Page 29

Cherry

“I’ve never seen Nicky like that,” Serena says as we enter my room.

With her hand on my lower back, the spot I now know as Nicky’s, she guides me towards the edge of the bed, pushing me backwards until my legs hit the edge and I’m forced to sit down.

“The Ice Man has truly melted. I think he may kill someone.”

Lightning bolt pain throbs in my cheek and I chew my bottom lip, feeling like my nerves are eating an ulcer into my stomach lining. “I’m causing so many issues.”

Serena slips my shoes off and then turns to rummage through her purse. “None of this is your fault. The paparazzi out there are like a bunch of wild animals. They’re out of control.”

“But the article about me and Nicky…it is my fault. I forced him to dance with me in Miami and I forced him to go for a walk in Imola…”

She shakes her head, her spiral curls flying around her pretty face.

“No way. He’s his own man. You haven’t forced him to do anything.

From where I’m standing, the two of you spending time together is mostly his doing.

” She holds up her hand, stopping the objections about to fly out of my mouth.

“And the media are always looking to publish stuff about Nicky because he’s such a closed book. None of this is on you.”

I shake my head, so she continues. “Don’t worry, it will all die down. Here, take these. It will help with the pain.”

I swallow the tablets she hands me and lean back on my hands, my mind taking a rollercoaster ride along with my stomach.

“It will all be fine,” she repeats. “Just don’t look at your phone for a few days.”

My phone has been vibrating incessantly in my bag and I nod. Reading whatever is flying into my inbox and social media feed right now will make a bad situation so much worse.

“Cherry?”

We turn toward Nicky’s voice coming through the door.

“Can I come in?”

Serena raises her eyebrow at me and I nod. Of course he can come in.

“How is she?” he asks from the doorway, his usually olive complexion pale except for the slashes of red painting his cheekbones.

“She’s alright, Nicky.” My friend rubs his arm, and he offers her a half smile.

“Can you give us a few minutes?”

Serena looks between us while I turn his question over in my mind. He only wants to stay with me for a few minutes?

“Of course.” She picks up her bag and leans over to hug me. “I’ll come back and see you later.”

I watch her close the door and then focus on the man in front of it. He’s standing statue still, and yet I can feel the furious energy oozing off him in waves .

“Nicky?”

He startles and crosses the room to me in three quick strides. “How’s your cheek?”

“Better,” I lie. It’s throbbing like I’ve been punched in the face. “How are you?”

He sinks to his knees on the floor in front of me, bringing his eyes in line with mine.

“I’m not great,” he admits.

Acting on instinct, I run my fingers through the curls on the back of his head. He leans forward and rests his forehead on my shoulder, letting out a low groan.

“That shouldn’t have happened. Frieda warned me this may be a thing, and I selfishly spent time out with you anyway,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” I squeeze his shoulders, feeling his muscles bunched up tight under my fingers.

He leans back, his eyes tracing a path over the bruise blooming on my cheek.

His lips flatten into a grim line and his hands grip my hips tightly.

“I knew something like this could happen, it’s what I’ve been dealing with for years, and I still put you in this situation.

It’s like I’ve thrown you into the pack. ”

“But we’re not together. We’ve done nothing wrong,” I argue.

His laugh is a sharp, unhappy sound. “It doesn’t matter. It just matters what it looks like. They don’t care about what’s true, as long as they can sell their photos and their stories.”

I stroke my cold hand up and down his arm, my heart hurting for him at the bitterness in his voice. He’s been living under this microscope for his entire adult life; it must be almost impossible to live a normal life with this level of constant scrutiny.

“They’ve got us in their sights and after that scene out there, it’s only going to get worse.”

Worse than that ?

“Can we make it go away?”

He stands up in a jerky movement, pacing a few steps away from me and then back again. “There’s only one way to kill this sort of speculation.”

My heart pinches at the grim expression on his face. Whatever he’s about to say, I’m not going to like.

“How?”

His broad chest rises and falls as he draws in a deep breath.

Running a hand through his hair, he turns and moves further away from me, stopping when he gets to the window.

“It means we need to be careful. The media sense a story here and they won’t leave us alone until they find one.

