Epilogue
Liam
The water was freezing cold at five in the morning.
I dove in anyway, welcoming the shock and the way it made my lungs seize and my skin prickle. Maybe if I was cold enough, numb enough, I wouldn’t feel the rest of it.
I started my first set of butterfly, the stroke that had won me gold and the one that had defined my entire life. My arms cut through the water efficiently.
My time flashed on the board when I touched the wall. Fifty-five point two seconds.
Dammnit.
It should have been fifty-three point eight seconds.
Coach Ricardo wasn’t there, but I could feel his disappointment anyway. I could imagine the way his jaw would tighten, the subtle shake of his head, and he would say,
‘This isn’t how elite athletes perform, James. What the hell is wrong with you?’
Everything. Everything’s wrong with me.
I pushed off the wall harder, trying to out-swim the thoughts. But they followed me down, relentless.
Deepika.
The first time I had seen her after years was at Ethan and Kiara’s engagement party. She had walked in wearing that golden dress, and I had forgotten how to breathe. She was beautiful, of course, but she had looked at me with such pure hatred that I felt it like a physical blow.
Eighteen years of bad history in a single glance.
I had thought we were enemies and thought we would always be enemies.
But I had been so fucking wrong.
My stroke faltered as water rushed into my mouth. It was chlorinated and bitter. I surfaced, coughing and gripping the lane rope.
The last time I had seen her was days ago, early in the morning. She was getting ready for her meeting, humming while she dried her hair. I had watched from the doorway, mesmerized by something so simple. Deepika in my bathroom, using my towel, and completely at home in my space.
Our space.
She caught me staring and smiled. “What?”
“Nothing. You’re just beautiful.”
She rolled her eyes and threw the towel at me. “Sap.”
I had kissed her long and slow, tasting the mint toothpaste and coffee that she’d already had. She had melted into me, hands fisting in my shirt, and I had thought, ‘This. This is what happiness feels like.’
But three hours later, she was gone.
I dove under again, trying to wash away the memory. But it clung to me like the water itself.
Every moment we had fallen in love played on repeat.
The day at the gym where I had taught her to swim when she had donned that black bikini, trusting me to hold her while she floated. The vineyard in Napa with grapevines and stars and her gasping my name while I lost myself inside her.
And how she had looked at me and said, ‘I think I love you too’.
Think.
Not know, but think. Maybe that should have been my first clue.
I touched the wall again and checked my time. Fifty-four point nine seconds.
Fuck.
My arms burned, shoulders screamed, and my lungs felt like they were filled with concrete instead of air.
I didn’t care and kept swimming.
Fifty laps or a hundred. I lost count somewhere around one-twenty as my body moved on autopilot while my mind spiraled.
Had I imagined it? The way she looked at me when she thought I wasn’t watching. The soft sounds she made when I touched her and the mornings waking up tangled together, her hair in my face, her breath warm on my neck.
Had it all been a performance? Had she been playing a role the same way I had supposedly been playing one?
But I wasn’t playing. Not for a second, and not since…
I didn’t even know when it had stopped being fake. Maybe the moment she had pushed me into that pool when we were eight. Maybe the Valentine’s Day closet when I had gotten hard from hating her. Maybe every single moment in between.
All I knew was that it was real, even though she had left.
I surfaced, gasping, and checked the clock.
In four hours, I had to be on a plane to San Diego for the Indian wedding of Ethan and Kiara.
And in a few days, I’d stand beside my best friend and watch him marry the love of his life, smile for photos and give a speech about love conquering all.
And the whole time, I would be thinking about Deepika.
The pool was empty except for the sound of filtration systems and my own ragged breathing.
Eighteen years ago, I’d made Deepika Sharma lose something precious in a pool.
Today, I was drowning in the fear that I might have lost her for good.
And this time, I didn’t know how to dive and bring her back.
I didn’t know if she would even want me to try.
I pulled myself out of the water, muscles shaking, and sat on the edge. Water dripped from my hair and down my face.
I stood up, grabbed my towel, and started walking toward the locker room.
Soon, I’d see her, and I have one chance to figure out what the hell had gone wrong.
One chance to fix this before our contract ended, and she disappeared from my life forever.
I just hoped it wouldn’t be too late.
Click HERE to read Explicit Bonus Scene
Or type this in your browser:
DON’T MARRY YOUR NEMESIS: Nothing says “I do” like getting pregnant by your lifelong nemesis.
Read Deepika and Liam’s HEA in Don’t Marry Your Nemesis!
FREE BOOK: He is my only chance at freedom. She is the daughter of my enemy. Will their love survive?
“I am asking you to marry me.”
“Are you asking or ordering, Sultan?”
“I am asking, Princess.” I smiled at her.
“For now.”