12. Chapter 12
Ames
I panic. I tell him I don't know what I want to do about the call and run for the exit.
It will only buy me a short time, but I will gladly take it.
Now I'm back in the condo, the weight of the last few hours chained to my ankle.
The heavy, dark metal ball drags behind me as I make my way to the kitchen.
It's the only room with a light on that I can see, and the sweet smell in the air hints that Saint has been busy baking.
I don't know what will happen next. I need a deep, calming breath, before I face Saint again. All I can manage is a shallow puff of air. It's enough to get Saint's eyes on me… and Pablo's.
Time stands still. My brother leans against the kitchen counter, a glass in his hand with ice and an inch of an amber liquid.
His life in Canada means I don't see him as often as I'd like, and I make a photograph of him in my mind. This moment— straight to my heart.
His visit is unexpected. A little disorienting but so, so welcome .
I drink in his presence. His short dark hair, thick eyebrows, and straight nose that's a tiny bit too long. He's trim around the torso and long-limbed. His brown eyes are as warm as always, too. They never fail to make me feel safe.
I don't notice the tears that fill my eyes until one falls down my face. "We texted two hours ago. You didn't say anything!"
The memory of him standing in Saint's kitchen will be with me for a long time. Him and Saint, gazing at me with expectant eyes and soft smiles.
Pablo chuckles, leaves his glass on the stone countertop, and comes to me with open arms. "It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you, right?"
I step into his hug and squeeze. He squeezes me right back. My brother is one of my favorite people. Often, he's the only person I think of as family. When our parents divorced, we clung to each other. It has tied us together, and having him here only strengthens the bond.
"Did you know?" I ask in Saint's direction from Pablo's arms.
The football player shakes his head. "I heard less than an hour ago."
"You make it sound like I did something bad.
" Pablo lets me go and we sit at the kitchen island.
He takes his glass back in his hand, and talks to Saint.
"First of all, I didn't know I'd be able to make it until two hours ago myself.
I crossed my fingers that whatever you had planned, it could be rescheduled, but you know I offered to get the code and let myself in so I could surprise Ames. "
"You bribed me with dinner, too." Saint points a thumb to the oven behind him. "We were keeping it warm, and I baked us dessert while we waited."
"Should we have dinner?" Pablo rubs my shoulder. "The three of us, like we used to in college sometimes?"
It doesn't take us long to whip up a quick salad to go with the lasagna in the oven. Saint puts a tray full of his baked goods on the table as well. He promises the cinnamon sugar muffins are filled with a hazelnut-chocolate paste that I will love.
At first, Pablo jokes with us about the adventure he went through trying to make it here to see me— see Saint and I. I'm smiling more than I have in a long time. But some of this conversation will be hard, and I'm proven right when my brother gives me a long, thoughtful stare.
"I'm glad you're not doing as poorly as I imagined," he says.
I glance at Saint. "Gael has been a great friend and that has helped, but… well. I'm not as devastated as I thought I'd be."
The words pull an embarrassed feeling from deep in my belly. The warm wave builds and crashes on my face, until I'm sure I've blushed.
"What do you mean?" Pablo asks.
A big gulp of water serves as my escape. Saint's gaze is locked on me. He's taken a break from eating, it seems. Like he's had enough for now, or he finds it too distracting when he doesn't want to miss a single word.
I cast my eyes down again. They land on delicious, creamy lasagna, but the need to eat is subdued. I don't want to hide from my brother, and Saint deserves to know, too.
I sigh. "I was with Aidan for years. We planned a future together.
I should be crying in the corners for him every day but, no.
I've only cried eight times. In a month.
And my mind is on my business more than anything and— I'm very aware I'm being self-centered.
Saint is going through a lot— not only did I parachute into his life and interrupt it, but with the possible trade and everything, I haven't even asked about any of it—"
Belatedly, I see Pablo staring at Saint in shock.
"Shit." I bite my lip. "I thought he would know. I'm sorry, Saint."
"I'm not publicizing it," he says, "since I'm hoping to stay. But I should have told you, Pablo."
"One big change at a time, please," Pablo says. He points at Saint with a finger. "What the hell is happening?"
