International Player(65)

I didn’t want Francesca or any other woman. I wanted Truly. I wanted her with me every night, by my side, beautiful without realizing it, funny and warm. I wanted her thinking I was the dumbest man on the planet because I hadn’t read all of Shakespeare’s sonnets. I wanted to peel off her yoga pants and fuck her in her Star Wars t-shirt. I wanted to fight with her, love her, live with her, explore the world with her.

And I needed to find a way to address all her fears, prove somehow that I wouldn’t ruin her or whatever she was afraid of. I might not be able to produce the empirical evidence I knew would talk her around, but I had to figure out something. I had to convince her that although I couldn’t give her any guarantees, I could tell her that there’d never be any other woman for me but her. That the only woman I could picture in my future was her.





Thirty-Four





Truly


As I stood in the doorway to Abigail and Rob’s place, a dark cloud of devastation clung to me despite me telling myself over and over that I’d made the right decision. I’d been practical, gotten out before I could get too hurt. I hadn’t expected to feel so heavy with regret. I wanted a different ending for Noah and me, and that was ridiculous. I knew better, but for some reason my heart was taking a little longer to see it my way.

I needed my sister.

Noah had gone to New York for a board meeting, so I could be sure to risk lunch at Abigail and Rob’s without running into him.

“Truly?”

I jumped as Rob opened the door.

“What are you doing out here? I didn’t hear the bell.”

“I was about to ring it.” I’d been stealing myself, trying to pull my proverbial socks up and push down this misery that rose from my belly.

“Come up immediately and tell me everything,” Abigail called from upstairs.

Rob chuckled. “You didn’t send her pictures from the other night, and she had to rely on Sarah or Sierra or someone—I don’t know. I do know she’s fuming.”

Sending pictures had been the last thing on my mind the night of the ball, and I couldn’t face showing her pictures yesterday, so I’d told her I was too sick to leave the house. I rolled my eyes and handed Rob a pot of single cream and the two leeks he’d asked me to pick up on the way. “I may be gone some time,” I said, starting on the stairs.

“As it’s just three of us today, I’m not going to bother bringing a table up, if that’s okay. Can we make do with trays?” Rob asked.

Three of us. Back to how things were before Noah had come back from New York. “Trays sound good to me. Give me a call when you’re ready and I’ll come give you a hand.”

“Truly!” Abigail shouted.

“I’m coming,” I replied, sprinting up the stairs.

“What were you talking to Rob about?” she asked.

“Trays. Why?” I bent and kissed her on the cheek.

“God knows what he’s getting up to while I’m stuck up here.”

“Well whatever it is, it’s not much if he’s getting up to it one floor away from you. Anyway, don’t think about it. You’re nearly cooked. Just a few weeks to go.” I flopped into the sofa, my muscles as exhausted as if I’d just been for a run.

“So. I’ve been waiting. I haven’t gotten a voicemail or pictures or anything. How did it go?”

I groaned and pulled my phone from my back pocket.

“You don’t seem very enthusiastic about it,” Abigail said. “Are you worried about how you looked in the dress because Simone sent me a couple of pictures and you looked amazing. Beautiful. You have nothing to worry about.”

“No, it’s not like that.” Normally I would be worried about what I looked like in the photographs—not through any kind of vanity but because I always felt so out of place and awkward. But I knew I fitted in that night. I didn’t have to see the photographs to know I was appropriately dressed and my makeup wasn’t over the top.

“Then what?” Abigail patted the bed behind her and shuffled over onto her other side.

I crawled onto the mattress next to her. “Nothing. I’ll show you how it went.” I didn’t want to look at photographs that no doubt included Noah, didn’t want to be reminded of that night. But there was no way I would get away with not showing Abigail what she’d been dying to see.

I took a deep breath and opened the correct file on my phone.

She took the handset and began to flip through the pictures. The first one was of me giving the speech. Noah must have taken it. My head was up, and I was grinning at the audience. I’d come a long way in the last five months. I could never have imagined I would feel almost comfortable up there, thanking everyone for their support over the course of the year.

“You look really confident in that first one, right? And that dress is beautiful on you.”

“Not bad.” I smiled and swiped across the screen. There were lots of photographs of the different speakers, then the auctioneer and the tables. At the very end was a photo of Noah and me. We were looking at each other like we were the only ones in the room. His eyes were soft and fixed on me, and we were sitting far too close to be just friends. My heart squeezed tighter and tighter until I could barely breathe.

“You look good together,” she said. “You’re both gorgeous.”