“No, it’s nothing like that. It’s just—I…” I pause to collect my thoughts. “I always wanted to play football. More than anything. My priorities may have shifted, that’s all.”

Realization dawns across Jeremy’s face. “This is about her. The princess.”

I don’t answer.

“Dawson, women don’t last. What does last? Your name in the Hall of Fame. You could be one of the greats. Don’t toss this dream away on a whim. You’re going to wake up bitter and angry one day that you gave up this opportunity.”

I ignore his bleak prediction. “All I asked was for you to tell my options. I’m only—”

“You wouldn’t have called me here if you weren’t seriously considering it, Dawson.”

I sigh, frustrated. “And I didn’t ask you to comment on my personal life. I asked you here so I know what my options are.”

Jeremy heaves out an exasperated sigh of his own. “You’ll have to buy yourself out. That’s the only way to exit your contract barely into the first year.”

“How much?”

“Five million.”

Fuck.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

VIVIENNE

I stare out the window at the falling leaves. It’s chilly today, colder than it’s been in months. It reminds me of Michigan.

“Vivienne? Vivienne!”

“Yes?” I ask, turning to look at Anne.

“I was trying to update you two on our media strategy.”

“Oh, right. Sorry,” I reply, glancing at Charles. He’s grinning at me, and I smile back automatically. “Just admiring the nice weather.”

I receive twin expressions of confusion for that comment. Any time the temperature drops below mild is typically not considered very pleasant here.

“I was just saying how well the interview of you two is playing in the media. Especially the story you told, Charles, about handing the Princess flowers when you two were little. Someone dug up old footage of it, and it’s getting coverage everywhere. We need to shift toward the wedding next…”

I tune her out again, glancing back at the leaves dancing in the wind.

“…been six weeks since any mention of the Dawson story…”

That regains my attention. I look to Anne. “What did you just say?”

“I said we’ll wait a couple more weeks, but any mention of your past relationship with Mr. Dawson has been absent from the media since six weeks ago.”

“It’s been six weeks?” I ask. My stomach sinks.

“Yes.”

“You’re certain?”

“I can assure you I’ve been keeping very close track,” Anne replies. “Now, there’s the photo shoot for the magazine article later this week, but aside from that, there’s nothing we need to prepare for yet. Any questions?”

Charles shakes his head and looks to me. I shake my head as well.

“Okay, wonderful.” Anne closes her binder and rises from the table in the corner of her office before walking back over to her desk.

Charles stands up as well, stretching. He starts toward the door, then realizes I’m not following.

“Vivienne?” he asks.

“Go ahead,” I instruct. “I thought of something I’d like to discuss with Anne, after all.”