Chapter 40
Colin
For the first time in my life, I understood and appreciated that the final stage of the Tour wasn’t contested like the others.
It had never made sense to me that the general classification riders would cruise into Paris together, so no time was made or lost. But today, I needed the gentle journey to come to terms with what I’d achieved – and the affirmation of the crowds on the Champs-élysées to make it all real.
I was rolling into Paris a different person, someone who didn’t have to play a part – except maybe for a joke.
Derek, Amir and Nellie were close by, Derek’s grin growing wild as he took in the throngs of fans lining the iconic avenue of limestone buildings, plane trees and a century of cycling glory.
I would never deserve their support and sacrifices, but I was so glad to have them, to share this moment with them, after everything we’d been through together.
Pedalling with no hands, I raised my arms above my head to whip up the crowd, enjoying the privilege this jersey gave me to demand cheering and wolf whistles.
‘Gallagheeer!’
A fan held a sheet spray painted with my name and a stylised kangaroo and I sent him a thumbs up as I passed. My favourite was an enormous piece of cardboard with the block letters ‘Gallaghers’ and sketches of me and Lori. I tossed the fan my bidon for that.
Approaching the finish line under the yellow arch, my lungs were tight but not with the usual strain I felt this close to the end of a race.
My throat was clogged with two months – or 25 years – of emotions.
In the team area would be my dad and mum, this time brought together by something I’d done, rather than torn apart.
And Leesa would be there too, waiting for me. For me.
She’d be wearing the beetle pendant I’d slipped into her hood yesterday, making her shriek when she found it – but then her eyes lit up at the gift.
She was aware of my flaws and knew how to deal with them.
When I’d sent her fake spam emails from the ‘Colin Gallagher Appreciation Club’, which thankfully didn’t exist, she’d signed me up for the real newsletter of the Saskatchewan Moustache and Beard Association.
But somehow, she’d still agreed to come along on this wild ride with me and I would never take that for granted, would always be desperate to see her.
I was particularly desperate to see her today, for my biggest prank ever – and a long-overdue confession about what I’d done back in September last year.
I’d presented her with a helmet this morning before we set off, with the promise that she’d get the rest of her gift after today’s stage.
Maybe the suspense wasn’t all that kind, but I wanted her feeling the drama with me today and she’d proven she was a good sport.
She had to be, considering everything I wanted for our future.
With a bruised ulna, scabs and scratches, legs like overcooked mutton and a pounding heart, I finished the Tour de France – and rolled into the rest of my life.
After we wiggled through the finish area to the team bus, the boys fell on me, oblivious to the fact that just about every place on my body hurt somehow.
Nellie rubbed my hair into a mess. Amir squeezed until he reshaped my ribcage.
Derek’s shrill cry in my ear as he slung an arm over me just about burst an eardrum.
But I grabbed them back, laughed and crushed them in hugs.
‘You’re not gonna get all emotional on us, are ya?’ Derek asked, looking suddenly alarmed.
‘Save it for your old woman,’ Nellie advised with a grin.
‘Go right ahead and get emotional,’ Amir contradicted both of them. ‘I’ll tease you about it for the rest of your career.’
I gave him a slap on the back that was more a shove.
‘It’s a pleasure to share the prize money with you lot’ was what I said in the end.
I could have said more – with a lot more feeling – but there was someone else I wanted to celebrate with and I’d just caught sight of her, hanging back behind my parents, who were barrelling this way.
‘Gimme a sec,’ I said, darting out of Dad’s path with the skill of a soccer player.
Her eyes widened to see me heading for her, but she shouldn’t have been surprised.
I obviously had some work still to do, proving my commitment – which shouldn’t be a problem, since I had the sign from September, ready to show her.
I scooped her up before she had a chance to say anything.
Her arms clinging to my neck and her hitched giggle of happiness were the final pieces I’d needed for the enormity of the moment to settle in my chest. There were definitely cameras on us, but I didn’t mind, as long as it wasn’t her interrupting this moment with that PowerFuel phone.
I didn’t mind if the world saw how far gone in love I was with this woman.
One kiss became three, growing softer, more intense with every second. She stayed with me, her mouth clinging just as much as her arms, and I knew holding the heavy glass trophy on the podium later wouldn’t feel as good as this.
‘Come on, son! There’ll be time for smooching later.’
