I missed the last half of their conversation, but I watched the driver tip his hat and turn, adding a few parting words over his shoulder. “Welcome to the games!”
“I’m going to be sick.”
I turned and ran for the nearest bathroom—there was one tucked away in a corner of the lobby—and I shoved past an open stall door. I was barely hunched over the toilet when my stomach turned over. I kneeled there, dry heaving and wiping away the tears that insisted on streaming down my cheeks. I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t understand how quickly my life had gone to shit.
My wrist burned from the pressure of holding myself up over the toilet, but I didn’t ease off it. I let the pain sear through me.
“Andie, are you okay?”
Kinsley was there, rubbing my back and trying to console me.
I couldn’t form words. The dry heaves wouldn’t stop.
My Olympic dreams were over…
And Freddie was a fucking liar.
Welcome to the games, indeed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Freddie
I RAKED MY hands through my hair and tried to get ahold of the situation as best as I could. Georgie and Caroline were in Rio. They were in Rio, together. In my flat. I paced back and forth in Thom’s room, trying to figure out what to do.
“This is a bloody mess,” I said, keeping my voice down so it wouldn’t travel across the flat. Caroline was in my room, returning the phone calls she’d missed during the flight. Fortunately, it gave me a few minutes alone with Georgie.
My sister leveled me with a narrowed stare. “Obviously, you twat! Why do you think I’ve been trying so hard to get ahold of you over the past two days!”
“I told Mum the betrothal was over!”
“Yes, and like always, Mum has ignored you and sent Caroline anyway. This is precisely how she used to get what she wanted with Dad—sheer stubbornness. She thinks you’ll see Caroline and be overcome with unbridled love for her.”
I wiped my hand down my face. “I did nearly pass out when I saw her get out of that limo before you.”
Georgie laughed. “Maybe that’s what unbridled love feels like?”
I groaned. “I assure you, it’s not.”
“Well what do you want me to do?”
“Keep her occupied. I need to talk to Andie and warn her that Caroline is here.”
Her smile fell. “I saw a story about her injury while we were in the limo. Do you think it's serious?”
I wouldn’t know. I’d watched the game on the TV during my workout. I’d stood immobile as they replayed her bad landing over and over again in slow motion. Her pain was written across her face as they walked her off the field with her friends in tow, looking more dejected than the losing team. I’d cut my workout off early and tried to reach her.
“Freddie? Have you heard from her? What’s going to happen?”
“I don't know, Georgie. I haven't managed to reach her all day. She's been ignoring my texts.”
Georgie laughed. “Probably because you’re a miserable sod. Maybe you ought to keep Caroline around. She could be all you’ve got.”
“You aren’t helping.”
She threw her hands up. “Fine. I’ll go distract Caroline, but you owe me big time. I’ve already been on a flight with the turtle for a million hours. I had to occupy myself with one of her corny inspirational books the entire way. It was my own personal purgatory.”
Caroline was still in my room with the door closed, so hopefully she couldn’t hear Georgie.
“Wait, did you say ‘turtle’?”
She smiled, proud of herself. “She’s got the personality of a sea turtle so I’ve taken to addressing her as such.”
“Georgie,” I scolded.
“What? The book she lent me was called Becoming Boring: Volume III. She’s clearly already memorized the first two.”
“I doubt that was the name of the book.”
She waved me off. “I’ve forgotten. Anyway, have you got a granola bar or something? Caroline wanted to grab dinner at the airport but I couldn’t stand another minute alone with her.”
I led her out into the kitchen and tossed her one of Thom’s protein bars. The mumbles from my room cut off and then a moment later Caroline whipped open the door. I cringed thinking of everything she might have overheard, but she was all smiles as she came out to join us.
“How about we all go get dinner? I saw this great little place on the way in.”
Georgie waved her protein bar. “I’m all set, but you go ahead.”
Caroline’s smile fell as her gaze swept to me and I actually felt sympathy for her. Caroline was a nice person, and she didn’t deserve to be led on. I needed to carve out time to pull her aside and chat with her, but at the moment, my priority was Andie. I needed to find out if she was okay. I needed to tell her Caroline had arrived and promise her that everything would be sorted shortly.
I took a deep breath and met Caroline’s gaze. “I have a few things I need to do with the team, and you must be tired from the flight. Rest up, then I think we should sit down and talk tomorrow.”
Her features perked up at the idea. “Okay. How about we talk over dinner?”
I swallowed down my desire to turn her down. The chat needed to be short and respectful. We didn’t need to sit down for a four-course meal, but she looked so hopeful and it was easier to say yes. With the plans made, I moved on to the next item on my list: Andie.
I took the elevator down to her floor, thankful to know the way after I’d walked her home the night before. My mobile rang midway down the hallway—Thom. I nearly ignored it, too anxious to reach Andie, but I swiped my hand across the screen and said hello as I scanned the flat numbers on the wall.
“How’s Andie?”
“I wouldn’t know. She’s still not replying to my messages.”
“That’s because they’re probably still running a billion tests on her. She’ll ring you when she’s done.”
I ignored him and knocked on her door.
“We have practice soon,” he continued. “Are you planning on bunking off?”
