IT WAS FOUR days after I’d cut off communication that he called me. I was alone, in my shared hotel room, and I glanced down to find his name flashing across my phone’s screen. I knew it would only make matters worse if I answered it, and yet I couldn’t resist.
“Andie?” he answered in shock.
My name, spoken from his lips, was enough to make me tear up.
“Andie?” he asked again when I didn’t speak up.
“I’m here,” I said, hearing the sadness in my voice.
“I can’t believe I’m finally talking to you.”
I inhaled a shaky breath and tried to pull it together. I knew I only had a few minutes before Kinsley and Becca returned to our hotel with food from a diner down the street.
“How are you?” he asked, so desperately hopeful that I had to answer, even though I hated the small talk.
“I’m good. I watched your final race today,” I said, staring up at the popcorn ceiling. “Well, not live obviously. We were visiting one of the children’s hospitals in D.C. and they were playing the footage from a few days ago.”
“It was a good race,” he said; I could hear the exhaustion in his voice.
There were so many questions I wanted to ask him. How’s London? How’s Georgie? How’s that sixth gold medal feel around your neck? Did you go to the closing ceremonies? Have you talked to Caroline? Have you thought about me as much as I’ve thought about you?
“Freddie, I—”
“Andie, hold on.” I could hear him talking to someone in the background, but I couldn’t tell who it was. “Give me a second,” he told the other person.
The hotel door opened with laughter as Kinsley and Becca entered the room, arms overflowing with takeout.
“I hope you’re hungry!” Kinsley said, dropping two to-go containers at the bottom of my queen bed before glancing up and realizing I was on the phone. “Oops!” she said, covering her mouth.
I shook my head and mouthed, “It’s fine,” before slipping into the bathroom and locking the door.
“Freddie, are you still ther—”
My question was cut off by his own statement. “Andie, I’ve got to run. I’ve got a meeting with my PR team in the morning and my lawyer wants to go over a few things.”
“Oh, okay right,” I said, meeting my own sad reflection in the mirror.
“Yeah, I’ll try and reach you la—”
His sentence cut off.
“Freddie?” I asked, to no reply.
I stared down at the black screen. It’d taken four days to get a thirty second phone call. Four days of watching Caroline’s face splashed across every magazine, TV, and news story I stumbled upon. Four days of watching her dip into wedding boutiques and baby boutiques around London. Four days and all I had to show for it was a thirty second phone call.
It wasn’t enough.
I missed him so much and the more days that passed, the farther apart we felt. Thirty seconds couldn’t sustain me. Thirty seconds wouldn’t reassure me that he and I would work out. Thirty seconds was nothing.
“Andie, are you okay?”
I’d sunk down to the bathroom floor. Could they hear me out there?
I inhaled and swiped at my cheeks, trying desperately to get rid of the evidence. I couldn’t keep crying over Freddie. I was really fucking sick of crying over Freddie. This was supposed to be the best week of my life and I was sitting on the bathroom of a five-star hotel where the towels were warmed and the soap was designer, and I was crying about stupid Frederick Archibald and his stupidly beautiful face.
I felt something hit my butt and I turned to find a piece of paper they’d slid under the bathroom door.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Freddie
MY FIRST NIGHT back in London, I started unpacking my things, amazed that I’d been able to bring so much shite with me across the ocean. I worked my way through a pile of stuff sitting on a chair in the corner, but paused when I caught a glimpse of red lace peeking out from the very bottom. It was the red mask Andie had worn to Mascarada. I’d pocketed it on our way out of the club. She couldn’t wait to take it off and had nearly tossed it in a bin, but I’d caught it first.
It was beautiful and she’d looked beautiful wearing it. Caroline had done her best to taint that moment in the club, but she couldn’t erase the memories we’d made on that leather couch. I’d had Andie under my thumb in the dim lights and if I closed my eyes and ran my hand over the red lace, I could still feel the lust take hold.
I picked it up off the chair and cradled it in my hand. The red lace was torn in one corner and the black silk ribbon was crinkled, but other than that, it was no worse for wear.
“I know Caroline is faking the pregnancy and I’m THIS close to proving it!”