I groaned when Dad’s words made Leesa pull back with a guilty – but very cute – blush. Dad probably wanted me to sign autographs, wave for the cameras, do the publicity work that kept the financial gears oiled.
But instead of pushing me towards the waiting media, he wrapped me in a fierce hug, holding on with both arms. ‘You raced a belter, son,’ he said. Was his voice shaking? ‘Taught your old dad a thing or two. I’m happy to see you succeed but, my God, I’m impressed by your fight, even if you don’t.’
I blinked at him, not quite sure what to do with this new phase of our relationship, but looking forward to finding out. Maybe one day he’d even come to terms with the fact that I was going to spend my off-seasons in the US as long as Leesa was there.
Mum kissed my cheek and threw her arms around me. ‘You’ll always have this day, Colin,’ she said softly into my ear. ‘It’s not your father’s or mine. It’s yours. You did it.’
‘You’ll be telling me I can win yellow, next,’ I said with a grin but shook my head to warn her, when she appeared about to say just that.
Her gaze darted to Leesa and back. ‘Looks serious,’ she commented.
I dropped my voice. ‘She’ll be your daughter-in-law one day,’ I said as casually as I could, ignoring the way Mum gaped in shock.
Untangling myself from my parents, I went straight back to Leesa, grasping both of her hands.
‘If everyone can just chill out, I need a moment with Kubicka.’
She eyed me warily.
‘Don’t worry. It’s good,’ I said, a grin stretching off my face that didn’t seem to reassure her. ‘Come with me.’
Leesa
‘If you’re trying to prank me, I’m not sure this is the time,’ I said with a laugh as Colin dragged me around the back of the team bus. There were no cameras around here, which had possibilities. I slid my fingers between his. ‘But if you brought me here to make out, that’s a great idea.’
‘Ahem.’
There might not have been any cameras, but we weren’t alone. I belatedly noticed Doug Ferguson, the chief mechanic, watching us expectantly, holding a gleaming aero bike by the saddle.
It had beautiful paintwork – graduating colours in orange and blue for the team, with white and pink added for a sunset effect.
How I’d loved that look when Harper-Stacked had unveiled it for the women last year.
I approached with a smile, stroking the top bar fondly.
I could immediately tell this bike was my size.
I shot Colin a grateful look. ‘You got Doug to tell you my measurements.’
He shrugged and dipped his head to one side. ‘Not exactly. Look closer.’
Tracing my fingers along the bar, I brushed the remnant of an old sticker just behind the stem, in the place where our names were printed for transport.
The rest of the bike was polished and glossy, but this sticker, peeled off on one end, had been left there.
I thought of that Steve Buscemi sticker years ago, one of the many memories that I was beginning to treasure.
But this old sticker wasn’t a photo. It was the few remaining letters of the name of the person who had piloted this bike.
It read, ‘—bicka.’
This wasn’t a prank. It was a gift. A bike, yes, but more than that.
My bike… I shoved my hand to my mouth as my vision swam with tears.
He was giving me back this part of myself I’d thrown out when it hurt too much.
But I was stronger now, with a future full of possibilities.
I could get back on this bike and remember the losses – and the win.
The win. The Great Ocean Road Race last year.
My gaze snapped up to his. ‘This is—’ I couldn’t finish the sentence. My jaw wobbled and I clutched the handlebars a little desperately.
‘It is. Took a bit to find it, but you can thank Fergie and the team at headquarters for that.’
And Colin Gallagher, who’d been there that day, cheering me on, and I hadn’t realised.
I took the handlebars gingerly when Fergie urged me to. ‘My career was kind of lacklustre, you know,’ I murmured, not minding the truth of that statement just now. ‘Except for that day.’
His arms slipped around my waist and he rested his chin on my shoulder. Doug slipped away with an awkward smile.
Pressing a kiss to my temple, he spoke in my ear, his deep voice with this earnest tone growing familiar. ‘It’s not all about your results. When I watched you ride, there was so much life in you. You glow on a bike – as well as looking fucking hot.’
I elbowed him gently.
‘Is this a fancy way to make sure I keep riding?’
‘I’d like to ride together, but you don’t have to. I can just come back to you. But something about a bike still calls to you, right? I just want you to be happy. I want you to see yourself the way I see you.’
