That’s all. How did the appointment go? Five words that were innocuous and gentle and thoughtful, and yet I hated every syllable. How was I supposed to flip through magazines and turn on the TV and see Caroline splashed across every page and every channel and pretend that it was okay? How was I supposed to handle small talk when what I really wanted to do was pick up my phone, call him, and shout that things like appointments and races and “how was your afternoon” and “what did you eat for dinner” didn’t fucking matter.
Fuck.
I was crying and I was so sick of crying. With my luck, the doctor was going to do that two knuckled knock on the door soon. I didn’t want to be a blubbering mess while he tried to talk to me about my wrist.
I couldn’t do it. I opened his text and read it over again, feeling more angry than dejected.
There were things Freddie and I needed to talk about, none of which included him asking me about my appointment. I didn’t want to see his name pop up on my phone unless it was him announcing that he had found some resolution for the Caroline dilemma. The little banter, the small talk hurt too much. They were empty words and I told him so. I typed out everything I’d been thinking since I’d left Rio. There’s no way this will work. You’re a million miles away. What if Caroline IS pregnant and what if it IS your baby? Caroline will never let us be happy. The world will never let us be happy. Every magazine and newspaper and TV show is reporting your engagement to her. How could this possibly end well for us? And then I capped it off with a final text.
Andie: For now, I need to focus on my wrist and my career.
It was as solid as a breakup. I’d completely come to terms with the fact that Caroline had won. Unless she got hit by a meteorite, she wasn’t going to let Freddie and I be together. So what was the point of ignoring the inevitable?
The doctor knocked just as I’d slipped my phone back into my purse.
“Ms. Foster?” he asked as he strolled inside.
I took a deep breath. It was time to focus on something other than Freddie.
KINSLEY, BECCA, AND I spent three days in L.A. before we flew to New York to meet the rest of our team for a Good Morning America interview. We were scheduled for a week-long tour around the United States that I’d been looking forward to like a death sentence. Kinsley pushed me onto the plane in L.A. and once we landed, there were cars waiting outside the airport to whisk us directly to the studio. I needed sleep, a shower, and a decent meal, but there was no time.
Right before we went on air, Becca handed me two espresso shots.
“Because you literally look like death,” she said with a laugh.
I downed them like water and within a minute, I knew it’d been a mistake. I was already nervous enough to go on live TV. I didn’t want to talk about Freddie. I hadn’t responded to his text messages, though I’d read every single one.
...please don’t do this…
…give me time…
…just give me something here…
He still hadn’t gotten a handle on Caroline, which meant there was no reason to respond.
As the hosts announced us and we walked out onto the stage to patriotic music, I thought I’d have a heart attack. I took a seat beside Kinsley and tried to contain my nerves.
In the end, I thought I’d answered the questions normally, but Kinsley and Becca wouldn’t stop making fun of how jittery I’d been. I pulled off the fake eyelashes the makeup team had made me wear and scrubbed the makeup off my face.
“It’s Becca’s fault!” I said. “She gave me enough caffeine to kill me.”
Becca laughed. “Well you can thank me later. This week is going to be insane, so I suggest resting up and staying caffeinated.”
She wasn’t kidding.
After our interview with Good Morning America, we did a fan meet-and-greet. Immediately after that, we flew to Washington D.C. where, over the next few days, we were honored with a special dinner and a parade around the capital. I shook the President’s hand and tried not to say anything inappropriate or gushy to Michelle Obama.
During the parade, Kinsley leaned over and nudged me.
“Make sure to soak this all up while you can. These moments are once in a lifetime.”
I stared out over the crowd surroundings the streets. They were all waving small American flags, screaming and shouting as we drove by on top of a fire truck. There were little girls wearing jerseys with my number on them, crying as I tossed candy and necklaces with tiny soccer balls hanging off like charms. I soaked in the moment, trying to smile and wave at every fan who was there to support us, and yet all the while, a part of me was 6,299 miles away in Rio.
Every chance I got, I’d check my phone for messages from Freddie. I craved his messages as much as I hated them.
…I miss you…
…I’m off to London tomorrow and I’ll be meeting with my lawyers right away…