Page 149 of The Penalty

I smiled. “It sounds more intimidating than it is. I’m looking for someone to handle the marketing strategies and collaborative program development.” I opened one of my desk drawers and pulled out an information packet. “Read through this. It explains pretty much everything.”

“You don’t need an answer right away, do you?” she asked, flipping through the packet. “I’m still under contract with Holwood FC and have to finish out the season.”

“No. It’s not officially launching until next spring. Take it home. Read it at your leisure.”

Her expression softened while she read one of the sections. “This is all for your sister?” She sucked in a breath when she looked at me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t. This is my default reaction whenever I talk about her.”

Glossy red lips curved into a warm smile. “I get a good vibe from you. You’re not like the public relations guy at the club. He’s so phony. I swear he’s made of plastic.”

I covered my mouth and tried not to giggle. “Some can be.”

“That’s probably why I need to get away from footballers. All those egos.” She crossed her legs and leaned on an elbow. “Don’t get me started on the guys in the Premier League. They’re a special breed.”

For the second time in as many minutes, I couldn’t hold back my laughter. “I have a feeling we’d spend all night swapping stories about egomaniac athletes.”

“Not Dante, though. He’s a humble little angel.” Her facetious grin and dramatic eye roll cemented my growing admiration.

We chatted for a few more minutes before ending the meeting. Since Chelsea lives in London, we agreed to get together again next month when the Legends play their international game. We exchanged numbers and planned to stay in touch until then.

My heart sped up thinking about returning to London. I glanced at the time. Xavier should be finished training for the day. We haven’t texted much since the weekend. Apparently this game against the Netherlands was a pretty big one. According to all the online chatter, England should qualify for next summer’s tournament with a win or draw.

Me: How’s training?

Mildly Hot: Better than last time

Me: Are you busy?

Mildly Hot: Just relaxing. Still at work?

Me: Yeah. Just wrapped up my final meeting of the day

Mildly Hot: Have a few minutes to talk?

The phone vibrated in my hand before I could type a reply.

“Someone’s impatient,” I answered, staring at his handsome face. “Hi.”

“Don’t think I’ve actually ever seen you at work.” Sapphire eyes scanned the shelves behind me. “Fancy office.”

“Pfft. It’s not.”

An awkward cloud of silence settled over us. We stared at one another, wordless. Aside from social media posts, I haven’t looked at him since I left London. All of our communication has been via text.

His brows furrowed. A hint of frustration passed through his features.

The longer we stayed quiet, the more my anxiety ramped up. I wish I had the right words to convey what I’d been feeling since he unlocked part of his past.

I did have the right words. The problem? I’d spent so many years convincing myself I didn’t deserve the type of affection Xavier provided that I became used to shoving down what I truly felt. Leaving him hovering in a cloud of uncertainty didn’t sit right with me.

I longed for things to be normal between him and I, whatever that is.

I know what it’s not.

It’s not sitting here agonizing over what to say to the man I love. It’s not worrying if I broke him in some way when I left after he shared the most vulnerable parts of himself. It’s not tossing and turning at night wondering if every word that came out of Jordan’s mouth was true.

“Have you been able to go out and see Birmingham at all?” What the hell kind of question is that?

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