When I got back to the sofa, fully intending to drink tea, eat cake and push any thoughts of Ryan away, then get back into my book. All that was scuppered when I saw a missed video call from him.
Shit.
I called back, wiping my mouth to get rid of any crumbs from that first mouthful of lemon cake, hoping I looked fairly okay. He answered on the second ring, looking freshly showered, hair still damp.
“You watched the game.” His smile beamed at me.
I nodded. “Your goals were amazing. You played so well – the commentators were gushing over you.”
The grin grew, and he pushed a hand through his hair, looking a little shy. “Yeah, we all had a good match. Rowan and Dee say hi, by the way. They’re crashing here tonight.”
I nodded. “How come?” It felt we’d only spoken a few hours ago, like we were just carrying on the conversation as if we were in each other’s lives continuously through the week, when in reality, that had never been the case.
“He’s got something going on at his new place that means it’s unliveable for a couple of days, and her boiler’s broke, so the house is freezing. Her nephew’s at Genny’s for a couple of nights, and they’re staying here. It’s like old times; they just don’t bicker as much.” He smiled again, but this time it didn’t reach his eyes. “How’s New York?”
“Cold. I’m ready to come home now. Nominations should be announced next week. If I’m not nominated, I can come home earlier. A few things in my schedule have been rearranged, so February’s pretty clear now. March onwards looks packed though.” For the first time, I wasn’t looking forward to a month off, followed by a frantic life for the next twelve months.
“But you’re back in England. That’s not changed?”
My heart sang. He sounded like he wanted me back.
“That’s not changed. Two films, one’s mainly being shot in Belfast and Ireland, and then London.”
“What’s the play again?”
I smiled. Ryan didn’t have a huge amount of literary knowledge, but he was genuinely interested. “A Doll’s House”, by Henrik Ibsen. We have a two-month run in October and November, and then we start again in mid-January for four months. The gap’s for panto season, so I’ll get time off over Christmas.”
“When the World Cup is.”
I nodded. “You’ll be somewhere hot and sunny.”
He groaned. “Too hot. Good for a holiday for you, though.”
Hope bloomed like a rose in my chest. Were these plans? But what about Lotte?
“Ryan, I hate to ask this but…”
“What? Just ask.” He rubbed his face. “I need to ask you something too.”
“Oh. Do you want to go first?” That flower started to wither.
He shook his head. “Ask what you wanted first.”
“Lotte. I saw a photo in the media of you and Lotte. Was she in Manchester?” It wasn’t quite the question I wanted to ask, but it would lead to finding out what I wanted to know.
He nodded. “She flew over to discuss the sale of the company – my shares anyway. We visited a solicitor’s office in Manchester to sign the papers.”
‘She’s bought you out?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I’m relieved actually.”
“You’re not back together?”
“No.” He laughed. “I don’t want to be with Lotte again. It only worked because of where we were both at – the business and me on youth contracts.” He shook his head, and I could tell there was more that he wasn’t saying.
“Okay, your turn. I’m sorry for being nosey.”
“Don’t be. My question’s similar, and I’ve wanted to ask for a while.”
