Page 16 of My Grumpy Billionaire Soccer Star

A brief silence ensues, and from the look on Craig’s face as he examines mine, I can tell that something is on his mind. Perhaps he sees that something is on mine, too?

He shifts in his chair, assuming a more upright position. “Well, speaking of soccer playing, how have things been lately regarding your career?”

I have called him specifically to talk about this, but the question still manages to catch me off guard.

I pause briefly before answering. “Yeah, well, about that . . . as you know, I haven’t been active on the field due to my injury. Ihave been more involved in deals and sponsorships, and I spend more time at my charity organization.”

“I see. And how would you say that has impacted you?”

I haven’t given much thought to this. I have always had a busy schedule, and despite the injury, I still do. So, the injury doesn’t make much of a difference in my busy life. But how does it make me feel?

“Well, Doc, I think I feel less pressured since the injury. I get to have a more flexible schedule when it comes to training, and not having the coach breathing down my neck is sort of a relief. I get to spend more time at the charity organization, which I guess is a good thing since it’s something impactful.” I throw up my hands. “Well, I guess it feels good to take a break.”

“Hmm,” Craig lets out a thoughtful murmur. It’s crazy that even a murmur could be thoughtful. “So, would you say that the injury was a blessing in disguise?”

No. This ain’t no blessing in disguise! There’s no way being a limping man, even if it’s for a short time, can be a blessing in disguise! I can’t even train intensely.

A ripple of annoyance flashes through me as I recall how the asshole from the opponent team tackled me roughly. I was with the ball, and I was already within the eighteenth yard from the opponent’s goal post and could already see the ball doing cartwheels in the goal net when, all of a sudden, I felt heavy boots crash on my right thigh as I positioned myself to deliver a shot. I immediately collapsed on the floor in agonizing pain. We scored a penalty with the foul, and the player was given a red card, but I was still very injured.

“Maybe.” I shrug at the doctor. “I prefer to see it more as a break to do other things than a blessing in disguise. I can’t even engage in intense training, and my stamina seems to have declined as well.”

“I’m sure you will get it back with time. After all, you’re the greatest player in the country.”

“That I am.”

We go on to talk about my aversion to crowds despite being a celebrity, and I tell him how it is part of the reason I feel stressed out after my trip.

“Well, there’s nothing much to do about that, is there, Doc? I have an assistant who should oversee these things, but it seems someone sells information to publicity outlets about my whereabouts. It’s annoying.”

“I think we should address the root cause of your aversion. Is it something you think you can control?”

I assume my face takes on a contorted look of confusion. “There’s no root cause for why I don’t fancy crowds that much. I just like to be left alone in peace. But given the kind of life I lead, I know that’s not possible. Even when I try to keep it to the bare minimum, it still doesn’t work.”

The doctor’s blue eyes were fixed on my face, silently urging me to continue.

I inhale deeply. “I love my fans, but I am still human.”

His briefcase clicks open, and he brings out a notepad from inside, reaches into his breast pocket, and pulls out a pen. Then, he begins scribbling something.

“I understand” is what he simply says.

He looks up at me again, and then he drops a question I don’t think I want to reply to.

“What about your family? When was the last time you spoke with them?”

For some reason, the image of Rachel’s judgmental stare when I talked to my mother on the phone in the jet flashes through my mind.

“I talked with my mother earlier today.”

Or did I?

I really didn’t talk to her. She wanted to talk, so I told her I was busy.

“You said you told her you were busy?”

I jerk my head up toward Craig. “Did I say that out loud?”

“You did.”

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