‘Well, I… think you’re going to see me on this bike,’ I joked to stave off the tears that were threatening in earnest. He’d just earned the white jersey, come fourth overall in the Tour de France, but he was still using his spare time to prepare surprises for me and insisted on moving to the States for the winter so I didn’t have to choose between him and my career.
He could be impulsive and struggled with his feelings sometimes, but he’d earned my trust in so many ways and I’d never felt more myself with anyone.
‘Uh, one more thing,’ he continued, his voice low. ‘Don’t laugh.’
I opened my mouth to promise not to, but thought better of it. ‘I’ll try.’
With a roll of his eyes, he fetched a folded and sagging piece of cardboard from behind the bike, looking more uncertain than I’d ever witnessed. ‘I thought you should see this.’
I recognised it before I even saw the rudimentary ‘Go Leesa’ scrawled in black permanent marker. Thinking back to that day in the hospital, in pain – physical and emotional – still brought a twinge of mixed feelings.
‘I was such a dick that day – self-absorbed and insensitive.’ I could hear how much the memory had haunted him in his tone.
‘You’ve apologised in about a dozen ways,’ I pointed out. ‘And I’m still here.’
‘I can’t quite believe it,’ he commented, brushing a thumb over my cheek. ‘I screwed up badly back then, but you need to know why, even though it’s fucking embarrassing.’
‘Hmm?’ I took the sign from him and studied it. I’d accused him of playing a joke on me with this sign, imagining the other side had a picture of a hairy man-eating spider or maybe just a pair of googly eyes, since he’d gone through a period of sticking them onto all my stuff.
He swallowed heavily. ‘Turn it over.’
My skin prickling, I did as he said to find the reverse side scribbled all over, with words written in all caps, some of them crossed out with vicious strokes of the pen.
It was a clumsy attempt at meaning and I saw the struggle, the utter frustration expressed on a single piece of cardboard and if I hadn’t already fallen in love with him, I would have done it then.
I like you.
You’re beautiful.
I dream of you.
I’m going to miss you.
You’re EVERYTHING to me.
Maybe I love you.
It was more than my brain could process, so I reacted on instinct, throwing my arms around his neck and holding on, the cardboard hanging from my fingers. I clutched at his hair with my other hand, wanting to shove him and yell at him, but squeezing him close instead.
After a rough kiss that felt like a sob, I sagged against him as my head spun and my heart expanded.
I felt the deep breath he took before he spoke. ‘It’s always been you, Leesa. For me. I didn’t take it seriously in September – or all the years before – and I made everything worse and I’m still so fucking sorry. But I’m ready now – for this, for us. Whatever it takes. No maybes – I love you.’
Staring again at his mixed-up heart poured out onto the sign, I groped for his hand. ‘I think I felt this, back in September – something of it anyway. I started seeing you.’
‘It was almost too late.’
‘It wasn’t too late. You’re right. I need passion in my life and my work and I need cycling – at least as a hobby. My brain has always been the dominant part of me, but it’s not the only part.’
He slung his arms around me. ‘Your brain and I get on just fine, but I do like all the other parts too.’ There was the cheeky smile I knew well.
‘I might request to stay on the PowerFuel account,’ I said thoughtfully. ‘I think I might be an ass-et.’
That earned me a playful swat on the backside, which I’d known it would.
‘You’re more than an asset. You’re a genius.’ He punctuated his sentence with a smacking kiss on my cheek. ‘Whatever you want to do, we’ll make it work.’
Amazingly, I believed him. ‘We will.’
‘We absolutely will,’ he said, almost aggressively, ‘or I’m quitting.’
‘Do not let your dad hear that!’
I should have remembered that Tony Gallagher had sharp hearing for his team and an uncanny sense of timing.
‘Let me hear what? Get over here, Colin! You’re needed for the podium protocol.
’ He glanced at his watch. ‘And quick smart. I have to drive down to the women’s team tonight or Seb will skin me. ’
‘Go,’ I said, giving him a push.
‘I’ll bring you back a bunch of white flowers,’ he said, flashing his eyebrows at me as he gave me one last kiss.
‘Beware Colin Gallagher bearing gifts. Are they going to spray water in my eye?’
I smiled after him. I wouldn’t mind if they did. Every gift from Colin meant something. Googly eyes on a croissant, bugs in my breakfast, a mug with his face on it. A necklace. A bike. My spark. Stubbornness, pride. Himself.
He’d given me everything.