Her computer rang with Millie’s Skype call. Ele stationed herself in front of the tablet and waited.
“Good morning,” Millie said finally.
Ele smiled at her friend. “Good afternoon. Have you had a busy day thus far?”
Millie looked a little frazzled. The first couple of weeks after Ele’s departure, worry had shadowed Millie’s countenance, but gradually, much like Ele’s fears, it was gently giving way to a more put-together assistant.
Millie bit down on her lip and then grimaced. “I still haven’t been able to figure out where Robert is.” It was the way they began every conversation.
Ele had come to a realization two days after she left home. She’d been reluctant to give voice to it, like saying it would make it true. But at Millie’s disheartened expression, Ele found she couldn’t hold back any longer. “Mil, if you can’t find Robert, it’s because he doesn’t want to be found.”
A pang swept through her. Goodness, that hurts to admit.
Millie blinked. “I know.”
“You just didn’t want to say anything?”
“Right. I hate disappointing you.”
“Yes, well, you can’t disappoint me more than Robert’s disappearing act.”
“Ele.” Millie rarely called her by her name. As close as they were, duty trumped familiarity. “If Robert doesn’t want to be found, it’s because he thinks it’s best for you. That man has always put you first.”
Isn’t that the truth?
Her eyes filled with unshed tears. She missed Robert. But she knew the truth of Millie’s words. Placing a hand under each of her eyes, she held back the tears with her fingers and force of will. If Robert’s defection was deliberate, did that mean he was gone from her forever?
Millie straightened on the other side of the connection. “Is your hair purple?” she asked in disbelief.
Glancing away from the tablet, Ele shrugged sheepishly. “Just the ends.”
She’d chopped several inches off her hair, and then, on a whim she couldn’t explain in retrospect, she’d dyed the ends purple. The shortened hair tended toward beachy waves, and Ele had a hard time reconciling the woman she was becoming with the one she’d been.
“I thought the helix piercing was enough,” Millie muttered.
Ele giggled and then slapped her hand over her mouth. But she knew her eyes were dancing with mirth because, when her gaze met Millie’s, her friend began to laugh. The piercing had hurt like the dickens and was still a bit tender. Her index finger nudged the jeweled red stud, testing its sensitivity, and she winced only a little. Her ear had become her own cheesy metaphor for her heart. The sharp bite of pain from the puncture of the needle had wounded her, making her suck in air and breathe deeply through it. And that first night, she could hardly stand to touch it. But each day, the pain receded a little. She knew there would come a day when it would cease to hurt, but the jewelry would always stay there, reminding her of what had been.
Who knew a vacation from princessing would turn her into a melodramatic sap?
When their laughter ceased, Millie got serious again. “I have some other news.”
“Bad?”
“No. But I’m reluctant to tell you because I’m not sure if my theory is right or if I’m completely off base. And I wasn’t going to say anything to you at all, but then I had an interesting conversation with the prince, and I thought maybe I wasn’t so crazy.”
“Millie?”
“Right.” Millie straightened up at her desk and transformed from Ele’s trusted confidant to her personal assistant. There was a difference. “I’ve been monitoring Tristan Davenport’s social media.”
Every nerve in Ele’s body pinged at the mention of Tristan. She hadn’t been watching his social media, but she didn’t want anyone looking at her web history. And she might have been watching the Hartesfield United games she could catch. Or maybe she had found an American Hartesfield United fan group that watched the games together, and she might have perhaps gotten ahold of a Davenport jersey. She might or might not be considered a superfan.
“Oh?”
Millie smirked. “Oh, indeed.” Then, she bit her lip again. Nervous.
“You need to tell me already. This is torture.”
“I-think-he’s-leaving-you-messages-on-his-social-media-accounts.”
“Was that English? It sounded like maybe some language I’m not quite familiar with.”
Millie closed her eyes and shook her head. When her eyes blinked open, she had her game face firmly in place. “I think Tristan has been trying to leave you messages.”
This time, Ele straightened in her seat. “What do you mean?”
“What is it called when the first letter of every word forms a message?”
Ele shrugged. “Acrostic.”
Millie’s hands fluttered in excitement. “Right, an acrostic. I think he’s been doing that.”
“Why do you think that?”
“He knows I monitor all of your press, and he has fallen into that realm. I check his accounts daily—not really looking for anything, but looking for something. Some clue.”
“Of what?”
“How he feels about you.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, oh. When the whole thing happened at the celebration, he was completely quiet. No posts for days. But a week later—”
“Opening day.”
“Exactly, and he was back online. But there were no new pictures. Everything posted was memories with different captions. It seemed weird because he is literally the most-followed footballer in the world. I thought maybe I was projecting, you know. Wanting to see something that might not be there.”
Heat rushed through Ele. Not like a panic attack, but rather a shot of adrenaline. “What convinced you?”
“The timing. I haven’t said anything because, at first, it wasn’t anything. But then I wrote all of the captions down, and the first letter of each one started forming words. And it was too coincidental. Because guess who cornered your brother in an elevator in the stadium on opening day.”
“Tristan,” Ele croaked.
“Yes.”
“Are you sure about this?”
“No. But, yes.” Millie shuffled forward, so her whole face filled the screen. For emphasis, Ele thought. “Do you want to see?”
“Yes.”
Millie held up a piece of paper. On it were lines of text. The first letters were like seventy-two-point font, and the rest were a regular twelve. Ele started from the top, opting for the small segments rather than the big picture.
Everything matters—even on off days.
Come on back. The pitch awaits.
Onward. Every day is one step closer.
My boyz. Those who have your six are always close.
Easy day on the pitch.
Back to basics.
Another win. Another dance move. Another time.
Chi-Town throwback. Magic.
Kind of like faith. Must have.
Trust me. I’ve got this.
Oh, yeah. I’m looking for my glass slipper.
Memories captured here.
Eyes on the prize.
Ele took a deep breath.
“E, come back to me.” Millie pulled the paper away from the screen. “Do you see it? What do you think?”