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“It was so unlike him not attending the pre-season games this year with his usual words of encouragement. In the past, he always made a point of coming alongside Martha just to boost the team’s morale by expressing his utter faith in them. His absence was felt by all of us.”
“It’s been a hard year for him,” I try to defend Rex’s sudden apathy.
“I know.” Byrne sighs after getting up from his seat. “If my saint of a wife died so unexpectedly, I’m not sure I’d ever recover either.”
Unable to relate to such a sentiment, my brows pull even tighter on my forehead.
I can’t imagine becoming that emotionally destitute because of a woman, no matter how much I cared for her.
Seems like all love does is cripple the person they once were.
I see no benefit in it.
Only pain.
“Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it, Trent. I hope you have better news for Rex than I did.”
I watch Byrne leave my office in a worse state than the one he came in, making me wonder if he’s up to the club’s challenges that lie ahead.
I need a coach I can depend on. One that wants to win, no matter the sacrifice.
Not one that prefers to coddle the players after they’ve shit the bed.
Not wanting to entertain that thought, I stride over to my desk to retrieve my suit jacket. After ensuring that my appearance is thoroughly put together and polished once again, I head upstairs to Rex’s office.
The only reason why Rex could be calling me to see him so out of the blue must have something to do with Wilder and this shitstorm he’s put the club in.
That’s the only reason I can see for him not to have called me directly or come downstairs to see me.
He must be in one of his moods and doesn’t want anyone to see him at his worst.
As I pass my secretary’s desk, I hook my finger for Brigitte to follow me to the elevator.
“Before I get back, make sure that you find out when Nathan Wilder’s first therapy session is with Dr. Seymour. Once you have those details, I want you to book us a lunch at Étoile d’Or the very next week. That should give the good doctor enough time to gain insight into Wilder.”
Brigitte nods as she writes everything down in her trusty notepad.
“I also want to be kept in the loop of everything Wilder does. I want his full itinerary on my desk by the end of the day.”
“Yes, sir. Is there anything I should be on the lookout for regarding him?”
“Yes. If he so much as talks to a reporter, I need to know about it.”
“Of course, sir. I’m on it.”
“Good. Thank you.”
“Is there anything else you need from me, Mr. Nichols?” she asks once we reach the elevator doors.
A smirk tugs on my lips when a certain memory surfaces.
I don’t think I’ll ever look at an elevator again without thinking ofher.
“Actually, yes. There is one more thing you can do for me. I’d like you to send flowers to Piper Lee at ESA headquarters.”
“Flowers, sir?” Brigitte parrots in confusion.
“Yes. Send an arrangement of pale pink roses.” I smile, recalling the color of the many throw pillows Piper had decorating her home.
