Chapter Twenty

I kept my phone turned off the entire day. It was the right decision, because right now, as I'm headed back home, I turn it on and find an atrocious number of Google alerts, text messages, and calls. The only one I decide to give my attention to is from Luc.

Today at 11:15 am

Immune to tickles: I'm sorry your name's out. I know you don't want to, but we need to talk.

Immune to tickles: It's important, especially for you.

Do I have a choice? Maybe he has some kind of magical plan to undo it all. I just want my normal life back. I just want to go back in time; rewind the tape to when I had control over my life. First he messes up my routine—okay, I let him. Then, the media takes control of the rest.

I've been fighting so hard to avoid changes and getting out of my comfort zone, and for what? I didn't even need to look for it. It found its way to me, through Luc.

Today at 6:33 pm

Me: I'll be home in an hour.

Immune to tickles: I'll meet you there.

Note to self: consider changing his name on the contact list. Maybe deleting it?

I get home a little bit over an hour later. He's sitting on the steps next to my door, the same ones where he saved me from a possible disastrous fall just a few days ago.

‘Hey,' he says, immediately standing up.

It looks like he doesn't know where to put his hands, but only for a brief moment. He puts them in his pockets when he realises I'm not greeting him physically.

‘Hey,' I say, avoiding his gaze. Better safe than sorry, I don't want to succumb to his magnetic blue eyes ever again.

I unlock my door and leave it open for him, but he stands outside.

‘Do you mind if we go to my apartment?' he says as I place my purse and keys on the kitchen island.

I look at him, puzzled. I just realised I've never been to his apartment before, not only during his stay, but ever. Not even when Mr. Sorensen used to live there.

Noticing my confusion, he says, ‘I was hoping we could talk to my media advisor, Margot.'

Of course he has a media advisor. Wait, Margot? The same one he was on the phone with on Saturday night?

I raise an eyebrow at him, not sure what this conversation will involve, but since I'm in need of advice on what to do with the media, I don't protest.

‘It's her job to advise what we should communicate to the press. She might be able to help you. You know, with keeping your privacy,' he says.

‘Or what's left of it.' I don't mean to sound so snappy, but I do.

Our eyes meet, and I'm in dangerous territory. His usual messy hair looks even more perfect, his smell of sex is already lingering in the air and finding its way through my airways. Only now I realise I miss him. In my bed and cooking in my kitchen, and … keep it together, Olivia.

‘So?' he says, his eyes hopeful.

‘Fine. Let's do this,' I say, not in an excited way. I sound like I'm being taken to be tortured.

I follow him up the stairs and on the last steps he says, ‘I forgot to mention, my parents are here.'

Fuck me.

‘Are you kidding me?' I say, freezing where I am, considering going back to where I came from.

‘They don't bite,' he says with a shy innocent grin, the same one from our first encounter in the lift. My heart considers rioting.

I close my eyes and hesitate for a moment, then I decide to keep following him.

I was so not prepared for this.

He opens the door and it feels like my heart's beating at the speed of light.

I see Maurice talking to a blond woman by the window, she must be Margot, because she looks too young to be Luc's mum. On the couch must be his parents, and talking to them, standing, is Jules. Everyone stops their conversation when they notice our presence in the room.

‘Hey, Olivia,' says Jules, already walking toward me with a happy smile washing over his face.

He gives me a kiss on the cheek. He's so cheerful I wonder if he realises how badly I'm taking this whole situation.

Their parents get up from the couch and walk in my direction. The smile on their faces tells me they might be excited to meet me. I have no idea why that would be, but I take it. Luc's got his mum's dark hair, but his stature, dimple, perfect nose and eyes, from his father.

‘Olivia, it's a pleasure to meet you,' says his mum first, giving me a hug. She smells so good and bold, I'm pretty sure her scent will stick to my hair where she touched, until I shower again.

‘Nice to meet you, Mrs. Lamaire,' I say, politely.

I notice Luc's flushed face in my peripheral.

‘Oh, no. Please, call me Annette, dear,' she lifts her hand to my cheek and gives it a light pinch, as if she wants to make sure I actually exist. I smile back.

Then his father pulls me into a hug.

‘You look even prettier in person,' he says.

I feel my whole face burn.

‘Papa,' says Luc, clearing his throat.

I see Jules smirking from behind his dad.

‘I'm Dominique,' says his father, now looking me in the eyes. ‘But call me Dom, chérie,' he winks at me.

I don't know where to put my hands. This is so awkward and unexpected I feel a bit overwhelmed.

