Chapter Nineteen

As soon as he closes the door behind him I do the least expected thing. I ask Google if he won the match yesterday. He did. I should have known, considering he said he's staying until Monday.

Was I too hard on him? What did he expect anyway? That I wouldn't be angry? That I'd be happy to discover who he is through the tabloids of all things?

After our conversation I feel worse than yesterday. My shoulders are heavy with the number of thoughts in my head. I make myself a cup of strong green tea—no smoothie for me today—and start dealing with the aftermath of my life's mess.

I begin by replying to my family's messages, letting them know I'm ok, that I'm not dating Lucas Lamaire and that, funny enough, I didn't know he was famous. No one believes me, of course, especially Dad.

Yesterday at 8:26 pm

Mum: You were with him when you disappeared on Sunday, weren't you? Those T-shirts on your bed … were his? And the condoms in the trash can too?

Oh my God. Help me.

Today at 6:30 am

Me: Mum! I can't believe you checked my trash can.

Wait! I just realised she has been checking my flat when I'm not home, because on Sunday Luc and I hadn't had sex yet, which means she came over some time during this week. Probably on Monday when I was in the office.

Me: Mum, have you been snooping around my place when I'm not here? Since when?

Mum: That's not the point!

Me: fire and red angry emoji

That's what I mean when I say she's a control freak. I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Yesterday at 8:38 pm

Nate: Thea's saying we gotta do a double date soon.

Today at 6:35 am

Me: Sorry to disappoint her, it won't happen. We're not together, Nate.

Nate: Thea's asking why not …

Me: Thea or you?

Nate: Are you going to answer or not?

Me: We're not together.

We're not. Whatever it was that we had going on in the past week, was just some kind of messing around. Nothing more than that. Now anything between us is completely over.

It is.

Yesterday at 8:48 pm

Dad: Hey love, just checking in on you. Never knew you liked tennis so much. Winking emoji.

Dad: Do you think you can get me an autograph? Or maybe a ticket to watch the finals? Maybe in the player box?

Today at 6:40 am

Me: I don't think so, Dad.

I can't even believe all this. I try not to be rude to Dad, after all it's not his fault, it's my own for never watching tennis with him.

Someone's knocking at the door. Again. It's not even 8:00 am in the morning and it's as though I'm throwing a party. I'm fuming when I open the door already saying, ‘I just need …' but it's not who I think it is, or who, I just realised, I wanted it to be. It's Naomi and Lexi.

Shit.

In normal times, seeing my friends on a weekday would be a highlight; right now, I just want to hide from the world. And I'm honestly not prepared to talk about Luc or admit to them how I'm such a bad friend and good liar.

‘You know, if I didn't love you as much as I do, I'd call you a bitch, but right now I'd be happy if you just give us an explanation about this mess,' says Naomi, storming into my flat.

Lexi gives me a tight hug, and it lasts longer than normal. She knows I need it. She has always been the most sensitive and emotive one. Naomi, is the firm, bossy and reassuring one.

‘First, I can't believe you lied to us about seeing him. Why would you do something like that?' Naomi says as she jumps to sit on the kitchen island.

Lexi goes make coffee. I sit on one of the stools and take a deep breath before I begin.

‘I don't know.' Now I'm talking like Luc. Great.

Naomi stares me down and raises one of her thick black eyebrows, she knows how intimidating she can be when she does that. So I try again.

‘I never get this involved, you know that. On one side I was embarrassed to admit that being with him was different, is, I don't know anymore. On the other side I didn't want anyone to have expectations of me being in a relationship again, you know? Especially because this was going nowhere anyways. I just … I wanted to figure things out by myself.'

There's silence as they both stare at me curiously, as if surprised with my answer. Probably because for once, I'm being honest about this.

‘Just how involved are we talking?' asks Lexi from the counter, as she waits for the coffee machine to do its job—though I don't drink coffee, I keep one for them.

‘Huh. From having a private dinner date at Sketch, to having sex on the kitchen island to him sleeping over. More than once.' I flush with the admission.

‘More than once what, sex on the kitchen island or sleeping over?' asks Lexi.

‘Sleeping over. More than once, yes,' I say, burying my face in my hands.

‘Wait. This kitchen island?' asks Naomi.

