She smoothed her hands down her thighs and finally turned to Millie and Beatrix. “Well?” she said, her voice laden with both hope and nerves.
Millie’s face broke into a wide smile. “It’s perfect.”
Beatrix, whose poker face was for shit, grinned. “Brilliant.”
A tiny bit more confident, she picked up her purse from the table and laced it over her shoulder.
“Robert is ready to brief you,” Millie said.
Ele nodded. Today would be a feat. Allowing herself to get caught up in her wardrobe had taken her mind off the game and her responsibilities after the game. It’d also allowed her to pretend that her last glimpse of Tristan wouldn’t be when she either congratulated or consoled him. Curfews and schedules wreaked havoc on their plans to see each other again. The ache of his departure from her life threatened, but she chose to focus on today. If she didn’t get a chance to say a proper good-bye, at least her last memory of him would be of him doing what he loved.
Caption that.
She stepped into the sitting room, the one with the love seat, two chairs, and an oval coffee table. This little room had been her home for the last four weeks. The love seat was brand-new, probably purchased right before their arrival so they would only have good things to say about it. But the flower patterns along with the solid chairs were just a bit off. Still, she would miss this room and the time she’d spent in it.
Robert stood by the chair. His eyes widened when he saw her, and she knew by the way he rolled the side of his lips between his teeth that he was holding back a smile.
“Okay?” she couldn’t help asking.
Probably noticing her need for reinforcement, Robert judiciously allowed his smile to spread across his face. Immediately, every taut nerve in her body eased. Robert possessed a far better stoic expression than anyone, even the queen.
He gave her a thumbs-up.
Robert ran Ele through the expectations for the stadium and the postgame ceremony. Then, because the game allowed them enough time to take an overnight flight home, they were scheduled to depart Chicago. When Ele and Robert concluded their briefing, there was a flurry of activity as the royal entourage packed everything. Ele returned to the bedroom and sat with Millie as she folded, sorted, and packed.
“What shall I do with this?” Millie asked, holding up the Cubs hat Ele had worn on her royal day off.
Ele grinned at the hat as Millie placed it in her hand. She ran her hand along the brim, remembering snippets of the day with Tristan. She didn’t want to part with the hat. She was about to shove it into the suitcase when she thought better of it. There wasn’t any token she could give to Tristan as a memento of their time together. He had one picture on his phone. Anything of hers would be conspicuous. But only she, Tristan, Robert, Millie, and Michael knew about the hat.
She went to the desk, tucked into the corner of the sitting room. She sat down, pulled out a piece of paper, and began to write. When she was done, she moved into the kitchenette and rummaged around for a bag. She located a discarded brown paper bag under the sink. Placing the hat and note in the bottom, she rolled the top down and folded it over.
“Robert,” she said as she came back into the sitting room, “can you see that he gets this?”
Their eyes met—hers heavy with a plea, his light with a promise.
“Of course, ma’am.” He took the bag from her and turned to leave the suite. “Five minutes.”
Ele nodded.
The next few hours flew. The drive to the stadium, the entry from the depths of the underground parking garage and through the corridors under the street, and finally into the royal box. The photo ops of her with the French prime minister. The carefully plotted seating arrangement that allowed Ele and Jean-Pierre Babbineaux maximum exposure to the crowd during the game. The sea of people surrounding them, already chanting and cheering. She should have been overwhelmed. But Juliana’s presence and Robert’s absolute attention to detail allowed her to be Princess Eleanor Ann-Juliet Josephine in a way she hadn’t been able to manage in over a decade.
It was the game. Her calm was edged with excitement for the match. She still didn’t understand offsides, and anytime two men went up for headers, her breath caught. But somewhere along the way, she’d caught football fever.
Next to her, Juliana practically vibrated in her seat. “This is so amazing.”
Ele didn’t even try to hide her smile. It was thrilling to be here. The atmosphere was electric. Seeing her country’s colors flying in the air as people waved scarves and flags filled her with pride. Then, the pageantry began. The two lines of players with their tiny child escorts walked onto the pitch. The flags were unfurled. When their anthem was announced, it seemed as if the whole stadium turned toward the royal box, honoring them. At the end of the song, both Juliana and Ele raised their hands and waved, prompting another roar. Then, suddenly, the game started.
And her calm fled. But it had nothing to do with her fear of being in public or the press. It was all about wanting to win. She wasn’t a competitor, but she didn’t want to have come this far and not win it all. It made the game more stressful than the rest. It also seemed to be the most competitive game they’d played. And at the end of the first period, they were deadlocked, zero to zero.
Millie slipped in behind Ele and tapped her on the shoulder. She leaned close and whispered, “You’re trending on social media.”
Ele’s eyes widened. “Uh, how?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s the jersey and maybe your complete attention on the game. When we almost scored, you jumped up, and people caught it. It’s kind of viral.”
Ele swallowed hard and pulled lightly on the collar of the shirt. Millie handed her the iPad, and Ele tucked it into her lap, inconspicuous. One perk of the life she led was there were very few candid photos of her. She managed to escape the wandering eye of the press, which meant there were no pictures floating in cyberspace or printed anywhere with black boxes covering parts of her body or the word don’t captioned above her. The other side was that she rarely saw herself through someone else’s lens. In just the last couple of weeks, she’d taken a picture with Annalise and with Tristan, but she’d been prepared for both of those. The finished product merely an immortalized memory from her head. The picture she stared down at though was anything but. In fact, she had no recollection of the fanatic who was clearly a fan, jumping out of her seat, a zealous look in her eyes. Then, the crushing defeat etched onto her face when the outcome she had cheered for didn’t come to pass.
A discreet chuckle drew her eye. Robert stood behind them, peering over her shoulder. Ele’s gaze met his, and he wiped all expression from his face but not before she read the amusement there.
“Made a football fan out of ya,” Robert said low.
But she heard the unspoken part too—the, Didn’t he?
She glanced up and she rolled her eyes. Robert smirked.
Then, he nodded his head to an open space at the top of the box. Ele stood and followed them.
“At the end of the game, we’ll take the elevator down to the field level. The stage will take twelve and a half minutes to assemble. There is a room right off the hallway where we will wait. Michael will lead you and Juliana out as part of the delegation. As we discussed, you will help with the presentation—win or lose.” He paused, letting Ele digest this part of the plan, which they’d reviewed on the way to the stadium earlier. Multiple verbal run-throughs helped.