I shook my head.
There was too much to do this morning, I couldn’t allow myself to think of her. Of last night. It always started the same way. I’d recall something remotely related to her, and then I’d be summoning all sorts of other things.
Like those bloody overalls. They’d been so tight, making her look… Different. Homey. Inviting. Almost relaxed, for a change. Even with all those curves snug and confined. Ready to burst under the seams. Or my hands. They made me wish she would burn all her clothes and exclusively wear the goddamn things from now on.
My phone rang from the kitchen counter, snapping me out of that dangerous train of thought.
I stalked to the device and scanned the screen.
Liam.
I accepted the call. “What.”
“Wow,” he huffed. “Well, morning to you, too, sunshine.”
I rolled my eyes. “I fired you. Why are you calling me again?”
“You didn’t fire me,” he countered in that smug tone I knew so well. “You encouraged me to resign. And most would appreciate the fact that our friendship is transcending a terminated business relationship.”
I held the phone to my ear with a shoulder and served myself a second cup of coffee from the pot. “You were my agent, you were never my friend.”
“God, I’d forgotten you’re a prick,” Liam said with a breath. “But I love you anyway, so I’m going to pretend you didn’t disregard fifteen years of friendship.”
“Don’t pretend to miss me.” I brought my mug to my lips and took a long sip. “We both know I was a nightmare to work with.”
“Christ. You’re in some mood today, mate.”
I returned the device to my hand and crossed the living room area to the glass doors facing the front yard. “Maybe I am,” I admitted, looking out and taking in the beautiful expanse of green before me. My gaze somehow ended on the shabby cabin to the right. I wondered if she was awake. What she would wear today. If her hair would be up or down on her shoulders. Lately she’d let it down and I—Fuck. “What do you want, Liam?”
“Would you believe me if I said I called to check on you?”
“No.”
“That’s what I thought. It’d take a miracle for you to talk about your feelings anyway.” A calculated pause. “How are my favorite girls doing, then? Ditched you yet?”
As if summoned by the man who’d been in my life for almost two decades, Pierogi climbed on the patio banister. She stretched her paws and laid on top of it, turning into an orange ball of fluff. “Pierogi’s good. Napping half the time like she always does. And Willow…” I recalled the state of the kitchen floor. “Willow is still bitching at me every chance she gets. She hates it here.”
Liam’s chuckle came through the line. “That’s my best gal.”
“Far from it,” I muttered.
A long pause followed. One that gave away the real purpose of the call. I knew my former agent like I knew the palm of my hand. I gave him shit because he gave me shit in return, but the truth is that we were like brothers. We’d risen together to the top, and he’d been loyal and honest to a fault. Letting go of him hadn’t been easy. But I’d had no use for him after hanging up the gloves, and he’d known exactly why. That was why he insisted on checking up on me.
“Listen,” Liam said, just like I knew he would. “I know you’re still processing where you stand with this, but let me stress once more how great of an opportunity this is. The channel—”
I laughed, bringing his words to a stop. “I’m not processing. I know where I stand. That’s why when you called the other day I asked you to kindly pass along my answer to RBC Sports.”
“A ‘fuck off’ is not something you kindly pass along, Caldani. Specifically not to RBC Sports.”
“Translate it into your language, then.” I took another sip of my coffee, trying to focus on the smooth bitterness, and not on the way my stomach was tying up in knots. “Say it in some pretty way they’d like.”
“Cameron,” Liam warned, all lightness gone from his voice. “I know you’re a giant twat.” I snorted. “But I never had you for a fool.”
And that’s why I signed with him when we were nothing but nobodies with big dreams. Liam never tiptoed around anything or anyone, he said it like it is.
When I wasn’t called up for the national team, he sat me down and told me to suck it up and move on. I was too old and there was younger and fresher meat. And when the smartest thing to do had been to pack up and sign for an MLS team, he’d never tried to sell me on the idea like it was some great plan to make me the legend I’d never be. He’d told me to move to L.A. and have one last hurrah. Make the contacts, take the cash, and get a break from the Premier League’s politics I’d never had an interest in.