Lifting my head from my palms, I nod.

She jumps off the island and says, ‘Damn you, Olivia Charlton, you fucked Lucas Lamaire on your damn kitchen island.'

I give her my best eye roll.

‘I can't believe you let him stay over,' says Lexi, with two coffee mugs in her hand, the steam dissipating in the air just under her nose.

‘Worse. I asked him to stay, and when I did, we hadn't even had sex yet,' I speak burying my face in my hands once again.

‘Who are you?' Naomi bumps her shoulder against mine.

‘Good for you,' says Lexi, innocently, as if forgetting one tiny detail.

‘Is it?' I ask, lamely, lifting my gaze at them.

They exchange glances.

‘How in hell didn't you know who he was and for what plausible reason didn't he tell you when he realised you didn't know?' asks Naomi the question of the week.

I let out a long and slow exhale.

‘I don't watch tennis, I don't follow tabloids or social media. The famous people I know are the ones on TV Series, in movies and fashion. Maybe if he had been on a scene playing tennis with Daniel Craig in the last James Bond movie I'd have recognised him. But …'

They watch me attentively, sipping from their coffee at the same time, waiting for me to continue.

‘As for the reason he didn't tell me, according to him, it felt good to get involved with someone who doesn't know who he is,' I say, rolling my eyes.

‘That makes sense,' says Lexi, getting a stern look from me.

‘What?' she asks as I give her my laser eyes.

‘Are you on his side? He lied to me. He's a selfish bastard.'

‘Technically it wasn't a lie,' points out Naomi, of all people.

‘Oh my God, you're defending him. Both of you.'

‘We are not defending anyone, but the guy must be good to be able to mess up your perfectly controlled world. He deserves the credit, besides, he's fucking hot,' says Naomi, her terrifying eyebrow raised again.

‘Naomi!' I scold her.

‘Just stating the real facts here,' she says.

‘Is that how you two describe my life when you talk among yourselves? A "perfectly controlled world"?'

‘That's not the point,' says Lexi setting her coffee mug on the kitchen island and pulling her golden hair into a ponytail.

‘Exactly. The point is, he's the only guy you've opened up to since Josh. This is a huge thing. So what if he omitted what he does for a living? It's not like he's a gangster or something,' says Naomi matter-of-factly.

Now it's my turn to raise an eyebrow at her, but I get the feeling it's not as intimidating as when she does it because she ignores it completely and says, ‘Besides, he's sorry, he came to apologise.'

‘As if an apology would make any difference right now,' I say.

When I tell them he said he didn't regret not telling the truth from the start because otherwise I wouldn't have given him a chance, they almost melt like butter. I lost the battle, clearly.

‘Okay, we definitely want to know more about your sex life with the tennis star, but right now, my friend, we need to talk about your face being all over the news,' says Naomi.

‘Livvy, everyone is wondering who you are. It won't take long until they find out,' points out Lexi.

To be honest, as soon as I saw my face on those photos I already felt so exposed I hadn't thought that people still don't actually know my name and who I am.

‘I guess putting a name to the face might make things more complicated,' I say, scratching my forehead.

‘It could, yes,' says Naomi.

The three of us look at each other, because there's a name hovering above our heads.

‘But, you know, it will be fine. Do you think that after such a long time he'd still come after you?' says Lexi.

‘I don't know,' I say.

#

Eventually I make it to work. I leave with the girls, and we share an Uber to our respective destinations. The driver, a red haired woman with freckles dusted on her nose and cheeks, keeps watching me from the rear-view mirror.

‘I think I might know you from somewhere,' she says, her eyes narrow as she tries hard to remember from where. I might have an idea, but I don't say anything, and sink a bit deeper on the seat.

‘Hey, you never told me how things have been with Lewis after Saturday's date,' I say to Naomi.

‘You were too busy having sex on the kitchen island,' she teases me, and for the first time since I discovered that the person I had sex with on the kitchen island is famous, I smile. Then the three of us laugh. The driver's still watching us, me, from the rear-view mirror.

‘It has been … interesting,' says Naomi. I can almost see her blushing.

When I'm about to get out of the car, the driver says—more like shouts—‘Oh, I know, I know!' She sounds so excited, her voice so childish. ‘You're dating Lamaire, the tennis player aren't you?'

