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It has to. He deserves to be happy too.
“He will do whatever is necessary to take care of his family,” I said.
Antoine regarded me a moment more, but I was unwavering. He blew air out his cheeks, shaking his head. “Very well. We’ll run it tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”
I eased a sigh where Antoine couldn’t hear it—and started to go.
“Mademoiselle Martin?” Antoine said.
“Oui?”
“It’s very good, this article.”
I waited for the pride to swell in me for the praise, but it was the story that needed to be told, and that’s all that mattered. And I decided, then and there, those were the only kinds of stories I would ever tell.
I want to stand on the big stage too, right next to Adrien Rousseau.
Adrien
Janey’s story came out on Wednesday morning. I read it in my flat, knowing that my teammates and family were reading it too. I didn’t expect anyone to be happy with me, so I shouldn’t have been surprised when Robert pounded on my door at the pension. He was my best friend and had been the only person who knew my father was alive and torn up by the war.
He stormed into my place, a copy of the paper in his hand.
“What the fuck, Adrien?”
“Good morning to you, too,” I said. “Coffee?”
He flapped the paper at me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“That you want to finish med school?”
I sighed, crossed my arms. “I have responsibilities to the team.”
“You think we can’t win without you? Is that it, you arrogant bastard?”
I was taken aback until I saw the glint of laughter in Robert’s eye.
“I know you can’t win without me,” I shot back, fighting my own smile. “In fact, you should let me play forward and tend goal. Just be safe.”
“Well, I would, except you got your ass red carded.”
“I’m sorry about that. And about the team dropping back to fourth.”
“Yeah, well, we’ve got to play the best game of our life and hope we have the points when it’s done. I hate to say it, but your goals this season might save our ass.” Robert raised a brow. “Tell me the truth. Did you do it to get thrown out of the game? Or did you do it for the girl?”
“Her name is Janey,” I said. “And the truth is…maybe a little of both.”
Robert nodded. He tossed the paper on my desk next to the anatomy textbook I had been poring over.
“I’d say I’d explain to the guys the situation, but I think this article did it for you. And I’m sorry if I added any pressure to you. All I can think about is football. I eat, sleep, live for it. It’s all I want. But it’s not all you want, is it?”
I shrugged. “It’s what I need.”
Robert nodded. “Come to La Cloche tonight. We’re still your family too, no?”