I'm used to being introduced to a lot of people in a room. I'm good at remembering names and faces, and most of the time I know exactly what to say. I also can tell when someone likes me or not. Maurice doesn't, I can tell by the sceptical look he's giving me, and the lack of interest in offering me a friendly smile. I guess he sees me as the worst distraction Luc could have right now. As for Margot, I can't tell because she seems neutral, like nude colours and Switzerland. She chooses to shake hands, no hugs, no kisses on the cheeks like the French normally do. Once we're done with the introductions, Luc's mum grabs her purse and plants a kiss on his cheek.

‘We'll leave you to it then. Jules's taking us to explore London a bit,' says Annette, in her strong accent, pronouncing beat, not bit. She then kisses my cheek too.

Luc's eyes meet mine and he gives me a half-smile. I'm not sure what to do now. If I smile back would it mean I'm telling him I'm ok with all the mess going on? Or just that I find his mum the sweetest? I smile, but only after I leave his gaze.

‘I hope to see you sometime soon, chérie,' says Dom.

Once his parents and brother are gone, Maurice and Luc exchange glances and he too leaves us alone with Margot, who goes straight to the point.

‘Olivia, I'm Luc's media advisor, I guess you know what that is,' she says.

I nod.

‘Good, I'm here to provide support and suggest a few options on how to deal with the media, and what can be said and done, at least for the time being.' She glances at Luc, some words unspoken between the two of them.

She suggests we sit. I pick one of the big chairs facing the couch, where Luc and Margot are. Luc holds my gaze for a moment, he looks serious, focused, but worried. I fidget with my fingers, my index running along the thumb.

‘Luc tells me you want to preserve your privacy,' says Margot.

Obviously.

I nod.

Luc moves forward and props his elbows on his legs and interlace his fingers as he watches me attentively.

‘Of course, now it's too late to undo the damage already done. There's no way we can make the media delete all the images and make people forget your name. Well, they might eventually, but not now.' She clears her throat before continuing. ‘Before deciding which approach we're going to take to deal with the media, it's important you two define the level of your relationship.'

I'm sorry, what?

She looks at Luc, then at me, and continues, ‘As I said to Luc a few days ago, when the paparazzi contacted me about seeing you together last week—'

‘What? Did you know about this?' I interrupt Margot and stare at Luc.

‘Olivia—' he seems to reconsider, guiltily, and says, ‘Yes, I knew, I'm sorry.'

Margot's looking between me and Luc, then rushes to intervene before we get into a different kind of discussion.

‘As I was saying, if this is just a fling and you'll lead your separate ways, or if you're still not sure to which level you're taking your relationship, you can't be seen together in public anymore, unless that's what you want. But unless we communicate that you two are officially a couple, they'll keep speculating and they won't leave you alone, Olivia.'

Margot is incredibly professional, not because she's wearing a suit and looks busy with an iPad and two different phones on top of each other on her lap, but because of the way she talks about our affair as if it were a business deal. To me, she seems more like a lawyer than a media advisor.

‘If you decide to commit to each other and pursue this relationship, you still need to find a common ground and choose whether you want to make it public or not,' she says this so calmly and impartial it makes me want to crawl out of my skin. ‘And that's where our plan comes in.'

The idea of pursuing a relationship hasn't crossed my mind, so when I hear her saying that, my eyes involuntarily search for Luc's, and they have a gleam of … hope? I believe he's had a debrief with Margot before I got here, it's as if he already knows what she's going to say.

I don't say anything, I let her finish her speech and avoid meeting Luc's eyes.

‘If you decide to make a relationship public, the media will harass you for a few months, but eventually they will tire. You'll then be able to have a public relationship, but at the same time, private, giving them what info when you want to.'

Silence. I stare at anything but him. I know my face is flushed just at the thought of being his girlfriend. So much for enjoying not having to label what was going on between us.

‘If you decide to keep a relationship fully private, it will be a hell of a job to contain leaks and paparazzi. Not saying I can't help you, but it will depend more on you than me. It's gonna be a lot of work from your side to watch your backs all the time. In this case you won't be able to have a normal couple life walking hand in hand on the streets. It also goes without saying that you, Olivia, won't be able to attend Luc's matches.'

God, as if a relationship with someone famous like he is would ever work. The way Margot says this all feels like she's laying all the options I have in my life and I need to pick the one that's less worse. I inhale deeply and hold the air inside for longer than normal. I can't even think past today, let alone think about a possible relationship with a famous tennis player and worrying whether I'll be able to attend his matches or not.

Fuck me.

They're both watching me, expecting me to say something. So far, all I did was listen, fidget, cross and uncross my legs, sigh and try to breathe.

‘I don't know what you expect me to say,' I sigh.

Margot watches us both in neutral silence. Luc closes his eyes briefly and runs his fingers over his forehead.

