by J Santiago
“No. But, yes.” Millie shuffled forward, so her whole face filled the screen. For emphasis, Ele thought. “Do you want to see?”
“Yes.”
Millie held up a piece of paper. On it were lines of text. The first letters were like seventy-two-point font, and the rest were a regular twelve. Ele started from the top, opting for the small segments rather than the big picture.
Everything matters—even on off days.
Come on back. The pitch awaits.
Onward. Every day is one step closer.
My boyz. Those who have your six are always close.
Easy day on the pitch.
Back to basics.
Another win. Another dance move. Another time.
Chi-Town throwback. Magic.
Kind of like faith. Must have.
Trust me. I’ve got this.
Oh, yeah. I’m looking for my glass slipper.
Memories captured here.
Eyes on the prize.
Ele took a deep breath.
“E, come back to me.” Millie pulled the paper away from the screen. “Do you see it? What do you think?”
Ele lifted her hand and glanced down. She was shaking. She daydreamed about Tristan, fantasized about being a girl who fell for a guy. But after the disaster at the palace, she knew they could never really have anything because neither of them was ordinary. In their country, they could never walk down the street or go to a restaurant or sit at a bar. Their separate obligations would leave them little time together. And she was quite certain, she wouldn’t be able to travel to his games or really support him the way she would want to. And those concerns were small compared to the problem of her family, her duty, and her obligations. If they were ever to get married—what?—she would have to give up her crown. She could live with that, but she wasn’t sure her family could, and she didn’t know if she could leave Jamie in such a lurch. If the government found out that Jamie could not father any children and Ele renounced the crown, it could mean the monarchy would cease to exist in its current form when her grandmother passed. And she didn’t know if she could override her sense of duty—even for love.
“It’s sweet,” Ele finally confirmed.
Millie scrutinized her. “Sweet?”
“Sweet.”
“He cornered Jamie in the elevator to make sure you were okay.”
Ele smiled, knowing that sounded just like him. “Of course he did.”
“Are you going to reach out to him?”
“Probably not.”
Millie’s horrified expression filled the screen as she moved closer to the camera function. “Why not?” she demanded, apparently forgetting she was speaking to her boss. “Sorry,” she offered.
Ele waved her off. “Because, Millie, I can’t just date him. And when I offered to secretly date him, he was a little offended.” She smiled at the memory of their last conversation. He’d tried to play off the hurt, but she had seen it smoldering in his eyes. “But even if I could, I’d just be setting us both up for heartache.”
“How? You could be together.”
“Oh my God, Millie. Stop! We can’t. I’d have to basically be disowned, or he’d have to give up his career. I could never ask him to do that. Have you seen him play? He was born to run up and down the pitch, and I was born to be a princess. Some things just don’t match.”
“But you don’t care about all that.”
“No, not about the tiaras and money. But I care about my family and my duty. There are things you don’t know—”
“I know about Jamie and Juliana,” Millie interrupted.
Ele paused, looking at Millie with shock and then resignation. “I can get over a man I hardly know, but I couldn’t get over disappointing my family.”
“You know, there are moments, seemingly innocuous events in our lives, that push us in a different direction or open a door or become a catalyst for change. We don’t realize it at the time, but later, with distance and perspective, we can look back and pinpoint exactly when our lives changed. For you, it’s obvious, right? That day, now twelve and a half years ago, changed your course. It wasn’t innocuous or small. It was big and terrible and cataclysmic. But then, one day in March, Jamie asked to see you, made me change appointments and get him in. He asked you to cover an appearance. No bother; the two of you negotiate on a regular basis. But that change in your schedule also changed your life. Without meeting Tristan Davenport, you aren’t in Chicago, trying to overcome your past. So, you can claim indifference and list the thirty reasons you can’t be with him. And fine, there are things I don’t know, situations I can’t understand. You can keep your secrets. But know this: that footballer, he loves you. He could be the great love of your life, or he could be the greatest friendship you’ve allowed yourself to have. But he’s reached out to you in the only way he knew how. And if you don’t respond, you will always regret it.”
Sometime during Millie’s speech, tears slipped down Ele’s cheeks, staining her face with a spattering of mascara and tracks of salt. Now, Ele reached up and wiped them away. Then, she leaned forward, dropping her chin onto her fist.
“I assume you have his number?” Ele finally asked.
A triumphant smile lit Millie’s face. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
33
12 October
St. Peter’s Training Ground
Tristan left his room and headed down to the meal station. There was no training session this afternoon. He’d contemplated leaving with Caleb and Rowan, but apparently, he’d grown a vagina in the last couple of months. Something about being at St. Peter’s Training Ground comforted and haunted him. The first day back, during assessments, he had seen Ele battling the Batak as clearly as the day she’d shown up and crashed his life. He’d had to do a double take, assuring himself he was merely projecting her image. Unfortunately, Rowan had been watching him, and Tristan could feel his friend’s concern. It was one of the reasons he hadn’t accompanied them today. He didn’t need Rowan trying to get into his head. He had enough clutter up there.