“Shit.”
I had my first race in a week; I couldn’t skip practice.
“Just give me a minute to—”
My sentence was clipped by the sound of someone unlocking the door. Kinsley pulled the door open then blocked my entry with an unwelcoming gaze. I hung up on Thom and swallowed down her annoyance.
“Is Andie here?” I asked.
Becca walked up behind her, further blocking me from entry.
“Yes.”
The two of them both looked like they’d been through hell and back.
“Could I talk to her?”
Kinsley crossed her arms. “She’s had a tough day, Freddie. Give her a second to catch her breath.”
I took a step closer. She could catch her breath with me.
“I just need to talk to her for a second. I need to know how she is.”
Kinsley shook her head. “Not good. She’s out for the rest of the games.”
My heart sank. “Is it broken? Her wrist?”
She shook her head. “No, but the doctor thinks it will be if she keeps playing on it.”
I couldn’t imagine how upset she was. She’d worked her entire life to earn a spot on that team and with one tough save, it was over. I tugged my hand through my hair, trying to think up some way to make it better for her.
“How is she handling it?”
Why the bloody hell were they keeping me out in the hallway? I needed to talk to Andie. I needed to see her and promise her everything would be all right. Doctors are paid to be overly cautious. Maybe if she—
“Listen, Freddie,” Kinsley continued. “Andie doesn’t want to speak with you. Your actions have spoken louder than any words you might have to say.”
My brows furrowed. “What do you mean she doesn’t want to see me?”
Kinsley sighed, glanced behind her, and then leaned in close, droppin
g her voice to a whisper. “We all saw you with Caroline this afternoon. Andie was there, looking for you for comfort. You are a new level of asshole.”
My heart dropped. They didn’t understand.
“No.” I shook my head. “No. I need to talk to her. I’ll explain it.”
I pushed my hand against the door to slide past Kinsley, and I shoved it harder than I’d meant to. It whipped out of Kinsley’s hand and slammed against the wall, hard. Kinsley’s eyes went round as saucers and Becca stepped closer, protecting her. From me.
Fuck, this was going wrong.
“Andie!” I shouted, trying to get her to come out and talk to me.
“Stop it, you lunatic!” Kinsley stepped forward and held her hand up to my chest. “Jesus, she’s had the worst day of her life. Don’t make this harder for her.”
I stepped back and slid my hands through my hair, feeling powerless on the threshold of their flat.
“Look, I wasn’t lying about ending my betrothal.” I raised my voice. “ANDIE! I WASN’T LYING.”
Kinsley winced. “Stop! Jesus, Freddie. You’re making a scene.”
She had the door in her hand again and she was trying to close it, to push me out of the flat and out of Andie’s life. I wouldn’t let her do it.
“Kinsley, you have to tell her I didn’t invite Caroline here. I didn’t know she’d be in that limo with Georgie. This is all a jumbled mess, but I’ll figure it out. I’ll…”
Kinsley was shaking her head and staring up at me with a mixture of pity and—worse—hatred. I sounded crazy, and she didn’t believe me. Bloody hell.
I wasn’t going to let them speak for me. I wasn’t going to let them muddle the facts and confuse Andie. I already looked crazy, so I shoved past them. I didn’t know which bedroom was Andie’s, but two of the doors off the living room were open and empty, so the one closest to me, the one with the closed door had to be hers. I knew she was in there, but I wasn’t going to barge in. I’d give her that much. I stood outside the door as Kinsley and Becca shouted at me that they were going to call whatever the Brazilian 911 was. God, I was causing a scene. I knew I was being a prick, but I couldn’t let this get any further out of hand. I was falling for Andie. I was falling for her so bloody hard and so bloody fast that the idea of losing her over a misunderstanding seemed unfathomable.
“Andie, please come talk to me,” I begged.
Kinsley gripped my arm with surprising strength, trying to tug me back. I hardly recognized this version of myself, this lovesick dog.
“Andie, please,” I begged again, pressing my hand up to the door as if she could see it through the cheap particle board. “Last night was the best night of my life. I need you to know that…”
There were no sounds coming from her room, nothing to indicate my pleas were even reaching her. I was pouring my heart out to a white door.
“Freddie, you need to go…” Kinsley said, holding up her phone. “My husband Liam is on his way.”
I squeezed my eyes closed and fisted my hand against her door. I had to leave. I had practice and I wasn’t about to get escorted out like a psychopath. I turned away from her door and brushed past Kinsley and Becca without another word. I walked up to my flat and gathered my swimming gear. I was late for practice and Coach was going to chew me out…but I couldn’t seem to care.
A heavy fog lingered around me, even in the pool. The water was usually my escape, but that day, my heart wasn’t in it. I swam slow, ignored my coach, and left right after practice, not even bothering to wait for Thom.
I tried to reach out to her one last time before bed.
Freddie: Please give me a few days to get this sorted. I never lied to you. I’m ending my betrothal.
She responded right away.
Andie: Of course you are. Is that before or after your “winter wedding”?
Freddie: Where are you? Can we meet somewhere? We need to talk.
