Then Oliver crashed into it like a wrecking ball.
Now my days feel brighter. Louder. Funnier.
I laugh more.
I sleep better.
I find myself looking forward to things.
And if that's terrifying, it's also the most exhilarating thing I've ever experienced.
“Hey you,” Luke says, tapping my open office door. “Brought you coffee.”
“Oh, bless you.”
“What are you working on?” he asks, sinking down into the chair across from my desk.
“Finalizing the holiday hospital visit tomorrow,” I say, looking down at the logistics document on my desk. A spreadsheet full of names, times, and a thousand tiny things I need to make sure go exactly according to plan.
“Keep Carlos away from the nurses,” Luke warns me.
“Oh, good call.” I laugh, already picturing it. “Thanks.”
“What are you doing for Christmas, Ads?”
“Same thing I do every year. Sweatpants, takeout, and movies,” I say, without looking up.
“But it’s Christmas.”
“It’s how it’s always been.” I shrug. “Even when I was with Matt, he was always off covering something. I don’t think we ever spent a Christmas together. And growing up, my parents traveled a lot for work. I had more Christmases in hotels than I did at home. My friends used to think that was so cool, likeHome Alone 2, you know? They had this big city, fancy hotel room vision. But it wasn’t like that at all.” I shake my head. “It was just being alone in a different zip code.”
“That’s just depressing, Ads.”
“Yup.” I laugh, but my chest aches. “It’s tradition.”
“Come over,” he says. “We’re staying in London since we’ve got the match on Boxing Day. The whole family will be there.”
I smile. “That’s really nice, Luke. I’m not going to third-wheel your Christmas.”
“Ads, come on. You’re our family.”
“I know, Luke,” I say, and I mean it. “But I’ll be fine. I promise.”
“Alright, but if you change your mind…”
“I know where you live.”
He doesn’t push. He just gives me a nod and that steady, reassuring Luke look before heading out.
And I sit there in my office, wondering how it’s possible to be so full of someone one second and so hollow the next.
I follow Alan down to the lobby of the training grounds, running through last-minute details like a soldier going over battle plans before a commander heads to the front.
Except in this case, Alan’s “front” is a luxury resort in the Maldives, and his battlefield will be deciding whether to have a piña colada or a mojito before lunch.
“You’re a wonder, Addison,” Alan says, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “I’m not sure how I ever got on without you. I can actually leave the country knowing the club won’t go down in flames in my absence.”
I laugh. “You put a lot of faith in me, Alan.”