His mobile buzzed in his pocket, but with his hands and the room full, he allowed it to go to voice mail. He ate with some of his teammates but then snuck out without allowing anyone to ask him to hang. Back in his room, he fished his mobile out of his pocket and checked the missed call. It was an American number, and the hairs on his arm stood up straight. He grabbed his wallet and rooted through it for the heavy vellum card he’d stowed there all those weeks ago. The gold numbers seemed to glow in front of him as he set the card on his desk and glanced back and forth between his phone and the card. In an instant, he confirmed the number was the one he’d had to physically restrain himself from dialing. She didn’t leave a message, but he didn’t need one.
He touched the number with his finger and lifted it to his ear.
“Hi,” she answered on the second ring.
He closed his eyes and dropped his head onto his fist. “Hi,” he croaked, his throat suddenly chock-full of gravel.
“It’s Ele,” she said, tentative.
“I know.” His voice had returned to normal, and he was grateful for it. “How are you?”
“I’m good. Better now.” He actually heard her smile through the line.
“Me too.” Because he was. Something clicked and locked into place inside of him. His body relaxed even though he hadn’t known he’d been tense. His muscles let go of their stiffness, and he recognized suddenly how tight he’d been since he left her in the palace.
“I have a question for you.”
“Shoot.”
“How did you manage to get away on opening day of the season for enough time to corner Jamie in an elevator?”
Tristan blushed all the way to the roots of his hair. “Um, how much detail do you want?”
Ele laughed, and the sound rushed through him. “Minute by minute.”
“I faked a stomach ailment.” He wasn’t really embarrassed, but he was glad she couldn’t see him
.
“What kind of stomach ailment?”
Chuckling, he said, “The shits.”
Ele cracked up. When she got control of herself, she asked, “How did that help?”
“Oh, easy. Brendan, our physio, knew I might have to duck out of the team meeting. When Jamie arrived, I left for the restroom.” He cleared his throat. “I might have downloaded some farting sounds and left my phone in the restroom in case anyone came looking for me.”
“Oh … my … gosh!” she sputtered between laughs.
“Right brilliant, huh?”
Ele laughed harder. It went on for a couple of heartbeats, and Tristan envisioned her, curled up in the corner of some couch, the phone to her ear, a smile wide on her face. What he would give to be with her in the same room—hell, the same country.
I’ve got it bad for this woman.
“When you scored that banger, didn’t anyone suspect you were lying?”
Tristan sat up higher in his chair. “Scored that banger? How did you know I’d scored that banger?” he imitated with her posh accent.
The silence from her side of the phone was deafening.
“E? Did we convert you into a football fan?”
She cleared her throat, and Tristan grinned. “There’s a Hartesfield United viewing club here. They rent out a pub not too far from where I’m staying. I stumbled upon it and have caught a few games.”
“A few, huh?”
If chagrined embarrassment had a sound, it was Ele’s huff. Knowing she watched his matches produced an unexpected high. He thought back to the summer and playing in front of her. He wouldn’t have said anything was missing when he returned to his club team this season, but at this moment, he knew why being on the pitch had been flat. And acknowledging it scared him. Football was everything to him. It was his constant, his home away from home, his life. Tristan wanted to blame Jamie for his what are you willing to give up speech, even as he knew he didn’t want to think about it right now. He also didn’t want to embarrass Ele unduly, so he decided to switch the subject.
“Tell me about where you are and what you’ve been doing.”
“I’m in Chicago.”
“Really?”
He couldn’t help it if his mind made connections between where she was and the time they’d spent together there. He was tempted to tease her again, but it was enough for him to know she was there even if she couldn’t or wouldn’t articulate why she’d chosen to go there of all places. He was sure her family owned a couple of islands, small countries, a planet or two. She could have escaped anywhere. But he knew, like he knew when to cross a ball, she was in Chicago because he’d made her comfortable there, kept her safe. He didn’t need her to say it even though he would love to hear it.
“Yes. And”—she paused, and Tristan leaned forward with earnest interest—“I’m getting help. Talking about everything is difficult. I usually leave my sessions and nap.” She chuckled, free and easy. “I have no idea what the results will be, but it’s a start.”
“Well done, Ele. I’m so proud of you.”
He needed to talk to her about the disaster at the palace, and although it appeared a perfect opening, he hesitated. But she didn’t.
“Tris, I am really sorry about what happened at the celebration. It was supposed to be a big night for the team, and I ruined it.”
“No, you didn’t ruin it. It was my fault. I was trying to draw the paps away from the room and you, but then you were there. And I couldn’t do a bloody thing to help you. I think Sheena and I made it worse.”
Even knowing Jamie’s complicity in the whole affair, Tristan should have protected her.
“It couldn’t have gotten much worse than me having a full-out panic attack. Trust me; there wasn’t anything you could have done to stop what happened. And perhaps it’s one of those blessings in disguise. I never would have left to get help if I hadn’t experienced that … that …”
“Shitshow?”
Ele snickered. “An adequate description.”
“It seems a steep price to pay.”
