grew up in the wilds of Norway would feel that way. I grew up in Marseille, where the sun warms one’s bones and heats one’s soul.”