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She wasn’t awake to say it, but I could almost hear her voice. If there was something real between us, why not wait two more weeks to find out? Why jeopardize my professional reputation and his crucial, final weeks before the most important event of his career and possibly life? We had all the time in the world after the games. That’s what my wonderfully rational, level-headed, middle-aged, happily-married-to-the-same-man-for-28-years mother would say.
With a sigh, I washed up and headed into my bedroom. It was just me, the treadmill, and the magazines my mother had thoughtfully amassed for me, all of which featured Chase. So, of course, I stayed up late reading stories about him.
There weren’t many personal details in them. There was a lot about his swim times, of course, and references to his intriguing persona, but other than the facts that he’d grown up in Massachusetts and he’d attended Stanford, no one seemed to have much. They all made reference to the fact that he’d nearly drowned at 14—human interest angle!—but no one had captured the full story. It was all lined up for me to come in and hit a home run.
There were a few references to Chase as a heartbreaker. The articles made him sound like a sought-after, elusive ladies’ man. No one could catch him, in or out of the pool. Was I missing something? Or was that just hype? Either way, I didn’t like the feeling that I was one in a million, a face in the adoring, worshipping crowd. I felt so removed from the intimacy we’d shared. And I missed him.
But then I heard from him the following afternoon. He texted me another photo, this one a close-up of a lobster holding a beer. Or, at least, a lobster made to look like he was holding one, with his claw wrapped around a bottle.
Emma: Nice lobster
Chase: That’s lob-stah. I’m back in Massachusetts.
Emma: You don’t even have an accent.
Chase: Yes, I’m trying to work on that and I’d appreciate your help.
And, just like that, he put a smile back on my face. A few minutes later, it broadened even wider. I got another photo, very much to my liking. It featured Chase shirtless, all of his perfectly defined muscles on excellent display.
Chase: See how buff your boy is?
Wait, who’d sent that? It clearly wasn’t Chase. I wanted to thank them. What eye candy. I clicked to enlarge it to full screen. The wind was in Chase’s hair, his head turned to the side with a classic strong profile as he kicked it on what looked like a deck. Those shoulders, so broad and strong. Had I really rested my head on them the day before yesterday?
Chase: Sorry, my buddy Liam got the phone for a second.
Emma: Does he frequently take shirtless photos of you?
Chase: Only when he’s trying to piss me off. So, yes.
I loved the thought of him goofing off with friends. He needed that, some time to relax before the entire world turned its attention on him in the pool. I wondered if he was seeing his family as well. He hadn’t mentioned them, only that he was at his father’s house. I somehow got the sense that he wasn’t that close with family.
I knew the bond I had with my parents was much closer than most, and I felt grateful for it. I was their only child, a fact they mentioned frequently, with affection. And emotion, since I was headed to Rio. My mom, in particular, warned me repeatedly about the Zika virus. She wanted healthy grandbabies.
“Wear long-sleeved shirts and pants,” my father advised.
“Or just stay indoors!” my mother took it a step further.
Together, they sent me off on Monday with so much insect repellent spray I thought I had a bottle for every day I’d be in Brazil.
“I know this must be a wild ride you’re on.” Mom hugged me at security, wiping a tear away from her eye. “You’re going to do a great job.”
“Call us.” Dad hugged me, too.
“And text!”
They waved at me as I headed into the long line. They were both wearing matching Team USA 2016 Swimming T-shirts. No one ever accused my parents of being cool. But they were awesome.
“Emma!” my mom called after me. “Enjoy every second!”
§
The hotel in Atlanta looked fancier than the one we’d stayed at in San Antonio. The high-ceilinged lobby featured a gigantic chandelier. The marble floor gleamed. No line to wait in, a staff member greeted me right away and pulled up my reservation.
“Right next door to Mr. Carter, as requested,” she informed me as she handed me my room card.
Right next door? I had a feeling I knew who had made that request. A shiver of anticipation traveled down my spine. I was in for quite a week.
CHAPTER 10
Chase
It was good to see Liam and some of his buddies. They lived there year-round, not like the wealthy seasonal residents. They were the ones who kept things running for everyone else, firefighters and police officers and construction workers. They were always a fun group, easy to hang with, no heavy talk, plenty of joking around.
One of them had gotten married recently. That surprised me, but I guess he was 27, prime marrying time. Almost none of my teammates were married, but a lot of them were younger than me. Some of them were teenagers. At 26, I was still considered right in my prime for swimming, but by the next games I wouldn’t be. That wasn’t the case for a lot of the people I spent all day, every day with. To a lot of them, this Olympics was their first of two or even three attempts.
To me, this was it. And then it would be over. That was why it felt good to spend the weekend with a bunch of people who weren’t obsessed with the Olympics. It was a good reminder that there was a whole life outside of my small, intense world.
I still thought about Emma the whole time. Her laughter, her sweet shy nervousness. And those moments when she lost her reticence under my touch. Her soft skin and her supple, flexible limbs that I wanted wrapped around me. I dreamed about her at night and tried not to talk too much about her during the day. But Liam still picked up on it.
“What’s the deal with this Emma?” he asked me Saturday night as we hung out on his deck having some beers. Root beer where I was concerned.
“Emma who?” I tried. He just looked at me. Damn, I hadn’t even been there 24 hours and I’d already blown my cover.
“She’s a physical therapist, from Florida. Traveling with us for the next three weeks. Working with me until the games are over.”
“Working with you?” He cocked an eyebrow. I raised mine in response. “Interesting.”
Since he’d elected himself captain of the team devoted to getting Chase involved in things other than swimming, he liked the idea a whole lot. Which was why he did asinine things like sneak a picture of me and text it to Emma. And tell me how much he was looking forward to meeting her in Rio so he could have a good chat with her. I knew what that meant. He was issuing a warning. I needed to lock things down with her by then, or he’d play fairy godfather and lock us together in a supply closet. Too late, I’d already tried that move. Only I forgot to lock the door.
I talked to my parents over the weekend as well, but didn’t see them. Dad was in New York where he spent a lot of time. Mom was hosting a garden party on Sunday and had wanted me to come out to her home in Wellesley. Neither of them still lived in the house where I’d grown up. That had been sold after the divorce.
“Thanks, Mom, but I can’t make it.” The last thing I wanted to do was stand around with a bunch of her friends making small talk about my chances for Olympic gold. Even my mom and I seemed hard-pressed to get far past small talk together. Once we got beyond agreeing it had been a hot July so far, yes, I was still training nearly every second of every day and, yes, her wrist was healing nicely after a fall a couple of months ago, we were left without much to say.
