Chapter 23 #2
“I think you need to redefine your definition of a fairy-tale creature.” His tone is light and sarcastic, making me smile and relax. It’s so easy to talk with him, which puts me at ease knowing this co-parenting thing isn’t going to be as hard as I thought.
I signal him to go on as I roll my eyes playfully, and he smirks but does as I ask.
“It was boring, honestly. As a kid, we had certain events we had to attend when all we wanted to do was play. We couldn’t go to birthday parties or social events unless we brought our entire security detail.
My brothers and I had more freedom than Camille did, which is bullshit if you ask me.
But since she was the only daughter, my parents were protective of her,” he remarks, his smile turning into a grimace.
“Then, when I got older, my dad would drag me into his council meetings, and I nearly fell asleep every time. Politics bored me. The whole lifestyle did. But Antoine and Simon always loved it, and my dad made it known he resented me for not being like them.”
“You mentioned you still talk to one of your brothers, right? What about your parents?”
“Matheo’s the only one I talk to. He’s always been down to earth like Camille and me. My parents, on the other hand, I don’t speak to at all.”
His answer makes me think of my mom and how I had always wished she were around more. Yet his parents were there, but not really there. And I don’t know which is worse.
I swallow down the ache in my throat at the memories of my mom.
“So you traded one fame for another kind of fame,” I say after a sip of water, wanting to understand him more.
He sets his fork down as he pauses eating and says, “I guess. The kind of fame I had back home was…too much. Every move was being watched. I had to perform a certain way, and my actions reflected the crown. Whereas the fame here is different. Yes, I’m being watched by fans, but it’s not with such scrutiny.
Unless I were to fuck up, of course. But it’s nice just being myself and doing what I love.
All I have to do is stay out of trouble, which is easier to do now that I’m not rebelling against the constraints of my life. ”
I nearly spit my chicken out. “You? A rebel?”
Quentin side-eyes me, but shakes his head as he chuckles. “You’re not the only one with a rebellious streak. I see you’ve had your fair share of disagreements, video compilations of you telling off paparazzi, wild fans and such.”
If only he knew about my most recent disagreement, the one that cut my career short. Well, for the time being, hopefully.
My body instantly heats with embarrassment as the memory of what happened comes crawling back, wrapping itself around my chest and squeezing so hard that it aches. No one besides Clara and Kaya know, and no one else ever will. Not if I want to make it back to the Olympics in two summers.
I wasn’t embarrassed about how I reacted. I was embarrassed about the lie I was protecting because of my own selfish desires. How fucked up am I not to go forth and tell the press about what really happened with my coaches and their threats, all because I so badly want to compete again?
I’m the girl who never puts up with any bullshit, and yet here I am, putting up with the biggest kind of bullshit ever. It’s so unlike me, and it drives me crazy, but I always suppress the thoughts because I’m too scared to do anything about it.
It’sa debate for another moment because right now all I want is to escape this conversation and slip into bed where he can’t see the coward I am.
“I’ve been in situations where I had to defend myself,” I respond curtly, my tone cold and biting.
Quentin sets his plate down as concern mars his face. “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”
“You didn’t,” I tell him as I soften my tone, because it isn’t him. It’s the situation itself being brought up on an already shitty day. “I think my long day is catching up with me. I’m going to wash the dishes and head to bed. Thanks for dinner.”
I’m about to stand when Quentin moves quicker than me, grabbing my plate along with his. “No, I’ll wash up. You go get some rest.”
My arms cross under my chest as I stand in front of him as he towers over me. “I’m not living here without helping around the house.”
“You are growing our child and you’ve had a stressful day. Please go relax and take care of yourself, okay?” he pleads, his tone edging on tired, because I’ve fought him on everything today and he’s probably exhausted. I don’t blame the poor guy.
“Fine,” I relent with a sigh. “Thank you again. Good night.”
It’s only just past seven o’clock, but I’m mentally drained and want to sleep it off.
“Good night,” he says with a crooked smile. “I’ll be gone in the morning for my afternoon game tomorrow, so if I’m not here, that’s why.”
“All right, good luck,” I say as I walk away, up the stairs and into my room.
Once I’m alone, all I can think about is how quickly a day can go from good to bad.
As if I don’t already have enough on my plate.
I need to plan how I’m going to announce my pregnancy to the world because being a public figure means you owe the world an explanation. Otherwise, they’d draw up their own stories.
I need clothes. I need to figure out where I’m going to live once my time here is done.
Everything in my life is a mess right now, and yet, knowing I have someone else to take care of on top of myself motivates me more than anything. I’d never let this child grow up the way I did. It’s going to have two loving parents no matter what.
I may not know who I am anymore with gymnastics being taken from me for the time being, and with literally all of my stuff gone, it’s as if it didn’t exist. Like that version of myself didn’t either.
All I know is that I’m going to have to figure it out. Life does that to you, forces you to figure shit out in the middle of the chaos.
While I hoped I’d return to who I once was, I have a feeling that isn’t going to happen.