Andie: Save it for your fiancée.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Andie
THE ANGER I felt toward Freddie paled in comparison to the self-loathing that had settled in the pit of my stomach since the day before. I had known Freddie was betrothed. He’d been perfectly honest about that from the start. I’d been the one to fall into a fairytale. I’d let my fantasies get the better of me, until reality sank in like a hot sharp knife.
The harshest reality?
That I was stupid enough to fall for a man who’d been unavailable from the start. I was surrounded by a fucking all-you-can-eat buffet of sexy single athletes, yet I’d chosen one of the few that were off limits.
That’s stupidity at its finest.
I hadn’t left my room the night before. After leaving the bathroom in the lobby, I’d locked my door and barricaded myself inside. When Freddie had pounded his fist on the other side and begged me to come talk to him, I’d stared at my wall and prayed he’d go away. I needed him to go back to Caroline and leave me alone. It would make it so much easier for me to squash my delusions. I needed him to cut me off cold turkey.
But he was messaging me constantly. Every time I looked down at my phone, I had a new text from him that I had to delete. Since he wasn’t going to leave me alone, I did the next best thing: I googled Caroline Montague incessantly. For hours, I sat on my bed—alternating between icing and heating my wrist—and scrolled through articles about the English socialite. There was no shortage of information about her. I read up on everything from her fifth birthday party (her family had thrown a lavish affair at her family’s country castle) to her sweet sixteen (in lieu of a party, she’d asked friends to donate gifts to the children’s hospital in London). Honestly, it would have felt very good to find some salacious gossip or a mug shot after a drunken night out on the town, but instead of skeletons in her closet, TMZ only reported that she was pleasant to everyone she encountered.
At first, I didn’t believe it. Every celebrity poses for feel-good photo-ops every now and then, but with Caroline, they didn’t seem staged. She didn’t even have her own social media accounts. The stories were spread from the people she met—the surprised children, elated to have gifts from Caroline on Christmas Eve, or an elderly woman who intimated that Caroline had helped her shop for groceries each Saturday morning for the past five years.
I forced myself to read every article there was about her, including one about her betrothal to Freddie. It’d been posted recently, only three weeks before Freddie’s arrival in Rio. The reporter highlighted the fact that the setup was a bit old-fashioned (even by British standards), but that “it was an earthly formality only meant to celebrate the match that had so clearly been made in heaven”.
I wanted to paint Caroline as the villain. It would have been so nice to hate her, but by the end of the night, I felt nothing nothing but confusion and sadness: confusion over why Freddie didn’t love Caroline—for god’s sake, after internet stalking her for a few hours, I was willing to toss my life aside and marry her myself—and sadness, because, at the end of this all, one of us was going to end up brokenhearted.
“Ready, Andie?”
I turned to find Lisa standing a few feet from the training table, looking fresh-faced and ready to get to work. Her black polo nearly matched the color of her eyes as she assessed my wrist. I’d been icing it for the last fifteen minutes, but it was time to start my training session for the day.
“No rest for the weary.”
She nodded. “Let’s have a look at it. Sit and scoot back.”
I followed her directions and propped myself up on the leather table. She came around the side so she could unwind the wrapping as gently as possible. The bruising was already more faded than the day before.
“Tell me when it starts to hurt,” she said, turning the wrist slowly counterclockwise. “I’m trying to get a feel for the mobility.”
She kept going, working my hand in different directions and applying varying amounts of pressure before I finally couldn’t take it.
&nbs
p; “There.” I winced.
“Okay.” She nodded. “Your doctor sent over your x-rays. In his email he recommended that you sit out for the rest of the Olympic games…?”
Her black eyes darted up to me for confirmation, but I shook my head.
“Well that was his recommendation, but I have a different plan.”
She reached beneath the trainer’s table for a blue elastic band. “Is that so?”
She seemed amused, which was a first. From what I’d gathered during our training sessions, Lisa wasn’t someone who laughed easily.
“Yes. I know my body and I know how far I can push it.”
“So you think you can play in two days? Isn’t that when your next game is?”
I bit my lip, thinking over her question. I hadn’t been able to put any pressure on my wrist the day before, and it’d only improved slightly overnight.
“Okay, not that game,” I relented. “But definitely the final.”
“When’s the final?”
“Next week.”
She scoffed. “You’re asking for trouble.”
I leaned back. “So you’re not going to help?”
Her dark eyes met mine. “Oh no, I didn’t say that. If you’re willing to put in the time, then so am I. I’m not saying you’ll be ready for the final game, but together, we can try.”
I smiled. “All right. What first?”
She tossed the blue elastic band at me. “This thing. And rest assured, you aren’t going to like it.”
MY TRAINING SESSION with Lisa was about as enjoyable as a bikini wax paired with a nipple piercing (the latter being something I could only make assumptions about), but it felt good to have a goal again, and the pain distracted me from thinking of Freddie. After she was done torturing me, I dragged myself back to our condo, showered, and threw on the first thing I touched: the unicorn onesie Becca had insisted on hanging in my closet. I had to hand it to her though—after I slipped it on and zipped that sucker up, I decided I’d wear it for the rest of my life. It was soft, and it did make me feel a little bit better. Glitter will do that to you.