Ashley was Raina’s personal assistant and kept notes on our progress, and while I liked her, I’d wanted to speak to Raina alone.
“Of course,” she said. “We can chat in my living room until Ashley gets here.” She motioned for me to follow, her fancy white flip-flops that probably cost more than one of my car payments shuffling on her shiny wooden floor. She was a stunning woman in her midfifties. Her shoulder-length black hair, dark eyes, and olive skin reminded me of one of my cousins. Thanks to my Irish/Scottish father, I burned more than I tanned and was always jealous of the sun-kissed glow most of my family enjoyed year-round.
Raina was classy and intelligent, but humble and down-to-earth. She hadn’t pulled any punches in the stories she’d told me, and I hadn’t picked up on a shred of arrogance despite her record-breaking stats—stats thatstillhadn’t been broken—throughout her soccer career.
It was such an honor to work with her, but my mother had been right. I was burning out and so homesick it seeped into my bones. I was trying to find a professional way to articulate that I wanted to cut my trip short because I missed my mother,boyfriend, and my boyfriend’s niece terribly and just wanted to go home—or at the very least, be able to ask for a few days off.
“Anything wrong?”
“No. Well, not wrong. Depending on what we decide tonight, I’d like to have some time off. I’d planned to go home a weekend here and there, but between the hours we’ve been putting in, plus the manuscripts I’d already committed to working on, I haven’t had the chance to step away. I know this is an open-ended type of assignment, but either way, I’d like to take a long weekend to go back to New York as soon as it’s feasible.”
Raina leaned back in her chair.
“Why didn’t you bring this up before? I’m surprised you haven’t asked for time off earlier.”
“We were in the thick of everything, and I didn’t want to go home when I’d have work to catch up on anyway and couldn’t spend time with anyone.”
A smile curved her lips. “Spending time with the people you love is important. We never really chatted about your personal life. The article mentioned that you were single, but I should have asked.”
“It’s fine. I’ve been immersed in your fascinating life story and didn’t offer anything about my personal life.”
“I see.” She smiled. “So, there’s someone special waiting for you to head back home?”
“There is.”
She arched a brow. “They must be very special to make you smile like that. Have you been together for long?”
“He was my high school boyfriend. We broke up—well, he broke up with me before I left to attend school in Maine. We reconnected at our high school reunion.”
“You had one of those too,” she said, a wistful smile playing on her lips.
“One of those?”
“I had a boyfriend I was madly in love with before I earned a soccer scholarship for college. Playing professionally had been my dream since I’d first kicked a soccer ball, so I’d been laser-focused on it since I was a kid. Boyfriends didn’t factor into it. I broke up with him before I left, making sure I cut all ties so I wouldn’t be tempted to change my mind.”
“I’m guessing you never saw him again?”
Raina had gotten personal in her memoir, but the timeline started the first year she’d played pro. We hadn’t included anything about her past before that, other than her being the daughter of immigrants and the first in her family to earn a college degree.
“I did. I ran into him one evening with his wife and children. Our hellos were more sad than awkward. It was strange. I’d written off any feelings I’d had back then as teenage infatuation, but it all came back again when I saw him. I think I felt a little spark from him too, but it was too late.” Her gaze drifted outside to the beach and waves of the Pacific Ocean in the distance.
“I’m sorry.”
She shrugged. “I’m glad he’s happy with his family. Life happens how it happens. Even with all the struggles, I knew I was meant for this. Similar to how you figured out early on that you weren’t.”
“Makes sense.” I relaxed at her warm smile.
“When Ashley gets here, we’ll sort everything out for you to work remotely from now on. I can’t promise I won’t ask you to come back once or twice, but I don’t see why you can’t work on what we have from home.”
I jerked back against the cushion. “Are you sure? I’m committed to this project and want to see it through?—”
“You have.” She reached over to pat my hand. “You’ve been wonderful. I’ve shared all I planned to, and now we just need to make it readable. I’m sure that’s very doable via email, likehow you handle your other clients. We’ll discuss how to set everything up tonight, and you can head home this weekend.”
“Thank you. As long as you’re sure?—”
I was cut off by the musical chime of the doorbell.
“It sounds like when you decided not to make soccer your career, you didn’t waste any time with next steps. Don’t do that now. It’s a blessing to know what you want at the same time you’re able to grab it.”