‘Then, there's also the option which involves you deciding not to pursue a relationship. In this case it's pretty simple, I'll prepare an official press release declaring you're both only friends. But then, you can't be seen together again, or it will mess up things even more,' she says.

I wonder if that's how it works with all the stars when there are rumours about their love life. This is unbelievable. Right now my head is unable to process all this.

‘I'll give you two some privacy. We can talk about it tomorrow, or whenever you're ready. But I'd suggest you do it soon. If Luc wins tomorrow, the media will be all over him, which means you too, Olivia.' She stands up, making us both stand up too.

I guess one of her job descriptions might include dropping a bomb and leaving before it goes off.

‘It was a pleasure to meet you, Olivia,' she shakes my hand again.

I almost beg her to stay, because I don't want to be alone with him right now. I might not be as strong as I was this morning or have the same will power.

‘Luc, give me a call. We also need to prepare for tomorrow's press conference,' she also shakes his hand.

As soon as she closes the door, it's only the two of us in this enormous penthouse and an even bigger elephant in the room. Only now I notice the sports equipment in the opposite corner of the living room, which is as big as my flat. I never realised that this penthouse occupied the entire floor.

‘I know it's too much to take in,' he says.

‘It is,' I sigh.

‘I'm sorry it has to be this way. I know it's complicated,' he says.

‘Very, especially when you haven't been honest about any of this.'

‘I'm sorry,' his eyebrows furrow.

‘So the phone call, on Saturday—'

‘Yes. She called to ask me who you were because some reporter she knows asked her directly. I told her to try and keep the photos from leaking,' he says. I can tell by his pained expression and his low voice that this was hard for him to admit.

I sigh in frustration. I don't even know if I still have the energy to discuss this any further.

‘I like you, Olivia.' Bang, my heart. ‘I like you a lot. Enough to give you space and respect that you might not want to see me again.' The way he says it squeezes out every drop of blood in my heart. He sounds as hurt as I feel.

He steps closer. It becomes hard to breathe through this tension.

‘This is a mess, Luc. I don't want to have to discuss the level of our "relationship" with other people, especially when we don't even know what it is,' I let out.

‘I know. I don't either,' he pulls me into a hug. I'm so weak and tired and needy I don't fight it. Instead, I listen to his heart beating against my ear and take in his smell. His nose gets lost in my hair and one big hand finds its way on the small of my back, the other in the nape of my neck. The touch reminds me of how much I crave him, even though I shouldn't.

‘I need time to think. I can't do this right now,' I say.

He breaks our hug and holds my face, his eyes meeting mine. Time stops for a moment, and everything else is nothing compared to the intensity of his gaze. It's taking a lot of effort not slip my hands in his hair and smash my mouth against his.

‘Good luck tomorrow,' I say instead, and take a step back. I don't want things to get even more complicated than they already are.

I turn to leave, and I hear him sigh.

‘Thank you,' he says.

Why do I get the feeling that my heart breaks a little more with every encounter we have now?

#

Just as I close the door behind me, Maurice is coming out of the lift.

‘Hey,' I say, politely.

He studies me and his bright blue eyes tell me he's pondering whether he should say hello back or just ignore me.

‘Miss Charlton,' he says, too formal. It's kind of weird to hear him call me that. Should I call him by his last name too? I don't even remember it anyways.

We cross in the hall, each one of us going our separate directions. Then he stops on the way and says, ‘You know, he doesn't need drama right now.'

I turn my back to face him, ‘Excuse me?'

‘This championship is his dream, you're not helping.' He shoves his hands in his shorts pockets. His face is so judgemental I want to slap it. You know, I'm not good at pretending but I'm very good with answers at unrequested comments at the wrong time.

‘Did you know I didn't know who he is?' I say.

‘Yes.'

‘Then you too should be blamed for not helping him achieve his dream.'

‘Oh, I told him from the start this was a bad idea.'

‘Apparently your opinion wasn't enough.'

His smirk is sarcastic. I narrow my eyes at him, daring him to say more. He doesn't.

‘Good night, Maurice,' I say, cutting the conversation short because I just don't have the energy to continue it.

I hear him shutting the door when I begin walking down the steps to my flat. I feel my blood boiling through my veins.

When I get home I pour myself a very chilled rosé in the hopes it will chill me too. I drink it straight down as I look at the dried up flowers Luc gave me, still in the vase on the kitchen island. I'm so tired and mentally drained I can barely stand. I look at my phone and it's still full of messages and unanswered calls. Everyone that matters already knows I'm alive, all the rest can get an answer another time.

After a long shower I literally throw myself onto my bed. I can feel my brain pulsing, trying to organise thoughts and memories and emotions. It feels like it's an overworked computer about to shut down. I just want tomorrow to be better.