Oh God.

I basically try to camouflage myself all the way from the Uber to the front door to my desk. I'm glad the few people in the office are too busy to come and talk, but I still notice some look up at me, wink and smile or gesture some talk to you laters on my way.

I have a busy schedule today, with back-to-back meetings. On one hand I'm glad, it will keep my mind occupied. On the other hand, this means I'll see a lot of people today, and for those who are more into tennis than I am, I'll be something close to a tourist attraction.

I'm preparing for my 11:00 am meeting with the other designers, making sure presentations are saved on the cloud and confirming in which meeting room it's going to happen when I receive the Google alert I was hoping I'd never receive. Now the media knows my name, and if they do, the world does too.

UK Gossip Today's Blog

Lamaire's next match is against Dordevic, but his heart match is Olivia Charlton.

I click on it to see what it says.

Everyone has been wondering who the hot brunette Lamaire has been seen with all over London is in the past days. Wonder no more, you gossipers, we have her name figured out for you: Olivia Charlton, a twenty-six-year-old Londoner and nothing less than a lingerie designer working for one of the most luxurious brands in the world, Secretive.

How the two met is still a mystery, one we'll certainly try to find out for you. According to sources the pair is staying in the same building, not far from Wimbledon, in the quiet neighbourhood of Richmond. The question is, is she staying with him or is he staying with her?

Tomorrow Lamaire is playing Wimbledon's semi-finals against Andrej Dordevic. Is Miss Charlton going to be there to support her beau? We can't wait to find out. Who's going to watch the match and be wondering who is going to be at Lamaire's player box cheering for him? We know we will.

Wimbledon News

Lamaire's affair: lingerie designer Olivia Charlton.

Tennis World

Miss Charlton's keeping Lamaire busy out of the court.

Daily Mail

Who's Lamaire's new girlfriend?

They all have photos. Some I've seen before, of me and Luc. Others were taken of myself, alone. I freeze when I see one of myself coming to work on Monday, when I thought I was being watched. I don't know if I feel relieved or furious when I see it.

I don't bother scrolling down, there are way more than that. I also do my best not to click on each one of these headlines and read what's being said—I'm almost late for my meeting. It takes all the self-control I have in me not to have a meltdown and to maintain my focus on the next couple of hours, in which I'll be discussing details about the changes we need to make so that all the designs will be approved by Haley on Monday.

I'm the last one to arrive in the meeting room, which is already occupied by my team of five. I'm used to getting the wow, you look gorgeous today and the love your outfit looks. But I'm not used to get the kind of look that means they know something about what I've been doing in my private life. Because as friendly as I am, I'm not an open book, I'm no public figure, I'm no selfie taker, let alone someone who makes the headlines.

‘Good morning, everyone,' I say, pulling out a chair, ignoring their gazes. As soon as I sit down and place my tablet and notebook on the glassed table, I decide it's best to face the devil now than later.

‘Ok, spit it out, you have five minutes, then we'll focus on what really matters,' I say, looking around with a big sarcastic smile on my face.

‘Is it true?' asks Steph, unable to hide her curiosity despite her insecurity.

Everyone else is waiting for my reply.

‘Partially,' I say.

They don't look happy with my answer, so I do my best to elaborate. ‘We're not in a relationship, if that's what you want to know. He's a friend.'

A friend? God, even I can't believe this lie. Of course I also omit the fact that I didn't know he was famous, that would be the end of me.

They are all grinning, and Caleb chuckles.

‘Friends who hold hands and kiss?' he teases. He winks at me, he knows there's more to the story.

When no one's looking but Caleb, I let out a flushed smile.

‘Are you going to the game tomorrow?' asks Taylor.

‘I don't know about you, but I have a lot of work to do for Monday, so no,' I say. ‘Any more questions?'

No one else feels like speaking out, but I know they're still curious about the whole thing. I attend three other meetings and have no time for lunch whatsoever. People keep looking, grinning, winking and asking a question here and there wanting to know more.

I handle the meetings as professionally as I always do, focused even though there's a little tiny red light blinking inside my brain telling me I'm in trouble. I ignore it for most of the day.