“Yes, but isn’t that the way of the world?”
“Are you getting philosophical on me?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. All this introspection and evaluation is bleeding over.”
She heaved a great sigh, and Tristan tensed, knowing she was going to end the call. He wasn’t ready to let her go though, so he racked his brain for something important to say. Then, her last words echoed in his head, reminding him she talked important stuff all of the time. So, maybe something frivolous was in order.
“Have you gone back to Navy Pier?” he said into the silent space, pulling the conversation and her attention away from the looming good-bye.
“I haven’t. It doesn’t appear to be the best place to explore on your own.”
His simple question propelled them into a conversation about the best places she’d discovered in Chicago. From there, they discussed Ele’s favorite places in the world. As a child and adolescent, she had traveled extensively with her parents and Jamie. At the time, she explained, she hadn’t realized she wasn’t actually seeing the grit and glamour of all of the places she visited. Palaces, governing houses, and security-approved areas left much unexplored. But there was a sense of each country she could articulate. Her best memories of foreign places though had come from her experiences of working with the crown’s foundation for clean drinking water. Ele spoke with enthusiasm and intelligence about the well-digging expeditions of which she’d been a part.
“The counselor asked me if I could explain my fearlessness of traveling in third-world countries, and I couldn’t at first. But after a few days of sitting with the question, I was able to figure out that I wasn’t Princess Eleanor at that time. I was just another cog in the wheel of progress. And what does it say about my life that I am happiest when I am not the role that defines me?”
Tristan didn’t have any answers for her. But as the conversation continued on, he found himself even more enamored. Her astuteness was stunning, sometimes making him regret his lack of higher education. But even with it, he wasn’t sure he could match her natural smarts. And as sophisticated as she was, she held this simplistic view of the world. He thought it stemmed from growing up, knowing she would hold a place in history even if she wouldn’t directly make the decisions to shape it. If she saw a problem, her brain automatically reached for a solution because solutions to problems always existed for people with unlimited resources. Her inability to solve her own problem had been a constant source of stress.
“I should have been able to stop the panic attacks. Or, well, that’s what I thought. Admitting that I couldn’t made it worse somehow. Because, in all other aspects of my life, I’m strong, and to not have any control was almost worse than experiencing them.”
By the time Caleb rapped on his door, Tristan was jammed up against the wall, knees bent, his phone linked to a charger.
“T-Dav. Mate, you coming to dinner?”
He quickly muted the phone and yelled, “Be there in a minute.”
“Whatcha doing in there? Boys said you’ve been holed up in here all day. Find a good porn site, did you?”
Despite his annoyance at the interruption, he found himself snickering. “No, you dickhead. Go away.”
Tristan heard some yammering, guys shuffling through the hallway. But he listened for a moment, assuring himself Caleb had gone.
He unmuted the phone. “Sorry, E. I’ve got dinner.”
There was rustling and then a muttered, “Holy hell.” She remarked with awe, “We’ve been talking for almost four hours.”
“I had to charge my phone about an hour ago.” Tristan laughed.
He knew he needed to go, but he was reluctant to get off the phone. Even with all the confidences she’d shared today, he couldn’t be sure she would reach out to him again. He wanted to hold on for as long as he could.
Ele cleared her throat. “It was really good to talk to you.”
/> Tristan sobered instantly. “Talk tomorrow?”
“Really?” she asked excitedly.
“Really. I’m not sure I’ll have this long tomorrow. We have a training session after lunch.”
“Of course. I’m not sure I have four more hours of things to talk about. But, um … I do need to ask you something. I wasn’t going to ask because it really doesn’t matter all that much anymore.”
“Ele, you can ask me anything.”
“Did you send me a message through your social media account? Millie is convinced you did. She had this preposterous idea that—”
“Yes,” he interrupted. “I had no idea if it would work. After the cock-up at the palace, I was so worried about you, but I thought it was probably better if I didn’t try to contact you. Plus, how does one go about getting in touch with a princess? I was a bit twisted up about it all. Then, I saw Jamie, and I got the impression he was challenging me to go after you.”
“But that can’t be true. He told me I had to stay away from you. ‘No more Tristan Davenport,’ ” she imitated in a spot-on crown prince voice.
“That’s a bit scary, love.”
“Right, well, he is my twin brother.”
“I was still going to leave you alone. But then I received a picture at my flat.”
“A picture. What kind of picture?”
Tristan had an internal debate about revealing everything to her, but ultimately, he wanted her to trust him, so he blurted it out, “A picture of you. You were in a bar of some sort, and there were a few Hartesfield United flags hanging from the rafters. You were watching a game on a big screen. Your back was to the camera, and you were wearing a hat and a Davenport kit—fucking sexy as hell, by the way. It threw me at first. In fact, I was really angry, and I was determined to figure out how to get in touch with your brother to let him know someone was watching you.”
She didn’t make a sound on the other end of the line.
“You okay?”
“Yes,” she said softly.
“But then I turned the photo over, and there was a message.”
“What did it say?”
“It said, I’ve got eyes on our girl.”
