more he thought about it, the more impossible it seemed, the more panicked he felt. There had to be a way. Other Australians lived and worked in the U.S., right?
Putting the brakes on his escalating panic, he dragged in a couple of deep, calming breaths. He was going to figure this out if it killed him.
It hit him then. Mitch. Of course.
Mitch would know this stuff. He might be an Australian agent, but he’d probably dealt with clients who went overseas to play their chosen sport. He probably had experience and contacts. Maybe he’d even know of someone or a company or a brand that might be willing to sponsor Cole so he could stay in the States.
The pain subsided again just as the drink arrived, and Cole took a sip this time as he dragged his phone out of his back pocket and hit the last number in his missed calls. It was six a.m. back home, and ordinarily Cole might’ve waited until a more reasonable hour, but this couldn’t wait. The call went to voice mail.
“This is Cole. Call me,” he said before hanging up.
He imagined Mitch would probably see a missed called from Cole and call back without checking the message. His agent was desperate for Cole’s answer regarding the sportscaster job, so he wouldn’t mess around. As he was about to place the phone on the table, it started to buzz. Expecting it to be Mitch, Cole was surprised to not recognize the number. But maybe it was Mitch ringing on another number?
“Hello, Mitch?”
“No. It’s Doug Swan. Is that you, Cole?”
Doug Swan. The chief executive of the Australian rugby board? “Ah…yes?” He vaguely remembered Swan coming to visit him in the hospital not long after his accident. “Is everything okay?”
The top dog didn’t call just to say hi. The only reason he called was to congratulate someone for a huge achievement or to ream someone out for doing something stupid. As far as Cole was aware, he’d done nothing to deserve either.
“Yes. Just ringing about Ronan Dempsey. Griffin King tells me you’ve been very helpful. Do you have time to chat?”
Chat? Doug Swan was calling to shoot the breeze? “Um. Sure?”
Right now, while he waited for Mitch to get back to him, Cole had all the time in the world.
…
A week later, Jane stood in the middle of the red sitting room, looking all around her.
Everything was set for the magazine people to come tomorrow. The furniture had been reinstated by the same moving company from Denver who had moved the furniture out. The rich burgundy drapes, which she’d removed to polish the floors, had been rehung. The parquetry was a patchwork of glossy red tones. The chandelier sparkled like a crown.
The fireplace, with its newly laid surround of authentic nineteenth-century tiles—that had taken Jane two months to source—looked as good as the day it was first installed. In fact, the room looked like it was brand new. Like she’d stepped back in time and was seeing it as it had been back in its heyday.
And she’d done that.
Her effort and her toil and her passion for restoration had powered this project from start to finish, and it was better than she could have ever hoped. But the thrill she’d normally feel was missing, because the one person she really wanted to show it to wasn’t here.
His car was still parked outside, and his bag was still in his room, but he was conspicuously absent. When he hadn’t arrived by Friday, she’d started to worry that maybe he was dead in a ditch somewhere or had already left to go back home, but then he’d texted later that day to tell her he’d been in meetings all week and would be back in Credence sometime early next week.
Which was now this week.
She didn’t know what in meetings meant, but she assumed it had to do with the sportscaster job he’d been offered. Because surely he’d accepted the job by now. Maybe there were further negotiations and…other stuff to sort out first. But in that case, why hadn’t he just flown home for them? The job was starting next week.
Jane hadn’t bothered to answer what was clearly a duty text. It was obvious to her, watching the rugby game last week, that he’d already withdrawn from whatever the hell had been going on between them. Holed away in Credence, in this house, they’d been able to ignore the outside world, but in Denver, the reality of her