By His Play

47. Effie

47

EFFIE

T he rest of the week passes in a blur of meetings and conference calls. I’m chasing my tail having been away for so long, and I don’t like it.

I used to be on top of everything, know everyone and how they were helping KC Foundation. But right now, I feel like I’m swimming upstream and getting absolutely nowhere.

Jasmine has done a great job, there’s no doubt about that. But without her, it’s hard to figure everything out.

I haven’t been to see her yet; I’m not sure I’m ready to visit a hospital. I know that Grams was only ever in one for appointments, she was lucky really, but still, it’s going to bring it all back.

I tell myself that she’s got her family and friends around her, and that she doesn’t need to be reminded of work, or the fact I’ve been dragged off sabbatical because she’s in the hospital.

Shaking my head, I refuse to focus on those thoughts. They’re not helpful.

I’m trying really hard to fight through all the hardship.

Like the fact that all I want to do is pick up the phone and call the two most important people in my life.

But I can’t.

Neither will answer.

For very different reasons, of course, but it’s the same outcome.

I curl my legs beneath me as I lower my ass to the couch and stare out at the sunset with a mug of hot chocolate in my hands.

Chicago really is a beautiful city. Just like the day I returned, I feel like I’ve come home. There is just one massive thing missing.

Since I sent Kieran away, I haven’t heard a single thing from him.

His daily messages have stopped, adding to the grief I’m already battling.

I know that I’m the one who sent him away. This is my fault. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

The only thing that makes me forget is dancing.

I’m so glad I took a chance on that class.

And Thursday was even better. I wasn’t blindsided by my new partner; I wasn’t scared of putting myself out there and trying something new. I was able to just embrace it.

Now, I can’t wait until Monday night. Something tells me that those two hours of my week are going to be my favorite.

I glance at the clock. Seven p.m. on a Saturday night.

It’s not unusual for me to be home at this time. I’m not exactly a party animal. Kieran is the social butterfly of our friendship, especially in the off-season. He manages to find a party or an event to attend almost every night of the week. It’s how he picks up women—not that he has to try very hard.

My chest constricts and my stomach knots at the thought of him with someone else. It’s stupid. He’s probably been hooking up with supermodels and tying them to his bed since he first arrived back here.

He told you he didn’t do that with others , a little voice says, but I bat it away.

Just because he said it, doesn’t have to make it true.

He was on a mission to get me out of my head and make me happy. Who the hell knows how much of what he said was true?

For all I know, I was the worst lay of his life, and while I’m here regretting agreeing to our little deal because it’s fucked everything up, he’s regretting ever touching me because of how awful it was.

That’s not true and you know it.

“Fuck’s sake,” I mutter, chastising myself for getting lost in these kinds of thoughts.

Continuing to ignore the docuseries I selected to watch on the TV, I grab my cell and open Instagram.

The first picture that appears hits me like a bat to the chest.

Kieran is standing between his brothers with a killer smile on his face.

I glance at when it was posted.

An hour ago.

All the air rushes from my lungs as my eyes return to his.

Just like the two older Callahan men, his eyes sparkle with life and excitement.

All three of them are in tuxedoes, heading out for some fancy event.

Emotion crawls up my throat until my nose itches and my eyes burn.

I may not have often gone to an event with Kieran, but I always knew where he was going or what he was doing.

But tonight, I had no idea.

He looks so good. So…normal. And I’m here on the verge of tears over a freaking photograph.

Noticing that there are several photographs, I swipe through them in my quest to learn more.

To my relief, I don’t find any women. Just more suited men. When I hit the final image, I discover what’s happening.

They’re having a poker night.

They don’t happen all that often, maybe once or twice a year, but Kieran’s dad and a few associates organize them. And because the older generation are chauvinistic assholes, they’re always men only.

The servers who provide them with drinks and snacks, however, are a very different story.

Jealousy stirs deep within me.

Kieran has fucked them in the past. I doubt tonight will be any different.

Unable to stop myself, I click on his name, seeing as Kian has helpfully tagged him in the photograph, and find myself on Kieran’s profile for the first time since I left St. Louis.

It doesn’t matter that he hasn’t posted anything new; I scroll through like I’ve never seen it before.

My chest aches as I experience just a snapshot of his life.

As per my request, there are hardly any images or references to me on his account.

As much as I love him and am proud of the life he’s created for himself, I don’t want to be in the limelight. Something I really should have thought more about before telling Grams what I did.

I hover hesitantly over the symbol that will take me to his tagged posts. I already know the content that has been posted about me over the past few weeks, and it’s not good.

Liar.

Game player.

Betrayer.

Deceiver.

Unloyal.

Snake.

