Page 85 of Once Upon A Player
It physically hurts as she walks away from me. And when she disappears around the corner, it’s like she’s taken a piece of me with her.
…
Violet
It’s midafternoon Tuesday when I squeeze Mum’s fingers and drop a soft kiss on her cheek. She came round from surgery a couple of hours ago, and although she keeps drifting in and out of consciousness, it’s amazing how great she is when she’s lucid.
“I won’t be long,” I tell her and Dad. I’m going to pick Sam up from his friend’s house and bring him back here to see Mum.
As I walk toward the reception area, my mind slips to Lucas. He’ll be almost in Spain by now, and my heart gives a little tug. I’m so happy we made up before he left. Every time I think about what he said at the press conference, I go all warm and gooey inside. He truly is the guy behind his mask. I wasn’t wrong.
Lucas stands up as I enter the reception, and I stop dead, my heart slamming against my ribs in shocked disbelief.
“Hey, Violet.” His sexy voice sends shivers along my arms, even though I’m still incapable of speech. “How’s your mum?”
“But…” I reach out and poke his chest, just to make sure I’m not seeing things due to stress. “How are you here?”
He gives an awkward shrug, as though he’s embarrassed. “I couldn’t leave you. Not when your mum’s in hospital.”
I haven’t cried once today, but his words very nearly push me over the edge. I clear my throat and don’t know what to say.
“Come and sit down for a minute.” He leads me to a couple of chairs by the window, where there’s a beautiful bouquet in a gift vase sitting on the floor. Did he buy my mum flowers?
Once again, I sniffle back tears.
We sit, and he angles his body toward me, shielding me from anyone else who might come into the area, and takes my hand. “Is your mum okay, Violet?”
I take a great lungful of air to try and clear my blocked throat. “Yes. The surgery was a huge success. She’s doing really well.”
“That’s great.”
I nod and lick my dry lips. “But you’re supposed to be touching down in Madrid right about now.”
“I know. But I don’t have to be there for another week. I canceled the flight.”
“But you hired a private jet.” I feel terrible that he’s wasted so much money. And he did it so he’d be here forme. I give him a watery smile. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
My heart just about overflows. “I’m going to miss you so much.”
“Me, too. Look, the thing is, there’s something I have to say.”
“What’s wrong?” I cradle his jaw. Whatever the problem is, we’ll fix it.Together.
“I know you’re not ready yet. I get it, but I need to ask. Just so you know.” He sucks in a ragged breath, and I’m bewitched that this gorgeous, confident man, who has half the football-loving world worshipping at his feet, is struggling to tell me something of earth-shattering importance.
“Ask me.”
He gives a tortured smile. “When you’re ready, will you think about moving to Madrid with me? I mean for you and me to live together. In the same apartment. Together,” he repeats, sounding slightly desperate, in case I don’t get it yet.
His face is blurry through my tears, but I don’t try and hold them back anymore.
“Yes.”
“Yes?” His grin lights up the room. “That’s fantastic. You didn’t make me get on my knees and grovel.”
“I don’t know. I think what you did yesterdayon cameracounts as abitof a grovel. It was very elegant.”
