AFTER HEARING THE news of Frederick’s betrothal, I sat immobile, absorbing the news in shocked silence as my smoothieless stomach began to grumble. My mother had attached a Daily Mail news story to her text message and though I didn’t want to, I read it. It highlighted the life and love of Caroline Montague and chronicled her high society British upbringing. Her father, while not titled himself, had invented the software used in most vending machines, and subsequently leveraged his earnings to put his hand in just about every business operating in London. She was worth more than most countries and the news story hinted that their betrothal would unite two illustrious European families, from the old world and the new.
There was a photo of Freddie and Caroline from their teenage years at the very bottom of the article. Apparently they’d been friends since childhood and it had come as a shock to no one when their families announced the betrothal. Caroline Montague was beautiful with delicate features and long blonde hair. She was styled “The People’s Princess Diana”, beloved by all and philanthropic to the core. How lovely.
I wanted to feel heartbroken and betrayed by the news. My gut told me I’d been wronged, but then common sense chimed in and leveled with me. I was not in love with Frederick Archibald. People do not fall in love overnight. I was merely excited by the idea of Freddie the same way I got excited by two-for-one ice cream sundaes at McDonald’s. I couldn’t fault myself for it. I had working lady parts and a pulse, therefore the sight of Frederick Archibald had seemed alluring. No big deal. I could move on. There were plenty of other fish in the sea (probably the most applicable that phrase would ever be). The games were filled with sexy athletes whose only baggage was of the carryon variety. Sure, Freddie’s jaw was chiseled from Grecian marble and his boyish grin had topped a BuzzFeed poll in 2014 entitled “Panty-Melting Smiles”, but there were plenty of attractive people in Rio. Thousands of them, in fact. On to the next.
“Andie, yoohoo! Earth to Andie.”
I glanced up to find Kinsley staring at me over the back of the couch. Becca sat beside her, flipping through TV channels at a rate that made my eyes water.
“Becca and I found this really good Netflix documentary series about baby arctic whales, and if we start it tonight, we can probably finish all the episodes before we head back to L.A.”
She seemed really excited about the prospect, but there was no way I was joining them. I was putting the finishing touches on a sandwich in our condo’s tiny kitchen, and instead of replying, I took a giant bite and offered her a vague head nod.
“Wait. Why are you dressed like you’re going out?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.
Becca turned back to assess me as well and I swallowed down the glob of peanut butter lodged in my throat.
“Oh. Well.” I glanced down at my jean cutoffs and a cream, off-the-shoulder blouse. “Because I am.”
Kinsley threw up her arms. “But Liam will be over here soon, and you are supposed to be our little baby beluga.”
“I thought you loved whales,” Becca added.
They knew I had a love for whales and they’d likely picked the series because they thought I needed cheering up. They assumed I was upset about Freddie’s betrothal, but I couldn’t have been further from upset. I didn’t need to mope around our condo like my love life was over, because in fact, it was just getting started. I’d received an invitation on Facebook to a poker night hosted by a few members of the Portuguese men’s soccer team, and there was no way I was going to pass up that opportunity. They were all tall, tan, and ridiculously handsome. I hadn’t played poker in years, but I figured I could skirt by on luck long enough to find a replacement for my Rio boy-toy. I mean, what isn’t cute about two soccer players in love? Nothing, as evidenced by Kinsley and Becca’s storybook romances.
“As fun as the documentary sounds, I think I’m going to go out.”
They frowned in tandem.
“Look, I don’t expect you guys to understand. You’re both married, and well, boring.”
“Hey!” Becca said.
I threw them an apologetic smile. “I mean, it’s the truth. If you guys were single, you’d be coming to this poker night with me.”
“Not true,” Kinsley argued.
I laughed. “Right. Let’s see. Remember when you broke the rules to date Liam Wilder even though he was your college soccer coach?”
Becca burst out laughing, but Kinsley turned and narrowed her bright blue eyes on me. “That was different.”
I shrugged. “It just seems strange that you’re so adamantly against me going out and meeting a cute guy here when you both have had your fair share of fun.”
Becca hummed in thought. I knew I was making a valid point.
“I just think I should get the choice to make the most of being in Rio.”
Kinsley nodded. “You’re right. But just so you know, you’re gorgeous, Andie. And I’m not just saying that because I like you. You could be betrothed to a million Freddie Archibalds if you wanted to be.”
I shook my head. “Thanks for your confidence in my polygamy skills, but really, I’m not even thinking about that—him—any more.”
“And if you want to go out and have fun, be my guest, but I’m not going to stop being overprotective of you. I made a promise to your mom that I’d watch out for you while we’re down here.”
“My mom called you?!”
Kinsley shot me a glare. “Christy has me on speed dial.”
Of course. I should have known.