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I press my forehead against hers, and it takes everything in me not to pull her into my arms and kiss her.
“I'm not answering that,” she says, breaking away—and breaking my heart into a million pieces.
I suck in a gulp of air that makes me dizzy. “Why not?”
“Because,” she says, closing her eyes. “I don't want you to make such an important career decision based on my answer. You need to sort this out on your own.”
“Roxy . . .” I caress her cheek, but she pushes my hand away. It feels like someone just plunged a sword into my back. She’s rejecting me.
“Your career is the most important thing in your life, Wade. You told me it was your dream to play for a Spanish club. I don’t want to be the one who takes that away from you. I don’t want you to regret your decision. You’ve worked so hard for this, and you’re an amazing player.” She sighs. “Don’t make a decision on my account. We’ve known each other for barely two months, and we were faking it for most of that time.”
“We haven’t been pretending for a long time, Roxy.”
“I know that, but it’s still recent. We don’t know where this relationship will take us. On the other hand, football has been your life for ten years. You can’t just throw that away.”
I swallow the dry lump in my throat, trying to recover from her words. “Fine. It’s settled, then.” I take a step back, my eyes on the pavement. “Bye, Roxy.”
I blink back the tears that prick my eyes as I march toward my car, not daring to look back. I know she’s right. My career is important, but I wished she would have begged me not to go. Told me that she loves me so much, she can’t bear the idea of me moving away. Because that’s precisely how I feel about her.
Roxy
I wish I could have been more selfish. I wish I’d begged him to stay, told him I love him so much it hurts. But that’s exactly why I didn’t tell him. And it was the right choice. I would never forgive myself if I’d convinced him to give up his dream for me.
The whole weekend, I didn’t leave my flat. Empty tissue boxes and ice cream tubs littered my living room. On Monday, I went to work looking like a zombie, which earned me pity looks from my coworkers. By now, the rumour has taken root. And everyone feels sorry for the girl who just got dumped by the famous footballer.
Lina tries to cheer me up, but it’s no use. The only thing that even remotely works is writing and editing. So, that’s what I do all week. I force a smile when I sign my new promotion contract, but that’s about it. On Thursday night, my dad comes over to my flat. He’s heard the news too, obviously.
“I’m sorry, pumpkin.” He shuffles into my flat with what smells like a homemade pie.
“Dad, you didn’t have to come all the way here,” I groan, even though I’m always happy to see him.
“It’s a half-hour tube ride, Roxy. You haven’t answered my calls or texts, so you left me no choice.” He takes a seat at the dining table and beckons me to sit across from him.
“Sorry. I just needed some time alone.”
“I know, pumpkin. Did something else happen? I mean, besides his possible transfer. Because he’s a hell of a good player, but I will still kick his arse if he messed with my little girl.” Dad bangs his fist on the table, but he’s never managed to make that move look scary. God knows he’s tried, especially when Liam and I were kids, but he’s just too much of a teddy bear.
I can’t help but smile. “Nothing else happened, Dad. He didn’t do anything.” Which is true. I’m the one who smashed both of our hearts by refusing to tell him how I feel.
“Good. Because I kind of liked the bloke.”
“He asked me if I loved him.” I blurt, and I’m not exactly sure why. Maybe I just needed to say it out loud.
Dad does a double take, his head jerking back an inch. “What?”
“He asked, and I didn’t answer. I don’t want to hold him back. You think it would be a good move for him, Madrid?”
He strokes his chin, looking away. “Maybe. I don’t know. I might be biased because I always like to see our English boys play here. But there’s always the National Team, and it is important for players to have an assortment of club experiences. Real Madrid is a spectacular team.”
“I know. That’s what I told him.” I bite my lip to keep it from trembling, my eyes lowered. The last thing I need is to see the pain in my Dad’s face because he saw me cry.
“Did you know he sent over signed kits for my players? They were thrilled. That boy has a kind heart.”
I’ve known that since the day I met him, when he saved me from humiliation. “How does that help, Dad?”
He scratches his beard. “Right,” he groans. “Sorry. I suppose it doesn’t. But this will pass, pumpkin. Trust me. A broken heart can heal.”
Pushing up from the table, he takes a few steps toward me, and I join him.