Saint nods. "We're talking about Ames' situation." He turns to me. "You get to be self-centered when your life changes so much. "
"Wouldn't your life change, too?" Pablo arches an eyebrow at Saint. "A trade means moving, starting over with a new team, redefining your career… with new contract negotiations, new rankings, new team and front office dynamics…"
"You would have to move?" I ask.
The ball and chain tied to my ankle had almost disappeared, but now doubles in size. It pulls from my insides, too, somehow. Saint had told me he would have answers after the championship game, which gives us a couple more months, but I hadn't realized what it truly meant until this moment.
Saint might end up somewhere else. He might move away, just like Pablo did. Another person I might lose.
An ache takes hold of my breastbone. It latches on and constricts my airways for good measure.
This is more in line with the kind of pain I expected to feel over Aidan.
Saint nods. "I could retire if I wanted to and stay here. Money isn't the problem, but I'm not ready to give up on my career. I want rings, what can I say? Just know, Ames, if you still need a place to stay, I plan to keep this condo. You won't be left without a home."
"I'm not asking because I'm worried about where I'll stay. Which isn't to say I'm not—"
"You can stay here," Saint repeats.
"— but I didn't realize you might have to leave. Ridiculous, I know."
The last few words come out quiet. Shame weighs them down, trapping them in my lungs and tempering with my vocal cords.
I take a slow breath, trying to tame the discomfort. Not to placate him or pretend I haven't made mistakes, but to see the lessons clearly.
The situation with Aidan is teaching me I may not know how to make relationships work.
That being the Perfect Girlfriend is not only insufficient, but it's unrealistic.
I supported all of his career moves, didn't make a fuss about how distant we felt at times, and I took every chance I had to show him I wanted him to be happy.
It didn't help. Meanwhile, I'm also learning things from living with Saint.
Attempting to be the Perfect Roommate, whatever that is, has to be just as unrealistic, but I should give something to him as a friend. Friendships are relationships, too.
"I'm sorry, Saint."
He shakes his head. "No need. I get it. You're in a shitty situation. With me, at least I know what I can do about it. Got to play better than ever and get that MVP. For you it's not so clear."
"Shouldn't it be clear?" My voice is critical of myself. "Shouldn't I know what to do about my business? And with Aidan, well, I—"
Losing my train of thought isn't out of confusion in that regard. It's more about the way my thoughts stumble together. My feelings for Aidan trip me up. What he did makes me feel like I regressed a decade in knowing what I want out of my life. And I hate that his actions have that power over me.
"What about Aidan?" Saint gazes at me with renewed intensity.
Of course he's wondering. Aidan just called me, and Saint watched me panic. Not to mention how my things are still in my ex's condo. Saint called him a coward once, and I hope he never ends up thinking the same of me.
Pablo studies me with a frown. He's jumping to conclusions, while the thoughts and ideas multiply in my mind. I'm slow to react.
"You're thinking of fixing it with Aidan?" Pablo takes turns gazing from me to Saint. "You two. In how many ways do you plan to surprise me tonight?"
"You did it first." Saint's dimples pop. "Surprising us, that is."
I hadn't realized it's been a while since I last saw those cute smiling dips.
Am I making him unhappy? Ugh. He keeps reassuring me, telling me he's fine with me being here, but moments like this make me worry he's not being totally honest.
I have so much work to do. Until then, I'll find ways to be a better friend.
I press my lips together. "I'm focused on fixing my business. That way I can get out of Saint's hair and find my own place. "
Saint shakes his head, in a convincing show of irritation that I made another reference to being in his way.
Before I can respond to it, Pablo looks seriously at me.
"But what about Aidan? Are you… going back? I know it's not the most modern thing, but I wouldn't judge you. Repairing a relationship is such a brave thing that not everyone does. You've been together for a long time, and if you wanted to do it…"
He lets the thought fade. I know he's trying to be supportive, telling me he would accept whatever I want. Somewhere inside, I suspect his question comes from the hurt each of us carries from when our parents divorced. Fixing things can be the bravest thing, sometimes.
But making things better with someone who wronged you isn't how I'm trying to be different from my parents.
I take a deep breath. "He called me today. I couldn't face talking to him, because I was afraid of what I would do. What if he only wants to give me excuses? What if he wants me to forgive him?"
Pablo and Saint pay such close attention, I doubt they're breathing.