I’ve read it all. Every single toxic thing that journalists and the public combined said about me after the team’s publicist “accidentally” allowed part of the truth about our engagement to be released.

Kieran assured me it was an accident. That an intern sold what she thought would make the best story.

It’s plausible, sure. Kat, the team’s publicist, has never done something so underhanded before. She usually has the players and the team’s backs.

I hope it’s the truth. But really, it doesn’t matter. The story came out, and I very quickly became enemy number one amongst Kieran Callahan fans.

Not a place I ever thought I’d find myself. And certainly not a place I’d wish to be.

Reading it all again is the last thing I want to do, but I can’t stop myself.

Some of the posts have new comments, and each one cuts through my heart like a knife.

All of their words are lies. I never set out to play or hurt Kieran. I never wanted anything from him. Even the comments explaining how I was clearly hoping that by creating a fake engagement he’d realize he was madly in love with me and go through with it are a million years from the truth.

Kieran isn’t in love with me. I don’t have any wild fantasies of us running into the sunset together and living happily ever after.

I’m not aware that my cheeks are wet from crying until my buzzer rings through the apartment, dragging my attention from my cell.

A familiar mixture of grief, anger, disbelief, and frustration courses through my veins.

Swiping at my cheeks with the backs of my hands, I drop my cell to the couch and pad toward the front door to find out who it is.

My first thought is Brax. He’s been such a good friend this week. Honestly, I’m not sure I’d have survived without him.

He’s given me an outlet to talk. A safe space to just be me. It’s not quite like being with Kieran, but right now, it’s the closest I’m going to get.

Sucking in a deep breath in the hope I can hide my distress, I press the button and say hello.

“Hi, Effie. It’s Tate and Lori. Sorry to drop in unannounced, but are you free for a couple of guests?”

I glance down at myself and cringe.

Tatum and Lorelei are two of the city’s most beautiful women. I highly doubt they’re currently dressed in leggings, which may or may not have a hole at the crotch, and an old college sweater that has seen better days.

“O-oh, hey,” I say, unable to ignore them. “I’m not really dressed for visitors.” I cringe at myself.

“We’re not here for your outfit, Effie. We’re here for you.”

My heart slams against my ribs. Their words are a welcome reminder that while I might feel lonely, I’m not actually alone.

Feeling awful that I haven’t reached out to them, I press the button that will allow them entry to my building and the top floor.

“See you in a few, girl,” Lori sings before the line goes silent.

I stand there nervously for a few seconds, wondering if I should prioritize getting changed or tidying up.

In the end, I opt for a quick tidy.

If they’re as perceptive as I think they are, they’ll take one look in my eyes and know that I’m barely holding it together. My choice of clothing won’t matter.

I’m dumping a couple of abandoned mugs and glasses in my sink when voices fill my apartment.

With one last little pep talk, I go to greet them.

“Effie, it’s so good to see you,” Lori says, immediately pulling me into her arms and squeezing tight.

Tears burn red hot behind my eyes, but I force them to stay down.

Just as we part, a small noise erupts from behind her.

“Oh my gosh, look at you,” I breathe, taking in the changes to Prince since I last saw him. “Those cheeks.”

A wide smile pulls at my lips as Tate happily passes him to me.

“Oh, you are getting so big and so handsome,” I tell Prince as he smiles back at me. “How are you doing?”

With him safely in my arms, I walk him around my apartment, letting him look at everything.

My skin prickles at Tate and Lori’s attention, although not in a bad way, as I continue baby-talking to Prince.

Everything is fine until I point out the Chiefs Stadium in the distance and tell him that it’s where Uncle Kieran plays all his games.

My voice cracks on his name, and there’s no way they don’t hear it.

“We brought ingredients for cocktails,” Lori announces, and when I spin around, I find her unloading a bag of alcohol onto my kitchen counter. “Thought you might need it. Cosmos all around?”

“You got it,” Tate says as she walks around the couch with a bag of her own, although something tells me there isn’t alcohol in that one.

Ten minutes later, the three of us have freshly made cosmos, and Prince is happily playing on his interactive mat on the floor.

I met Tate when I was a teenager. Kieran brought me to a Callahan Enterprises event, and she was also there with her brother. We’ve always gotten on well, but we’ve never been close. And Lori? Well, she’s awesome.

They both are. They both have the confidence I wish I could possess. Hell, they’ve managed to claim themselves two of the most eligible bachelors in Chicago.

The fact they’re with the two older Callahan brothers does give us something in common. But still, the relationships they have with Kingston and Kian are very different from the one I have with Kieran.

“So,” Tate begins, making my heart race. “How are you?”

My lips part, ready to lie to them, when Lori jumps in.

“And we want the truth, Effie. No bullshit.”

My words fade away, and embarrassingly, tears take their place.