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“Maybe, just lie low for the rest of the day?” Serena says, pulling me in for a bear hug.

I’d just attempted to record my behind-the-scenes segment with some of the backend hospitality ladies, the ones who seem friendly and stock our favourite snacks, but it hadn’t gone so well.

They were the ones asking all the questions, wanting to get the inside scoop from me, and after ten fruitless minutes, I’d given up.

Just photos on Cherry’s Corner this weekend, it seems.

“Yeah.” I rest my head on her shoulder and draw in a deep breath. So far, I’d kept the tears at bay outside of my hotel room, but everything is escalating and the already tenuous control I have over my emotions is close to snapping.

“How are you feeling?”

I pull myself out of my daze and let go of Serena, turning to give Patrick my best impression of a smile. “I’m good,” I lie.

He steps closer to us. “Tell me the truth.”

The truth? These last few days have been awful.

The paparazzi have followed every move I’ve made, shouting all sorts of terrible things at me to get a reaction.

The bruise on my face has taken on a life of its own and refuses to be covered by any sort of concealer or foundation.

And I’ve not spoken to or been near Nicky in over seventy-two hours, and I miss him.

“I’ve been better,” I admit, biting my lip to stop it quivering.

Come on, Cherry. You’ve been doing so well. You can’t start blubbering just because the lovely Patrick Laurent is being kind to you.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think Nicky’s doing all that great, either.”

This doesn’t make me feel any better. In fact, it has the opposite effect.

Plus, I didn’t need Patrick to tell me that the events of the last few days appear to have affected Nicky as well. He qualified in P9 yesterday; his lowest qualifying position of the season.

I can’t help but feel somewhat responsible.

“Let’s hope he has a better day today,” is all I can say. It’s not like it can get much worse.

His gaze searches my mine, and he does me a solid by changing the subject. “When are you guys heading home?”

Home. To London and not to Nicky’s place. Gosh, the media would have a field day if I did that.

“The day after tomorrow,” Serena answers.

We have two weeks until the next race in Monaco. I had wanted to see a bit more of Montreal before leaving, now though, I’d rather head back to Serena’s flat and bury my head under a blanket and let the world fade away.

“Then let’s go out tonight.”

That sounds terrible. Out is where the press lives.

“Patrick…”

He holds his hand up and gives Serena a look. She jumps on his telepathy and pokes me in the ribs. “Come on. You need a night out. To relax and maybe have a little fun? ”

I shake my head, thinking of all the photographers who have been plaguing me all weekend.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. They’re following me everywhere.

The last thing I need is to add fuel to any of these stories.

Can you imagine if they get a photo of the two of us together?

” I say to Patrick. “Then, all of a sudden, I’m cheating on Nicky with his teammate. ”

He chuckles at the picture I’m painting and I scowl at him. I’m not trying to be funny here.

“There will be the three of us,” he points out. “Maybe it will help get the heat off you two. Showing you’re just a friend of the team and nothing more.”

“Come on, Cherry. Please.” This comes from Serena, who has been cooped up with me all weekend, like the best friend she is. I know she’s been dying to get out and explore but has missed the chance because of my unfortunate…circumstances.

My resolve weakens as I look into their puppy dog eyes. In my mind, it’s a toss-up between going out with my bestie and the cute Frenchman or sitting alone in my hotel room eating room service.

“Fine,” I cave. “But whatever we do, it needs to be low-key.”

They beam matching smiles at me and Patrick nods. “Let’s meet in the lobby at 7.00 p.m. and go from there.”

I’m already regretting my decision to do this, but I keep it to myself. Offering them both a tight smile instead, I nod. “Good luck for the race today.”

When they are both out of sight, no doubt patting themselves on the back at their victory, my smile drops and I turn to find Nicky watching me.

He’s on the other side of the garage, and even from this distance, I can see the way his eyes zero in on the bruise on my cheek, the way his lips tip down at the sight of it.

Not wanting to distract him from the race ahead, I turn on my heel and hightail it out of there. The whole point of agreeing to stay away from each other was to make things better, but from where I’m standing, things only feel much, much worse.

Does Nicky feel the same way?

· · · · ·

“The race went from bad to worse for Nicky,” Patrick tells me as we stand with Serena, waiting for the lift to arrive. All our rooms are on the same floor and we bumped into each other in the hallway, on our way down to meet.

“Yeah,” I sigh. Nicky starting P9 was bad enough. But him finishing way down and out of the points was unheard of. It’s like everything that could have gone wrong did go wrong.

“His head wasn’t properly in the game today.”

I don’t agree. Nicky is and always has been a racing driver first. Never once in his long career had he let himself be distracted. To be anything other than one hundred per cent focussed.

