Let Me Be the One (The Sullivans #6)(65)

And to love him with her entire heart…and soul.

* * *

Ryan had barely closed the front door behind him when her phone rang. The past few days she’d gotten used to ignoring the calls from reporters and bloggers, but when she recognized the Italian country code, she knew she had to pick up.

Of course Anthony wouldn’t be happy with merely giving the horrible interview. He’d want to make sure she saw it so that he could rub it in her face.

Damn it, she wasn’t going to let him run her in circles. “Your tricks don’t work on me anymore, Anthony, so you might as well quit trying.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Signorina Bennett?”

Oh! It wasn’t her ex-husband calling. It was an Italian woman. One who was clearly confused by Vicki’s outburst.

“Si, I’m sorry, this is Vicki Bennett.”

“I apologize for calling you with no warning,” the woman said in perfect English with a pretty Italian accent. “I am with the Museum of Contemporary Sculpture in Matera. We have been reviewing your work for the past few months and I am calling with some very good news. We have selected a dozen of your works to be put on display, and would be very pleased to offer you an artist-in-residence position.”

While she’d been in Prague, Vicki had sent packages to a dozen museums around the world with artist-in-residence programs, deciding she would let fate be her guide.

She’d thought fate had chosen San Francisco. And Ryan.

What the heck was fate up to now?

Knowing the woman likely expected her to accept on the spot, Vicki finally managed to at least say, “I’m thrilled that you’ve chosen my sculptures for your museum, of course, but—”

The women cut her off by informing her of a much larger yearly artist-in-residence grant amount than she would make in San Francisco.

If she even won the fellowship.

“We would like to give you some time to consider the position, of course. But we absolutely must know by the end of the week so that we can prepare the exposition and accompanying literature in time for your arrival. I’m sure you understand our position. We have emailed you all the details.”

The woman did not have to spell it out any further. If she didn’t accept within a week, the opportunity would go to another sculptor.

And she would have lost the biggest chance she’d ever had.

Taking the residency in Italy was about more than that. Because it meant it didn’t matter if she got the San Francisco fellowship anymore. Which meant that she didn’t have to worry about James or Anthony...and she and Ryan wouldn’t have to pretend to be engaged anymore.

But it would also mean leaving Ryan.

Yes, she knew they could probably figure out a way to make a long-distance relationship work, at least for the first few months after the season ended and his schedule was more flexible. But as soon as next baseball season began, nine months would go by before he would be able to get a plane to Europe.

She pulled the ring out from under her shirt and instinctively curled her hand around it. It wasn’t real.

But could it become real with more time? With more honesty? With more risk?

And more faith?

Vicki promised the woman she would read through everything carefully, and that she would have an answer for her soon.

Chapter Twenty-four

As soon as Ryan boarded the Hawks’ team plane, he was pulled into a strategy session with the pitching coach and catcher to study the lineup of the opposite team and go over the strong and weak points of every hitter. He already had a good sense of who was hot, who chased the fastballs, and which batters he could fool with his changeup. Good enough that his brain kept spinning back to Smith’s concerned phone call and the way Vicki’s face had fallen when he’d told her about the interview with her ex.

Smith had gotten back in touch to ask if there was anything Ryan wanted his PR team to do. Clearly, his brother was perfectly happy to use his connections to take down Vicki’s ex, especially within a community of ultra-rich movie people who had probably thrown plenty of money the sculptor’s way over the years.

It was really tempting to let Smith do that, just as he’d been all for his brother taking James apart. But Ryan couldn’t forget what Vicki had said that first night at the cocktail lounge. “If I win the fellowship, I want to know that it was because of the quality of my work.”

Smith and Marcus and the rest of the well-connected Sullivan clan could easily pull every trick and favor in the book for Vicki. But doing that would strip away her victories just as badly as her ex-husband had stripped them from her during their marriage.

Of course, Ryan still wanted to fly to Italy to rip the dickhead’s heart from his chest for hurting her.

The second the plane touched down, he called her. “I hope you have clay all over your hands,” he told her voice mail. “I miss you already. And I love you. Call me when you get home.”

By the time the Hawks got into Busch Stadium for a light workout, Ryan was more than ready to blow off some steam. He worked out so hard, in fact, that Bobby, the pitching coach, had to pull him aside.

“Looking good out there, Ryan. We’re getting ready to head out for dinner. You ready to go?”

Ryan put down the weights he’d been lifting, knowing it was time to quit ripping his body apart today. As the Hawks’ ace on the staff, he was pitching the first playoff game. He knew better than to blow out his muscles the day before a game, especially a huge game like this. But he’d never been slave to such frustration before. Not since that day when he’d watched Vicki ride her bike away from his house after she'd told him she was moving again. He’d ended up running after her, running long after she was out of sight, running until his legs had finally given out.