Page 84 of Lucky 22

A good wife.

I try not to fixate on the fact that to be those things, I’mbeing a lousy actress. I’m really beginning to believe that finding balance isjust a myth.

At least according to Hollywood’s standards.

But I’ll focus on that later.

For the next four weeks, everything is about gettingChristian better. He goes to rehab and has all kinds of therapy—ultrasoundtreatments for his side, heating, stretching, acupuncture, and anything elseneeded to stabilize his oblique.

But four weeks turn to five, and he’s still not cleared toplay. I don’t know how to feel about it.

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take, Ella Rose,”he says after another round of physical therapy. “It’s never taken this longfor me to get over an injury before. The team’s not playing well, and I know Ican help them. Something’s got to give.”

He’s pacing, and even though I can tell that he’s movingbetter, he’s still not moving as he did before the injuries. His hat’s onbackward, he’s a little unkempt, and it’s absolutely not the time to bethinking about how sexy he is, but I can’t help myself. His body needs to heal,but I still enjoy checking him out.

“You need to be patient,” I say, pushing my wayward thoughtsaside. “You need to trust what the therapists are doing so that when they doclear you to play, you know you’ll be going back at one hundred percent.”

He doesn’t look convinced.

“What did they say today? I’m sure you asked about when theythink you’ll be ready.”

When he doesn’t look at me, I know something’s wrong.

“Christian?”

“They say what they always say. ‘These things take time.’”Tossing his hat off, he lets out a huff of frustration. “I’m tired of hearingthat. I know my body, and I think I’m ready. I know I’m not one hundredpercent, but I still believe I can play and be an asset to my team.”

“Um…” I immediately snap my mouth shut. The last thing heneeds when he’s this worked up is me offering my two cents. Especially when Ialready know I agree with the therapists.

His head snaps around to look at me, his gaze narrowing.“What? Tell me what you’re thinking.”

My shoulders sag, and I can feel my face scrunching into afrown. “Okay. You have a history of ignoring the fact that you’re injured andthen playing through the pain. That’s why you’re in this position. I get thatyou’re frustrated and hate being on the injured list, but you have got tolisten to the professionals. You all dropped the ball with the concussion andlook where that got you. So, maybe trust that they’re being cautious with you.You’re not going to be any good to the team if you go back too soon and end upinjured again.”

I may as well have slapped his face because the look hegives me is one of utter disbelief.

Without a word, he walks away. His silence is palpable, andmaybe he just needs my support right now… Ugh, I feel terrible.

Or…do I?

Coddling him won’t help him in the long run. Right now, heneeds tough love. He needs someone to tell him no and that he can’t have hisway.

If only everyone in the Archers organization felt that way…

The next day, they clear Christian to play.

He is elated.

I’m miserable.

I call Tracy the following day when he leaves for thestadium and tell her to put me back on her schedule. She is positively giddybecause, as luck would have it, that major motion picture role hasn’t beencast.

There is still hope.

I didn’t make the call to be spiteful or because I need toget away from my husband for a few days because I am so stinking frustratedwith the situation, but I can see how it might look that way to other people.

I just choose not to think about it.

It’s just time for life to get back to normal. Totry to find some balance. And my career needs my attention, too.