“Everyone’s allowed to have a bad day,” I say as Serena nods, glaring at the man next to us to shut up.

“So, where are we going?” I ask to change the subject. My stomach is rolling as I play and re-play Nicky’s race in my mind. It really was that bed.

The lift opens to the lobby and Patrick guides me out with his arm around my shoulder. We’ve not taken two steps when we’re confronted with a looming Nicky, standing at reception, his eyes narrowing at the sight of us.

“Oh, boy,” Patrick mutters under his breath.

We stand still like we’re suspended in time, with Serena shuffling nervously behind us, waiting to see what happens next. I watch Nicky’s eyelids flicker and a muscle jump in his cheek, and my breath gushes out when he turns away.

“Nicky— ”

I take a step in his direction and Serena stops me with a firm grip on my arm. “I wouldn’t.” She gestures to the people mulling around, some watching us with interest, a few with their phone cameras at the ready. “Better to not do that here.”

I swallow and nod. She’s right. Me going to Nicky right now is exactly the kind of drama the tabloids are dying to get their grubby hands on.

“Let’s go.” Patrick ushers me towards a side entrance and the three of us duck outside, sighing in relief when there are no photographers lingering there, waiting to catch us.

“Where are we going?” I ask again as we move away from the hotel. We walk along the river, blending in with the crowds of tourists still milling about after the race.

“We thought we’d keep it simple.” He points to a large open space up ahead of us set up with tables in the middle surrounded by a dozen food trucks. The atmosphere is casual and light and is exactly what I feel like doing tonight.

“I love it.”

Serena grins. “We were hoping you’d say that.”

We do a lap of the food trucks, weighing our options before snagging a table in the middle of the action while we make our decision. The air is thick with delicious aromas from around the globe, and the choice of what to eat tonight feels almost impossible.

“Tacos!” Serena and I say at the same time, after creating an impromptu ‘pros and cons' list. The line at the taco truck was the deciding factor. It was a mile long: evidence of quality food we couldn’t overlook.

“Wow, these are amazing,” I groan through my first mouthful. On a whim, I’d ordered a fish taco, never having had one before, and was one hundred per cent happy with my choice .

“Yep.” Serena devoured her first taco in three bites and was already halfway through the second. We’ve paired our food with a spicy margarita, while Patrick opted for a beer.

“So,” Patrick says after he demolishes his fifth and final taco. “Tell me about Nicky as a kid.”

Since joining the Vortex Motors team, people had occasionally tried to pry for details about what he was like growing up. Mostly, they say they can’t ever picture him as a child. He’s got that way about him.

I swallow the last of my tacos, half tempted to go back and get one more. “I didn’t know him as a kid. He was eight when I was born, so in my earliest memories he was already a teenager.”

“I bet he was a superstar, even then,” Serena says with a warm smile.

“He was to me,” I admit. “He was always my hero.”

“Still is,” she points out.

I nod. “Yeah.”

The silence stretches across the table.

“So, are the rumours true then?” Patrick blurts out, earning a slap across the head from Serena and a heated glare from me.

“Of course not!” I splutter.

“Well, I know you’re saying there’s nothing there,” Patrick concedes with a cheeky grin. “But from where I’m standing, the man is smitten with you.”

Nicky, smitten with me? My heart goes thumpity-thump at the thought of it.

“You’ve got it all wrong. He’s just like that with me. Always looking out for me. Like a big brother.”

The words ring false even to my ears and Patrick snorts in response. “That man does not look at you like a big brother. ”

My eyes bounce between the two of them, waiting for someone to fill me in. How does he look at me then?

“It doesn’t matter, anyway. He’s asked for space, for me to keep my distance.” I scrunch up my rubbish and stand, signalling an end to this conversation. “I’m feeling pretty tired.”

Serena and Patrick look at each other and then at me. “Okay, let’s go.”

I smile, grateful to get away and back to my room. The only place I’m truly safe from interrogation.

We stroll back to the hotel, Serena with her arm around my shoulder, offering silent comfort.

“Well, I think you two crazy kids will figure this out,” Patrick announces as we enter the lobby.

I stop and squint at him, earning only another cheeky smile in response. “And in the meantime, you have us to hang out with while you do it.”

My heart flutters and I link my arm through his, grateful for both of their friendships. “Thanks, guys.”

Serena drops a kiss on my head while Patrick squeezes my arm. “And for what it’s worth, I think Nicky is a lucky guy.”

I don’t respond to this; I can’t respond to this.

It doesn’t matter if there ever was something there between me and Nicky.

Something more than the friendship we’ve developed over my lifetime.

To protect me from the big bad world, like he’s been doing my whole life, Nicky has decided it’s best for us to be apart.

And now all I have to show for our almost relationship is a bruise on my face and an even bigger bruise on my heart.