Page 83 of Endurance
I exhale, relieved that I’ve got mine sorted already. It’s a Badgley Mischka gown that looks as if it was custom made for me. It hugs all the good spots and minimises all the problem areas. Although, if you asked Tanner, he would say there are no bad areas on my body. He would know since we experimented with that chocolate drizzle, meaning of life talk he promised.
“I’m really looking forward to this fundraiser.”
Indie’s comment makes me smile. I can’t believe the big night is already here. Both Bethnal and Arsenal are playing neighbouring teams, so Indie, Camden, Booker, and of course Tanner are all planning to come to the event after their matches finish, along with several other Bethnal players and WAGs. They bought a large sponsor table and everything.
Tomorrow is also Tanner’s first match back with Bethnal Green, so he’s been vibrating with nerves the last couple of days. Sadly, I’m not able to attend. Dr. Miller asked me to welcome the charity’s honoured family at the Shangri-La Hotel at The Shard. The event is taking place in the ballroom that evening, but I’m to have high tea with them in the Westminster Suite when they arrive. The upside is that I get to keep the room for the night.
And, win or lose, Tanner has made serious promises for how we’ll take advantage of that.
But tonight we’re doing ordinary things that couples do.
Indie steps out of her dressing room, back in her athletic pants and Bethnal T-shirt. I shake my head at her. “I forgot what you even look like in scrubs.”
She frowns at her clothing. “I just came from practice, thank you very much.”
I put my hands up in defence. “You look great. I’m just curious if you miss surgery at all.”
She adjusts her yellow eyewear and slings her black gown over her shoulder. “I certainly don’t miss the anxiety of life or death, nor do I miss the politics and the networking I always had to do. Football has its fair share, too, but, I don’t know…The energy of the match and the athletes excites me so much more than a stuffy surgical theatre ever did.”
“More like the energy of Camden Harris,” I jeer and tweak my eyebrows at her.
She smiles and drops down by my feet on the lounger. She has a starry-eyed look about her that makes me smile.
“I’m kind of crazy in love with that man.”
My brows lift. “Well done, you.” She rolls her eyes but I don’t relent. “There was a time when you never thought you’d have sex, let alone fall in love.”
She sets her toffee eyes on me. “And now look at me…A big pile of mushy, pun-loving goo.”
My smile falters a little. “Are you really that secure in your love, Indie?”
“Of course I am!” she exclaims. “What do you mean?”
I swallow hard. “I mean, look. You and I understand each other. We’re the perfect roommates because we’re cut from the same cloth. Our families might appear night and day different from the outside, but there are some definite parallels I can draw that make us so alike it’s scary.”
“Yes, I would agree with that,” Indie states with a pragmatic nod of the head.
“Don’t you find it hard to let go completely? I mean, you are the first real sense of family I’ve ever had and that took us years to build. How did you get past your issues with Camden?”
She eyes me thoughtfully. “Well, I think my friendship with you helped me learn how to open up a bit.”
I quirk a brow as I ponder my takeaway from our friendship. “I’d say you helped me not turn into a completely cynical arsehole.”
Indie beams. “That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
I huff out a self-deprecating laugh. “But really, how do you ever trust that your love with someone is genuine?”
She looks embarrassed. “So I’m going to tell you something, but promise not to take the piss out of me.”
“What?” I ask, frowning.
“I sort of…have a philosophy on love.”
My eyes twinkle with mirth. God, Indie is such a nerd sometimes. I’m betting she’s read a few books on love and formed her own theory. Always the researcher.
“Please, Indie Porter, Doctor of Love, tell me all that you’ve learned since you’ve been in love for a hot five months.”
She rolls her eyes and continues as if I didn’t just make some smart arse remark. “I think truly loving someone is a three-tier system.” She holds up three fingers and slowly ticks each number off as she goes. “First, and most important, is how they make you feel about yourself. Are they good to you? Do they accept you for your flaws? See the best in you? The second is how they feel about themselves. Do they take pride in what they do? Do they strive to become more? Do they love themselves? And the third tier is…” She pauses and pushes her glasses up on her nose. Then she pins me to the chaise lounge with her eyes, showing me she’s one hundred percent serious. “Do you inspire each other?”
