I glanced away and focused on the water rippling across the surface of the pool. I knew my answer would shift the mood of the afternoon, but I supposed it was easier to tell her the truth. “Henry died.”
“Oh shit,” I heard her whisper beneath her breath. It didn’t shock me any more, but I was sure she hadn’t been expecting that answer. Normal, healthy thirty-year-old men don’t just die out of the blue, but my brother had. Heart defect. The shock of it had only begun to wear off a few months back.
I turned back to Andie to find her easygoing smile replaced with a look of shame. Her brows were crinkled and her lips were downturned into a frown I would have kissed away had I the right.
“I’m really sorry for pushing the subject,” she said. “We were joking around and I ruined it.”
I shook my head and scooted my hand toward hers, nearly touching it. “It’s all right. You wanted the truth and that’s the honest truth. When my brother passed a few years ago, the responsibility, the title, the estate, and everything that went along with it passed on to me—although it feels as if the job inherited me, rather than the other way around.”
Her tone sobered. “And that’s how you got Caroline.”
“So it would seem.”
“You don’t think you could love her? Even down the line?”
I’d mulled over that question a million times in my head, ever since the day my mother had suggested the betrothal. At times I could convince myself that Caroline was the one for me, but I’d never once deluded myself into thinking I could love her.
“She’s…not my match,” I answered simply.
“Your match?”
“My soulmate,” I clarified.
She smiled. “Your cheeks are red.”
Of course the bloody minx would point out the fact that I’d gone red in the face. “Well I sound like a schoolgirl going on about this sort of thing.”
She nodded and turned back to the pool. “If it helps, I really hope Caroline becomes your match. It would be sad if you ended up spending the rest of your life with someone you never truly loved.”
I nodded and watched her turning small circles in the water with her toes. Her skin was still flushed from the workout and when I looked up, her smile was back but subdued, hanging at the corners of her mouth, ready to spring free if only someone could unlock it. I wanted to be that person.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Andie
I WATCHED MY trainer Lisa tape my wrist, taking her time to get it right before our practice started. My wrist hurt a little more than it had the day before, but I’d been icing it after practice and there wasn’t much else I could do.
“You really need to play it safe,” Lisa said as she pulled a small pair of scissors out of her pocket and cut off the excess tape. “Injuries like this seem minor, but they can flare up really easily.”
I nodded, absorbing her warning. My wrist wasn’t the only ticking time bomb in my life. It seemed everywhere I went, I was walking on a minefield, Freddie included. The day before, after we’d finished swimming, I’d stood to towel off and get dressed and he’d invited me to get a quick bite to eat. He’d made it sound so casual—“supper at the cafe”—and I’d wanted to say yes, but I shook my head and offered up a firm no. I swore I was busy and he swore it was only dinner. Neither of us truly believed the other.
I couldn’t quite work out Freddie’s motives in my head. Did he truly just need a friend? Did he find me as fun to be around as I did him? Or was he looking for more? Possibly even a way out of a betrothal he wanted nothing to do with? Whether intentionally or not, he was pulling me into murky water. A quick swim, a casual lunch—they were all things that would have looked okay on paper, but I knew better.
“You’re all set,” Lisa said, tossing the roll of tape into her bag.
I slid off her table and took a shaky breath.
My team was already in the middle of the field, spread out for warm-ups. I took a spot in the back row and started rolling out the muscles in my neck.
“Morning Andie.”
I glanced up to find Liam walking toward me. He was in his coaching gear, his soccer shorts in place and his whistle around his neck. The notion that we were supposed to take him seriously had been hilarious to me when I first joined the team. Before he met Kinsley, Liam Wilder had been painted a notorious bad boy, but after a nagging knee injury forced him to retire, he returned to the life of a reluctant coach. He’d settled down with Kinsley, and with time really came into his own in a coaching capacity. Even so, there was no suppressing the fact that he was still young, tattooed, and incredibly good-looking.
“How’s your wrist?” he asked, eyeing the tape.
“It’s fine.”
He nodded. “Good. Three days left before our first game; I want to make sure you’re ready.”