We need to give it—the story—zero oxygen. ”

“Okay…”

“This means we can’t spend too much time together in the coming weeks. Especially alone. There are too many people around willing to take and sell photos of us. It’s not safe.”

“You want me to stay away from you?”

His shoulders jolt up around his ears. “It’s for the best.”

The idea of it, of keeping my distance from him, of him keeping his distance from me, bounces around my brain.

We’ve been on the precipice of something happening between us—the media isn’t completely off base in their reporting—and now it’s crashing to a halt.

In his need to protect me from the people out there wanting to hurt me, he’s hurting me the most.

I want to cry out, to yell at him that what we may have is worth whatever they may throw at us, but I don’t.

From the set of his shoulders and the tone of his voice, I know there’s no changing his mind.

Nicky will never put me in harm's way; it’s the way he’s been programmed with me since the day I was born.

“Do you want me to leave the team? ”

He spins around, panic flickering on his face before he masks it. “No!”

Phew. Because I can take keeping my distance from him, as long as I can still see him. Still be in his life in some small way.

“Then we’ll just be professional around each other. You’ll treat me like any other member of the team.”

His gaze roams all over me before he closes his eyes with a quiet sigh. “It’s for the best.”

“Yes.”

Decision made, I stand and walk over to him.

Taking his hands in mine, I stare up at him, using this moment to study his face.

The bruises under his eyes and the deep grooves around his mouth tell me how much this is weighing on him.

His hair is ruffled on top and his jaw is held in a tight line, like he’s holding in something he desperately wants to say.

I stand up on my toes and brush my lips over his cheek, wanting to comfort him—to let him know I’m okay—and not knowing exactly how to do it.

His eyes fly to mine and he inches closer, until we’re standing chest to chest, breathing each other in.

Who knows when we’ll be close like this again?

I pull in a deep inhale. “Nicky—”

His phone blares from somewhere deep in his pocket. He squeezes my hands and steps back, looking at his screen and back at me. “I have to go.”

I swallow thickly and nod, turning to walk with him to the door. This day has gone downhill so fast; just a few hours ago we were holding hands on his plane and now we’re being forced to keep our distance.

This must be what Rose and Jack had felt at the start of Titanic when they were forced apart by societal class structures. Well, class structures, and then the iceberg and then the floating door (I just know they both could’ve fitted) .

“You can still call me…anytime.” He pauses before opening the door. “I mean it, Cherry. If you need me, I’ll be there.”

I nod and attempt to give him a reassuring smile. I’m pretty sure I look like a sad face emoji instead.

“See you tomorrow at the track.”

He runs a gentle finger over my cheek, a mere whisper of a caress that hurts not because of the bruise that’s blossoming there, but because I know he won’t be touching me like this again.

“Bye.”

I wait until I know he’ll be long gone, before collapsing on the bed and finally allowing the tears that have been threatening to fall.

I cry because what happened out there with the press was scary.

I cry because my face really hurts. But mostly I cry because whatever was developing between the two of us is now gone.

Perhaps we are like Jack and Rose after all? I just hope our ending is not quite so tragic.

· · · · ·

Race day.

After the scrimmage in front of the hotel three days ago, things have gone from bad to worse.

As expected, the scuffle was captured from every available angle, and news about it spread like wildfire.

Tanya, trying to cheer me up, had sent me one such video showing Nicky in a rage-filled state, desperately trying to get to me.

The video is zoomed in on his panicked face and if you didn’t know the truth of the situation, of our ‘relationship,’ you’d think he was a man in love with me.

Hmph. Watching this video on repeat three hundred times has done little to lift my spirits.

To make matters worse, attempting to do my job looking like I’ve gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson is proving to be futile.

Everywhere I go in the paddock, people are whispering about me.

The ones I’ve gotten to know over the season have sent sympathetic glances my way, which is nice, but everyone else is eyeing me with suspicious speculation.

It’s a thing. I looked it up. It’s when a person is both buying into the gossip and sensing malicious intent behind it. Like they know not to wholly believe what the media are reporting but are also now wondering if I got this job because I’m sleeping with the boss.

Despite all I’ve done to build back my confidence since the Troy of it all, it’s shaking me up.