Chapter 11

 

 

Elena found her bed and didn't leave her room for more than two days. She couldn't. She had a man that cared about her, that could have showed her the world and now he didn't want her. He didn't even have a good reason for leaving her.

Elena knew what he was trying to say—that he didn't want her to see him lose his house, and all of his money, and that he'd end up drinking and going into a deep depression. But she didn't care, because she didn't want to lose him.

After leaving Tripp and emptying her house out, Diego was all she had. It seemed her career was in the tank, especially now, and if she had to walk away from him, she'd have to start all over again. Besides, there were legitimate things they could do to stop the girls from ruining his career, or at least get something out of this whole fiasco. They could call the police and send Maricela to jail, he could sue the team. He didn't have to give up.

But he was giving up, on her career, and on her.

Elena kept the covers over her head and closed her eyes as much as she could. She didn't want to see the light, or have to look out the window, because she knew that if she did she would be reminded of the fact that she was living in a world without Diego.

On the third day, she woke up at 5 in the morning and ordered room service. She didn't want to eat, or spend the money, but she needed something. She was so hungry that her stomach was threatening to cave in, and regardless of how hard she tried, she couldn't ignore that basic instinct.

When the food came, it was greasy and cheap. There was too much and it just reminded her of the beautiful dinner he served her out on the beach. She ended up eating a few bites and letting the rest rot while she cried.

That was the first time she actually cried about it. It didn't feel right. Crying was something people did for relief. It relieved the tension, but she didn't want to feel better. She wanted it to hurt, because the better she felt, the closer she got to getting over Diego.

Elena laid back down, closed her eyes and tried to retreat into the darkness, but she couldn't sleep and the vibrating sound wouldn't stop. She didn't want to get up, but she did. She reached for her phone sitting on the coffee table and answered it.

“What?”

“Hi, I'm trying to reach Elena Matthews.” It was a businesswoman.

“This is she.”

“Hi, Elena. My name is Francine Hopkins and I'm calling on behalf of George Marcus, the owner of the Ocean Hawks.”             

“Yes?” She sat down on the couch.

“He'd like to thank you for your assistance with the issue involving Maricela, and to apologize for the way his son Chance treated you.”

“Really?” She jumped up.

“Chance is no longer with us, and we need somebody to take the up the position as head of PR. If you'd like you can come in and sign the paperwork this afternoon.”

“What about Diego?”

“His contract will continue as planned.”

“I'll be there in less than an hour.”

When Elena got there, Francine, a flawless blond with perfectly straight hair whisked Elena to her office and they took hours, forcing her to sign document after document of meaningless crap. She didn't read a word of it. They rushed her too quickly. All she could think about was finding Diego as soon as she could.

Elena was shivering in the cold sea air when she walked up to Diego's mansion, unsure of how she would be received. She didn't want anything but the man that she loved holding her in his arms. She loved him. She hadn’t known whether or not she did, until she had seen him in the car outside the hotel and he put her out of his life, and broke her heart.

She had to lose him to know for certain. Now she was putting herself on the line, walking up to his porch with her arms crossed, shivering. They didn't tell him yet, at least she didn't think so. She only left the arena half an hour ago, and they were so busy with her that they said they might not get to him until the morning.

So he would probably want her to leave. He might not let her tell him what happened. Maybe he would be drunk and belligerent again. He might not even answer the door.

She knocked anyway and waited. Nothing happened. There were no footsteps or voices. So she knocked again and waited. Nothing.

Elena could walk back to her car and wait. Maybe when they told him he would call her, but he might not. He broke up with her. He might want to move on. Maybe he'd get scared and things would get weird. Too many things could go wrong. So Elena waited and knocked again.

Nothing.

She turned around to walk away. Then the sound of the door creaking open stopped her. His face was red and puffy, but his eyes were sharp. He was sober, but he was still upset. They looked at one another, and the tension passed between them. That's when she saw the remorse in his eyes, and she knew he didn't want to break up with her before. He did it for her sake.

“Diego, I—

He picked her up in his arms and carried her out onto the cushion outside on the veranda. She got a peek at the rain coming in from the coast. Then she lost herself, his kisses raining down on her, enveloping her in sweet moisture that wrapped around her when he pulled her up. “I love you, Elena, but I don't know how things are going to turn out. Without football, I'm nothing.”

“The owner's secretary called me this morning. He fired Chance, brought you back and now he's hiring me to be the head of PR.”

“Jesus,” he jolted back. Then he kissed her and hopped up off the cushion. “You're gonna live here.”

“I am.”

“And we're gonna be together.”

“We are.”

“Whoo!” He howled in excitement.