19. Chapter 18 Katrina
M arch 2024
The weekend in Charleston is basically hell.
The charity event on Saturday is a night full of doctors kissing rich people’s asses, and I hate every moment of it. No one was all that interested in the charity of the event, as they prefer to spend the night talking about their lives, trying to one up one another. In these moments, Will schmoozes with the best of them. Normally, I could brush it off as him doing what he needs to do, but I see it differently now. Now I can see that Will wants to be them. He wants to be able to brag about where he vacations and what kind of car he drives.
Deep down I know he’ll be there one day, not because he works hard to take care of people but because he’s power hungry. I don’t want to be one of those wives on the arms of rich doctor husbands who are on the board of vague charities that can never talk about their cause. Spend the rest of my days brunching or getting a facial is not the life I want. I want a life that’s my own.
I stay as long as I can handle it before begging Will to either let me leave or take me home. Unsurprisingly, he opted to stay behind and pretended I had a migraine that needed tending to. When people asked if he should be with me, he waved them off, assuring them I knew how to take care of myself. I order a car for the drive home; thankfully, the driver wasn’t chatty, but it was a woman around my age who gave me a sad, commiserating smile. I hated it instantly.
By the time I walked back into my guest house, I was exhausted. Emotionally and mentally drained from a full day of being ignored by the people I’ve come to care about. Lamely, I check my phone once more after stripping out of my dress and pulling on a comfy pair of pants and tank top. When I see there are still no text messages, I collapse into bed. I knew I’d regret not taking my makeup off in the morning, or brushing out my hair, but that was a problem for Tomorrow Katrina.
Tonight, I just want to sleep and pretend the last thirty-six or so hours never happened.
T he next morning, I wake angry with myself for not taking my makeup off the night before. The fact that tears are tracking down my cheeks by the time I brush out my thick, ever so slightly wavy hair is punishment enough. After I wash my face and pull my hair into a messy ponytail, I change into a comfy pair of jeans and a loose sweatshirt from my college days, then head into the house for lunch with Will and my parents. Normally, I’d do more to get ready to face them, but I can’t be bothered to today.
No one says anything to me as I slip into the house. Mom just tries to hand me a mimosa. With a shake of my head, I grab a sweet tea before bypassing Thomas and Will, who are talking about setting up a day to go golfing, and head into the dining room. Lunch is already spread out, courtesy the cook and housekeeper, but I know better than to start without everyone else.
“You know, Katrina has been making friends down in Columbia.” I turn to glare at Will as he sets his beer down and takes his seat. He smirks back at me until I sink down in my chair across from him. “I’m not sure I like the influence they seem to be having on her.”
“Are these the ones who are using her to fix a house?” Thomas gruffly questions, settling into his own seat. Will nods and he makes an irritated noise.
“Who are these people?” Mom frowns, looking around the table for answers no one really wants to give. “I thought you went out there for a job.”
“That’s exactly my point, Dr. Dalton,” Will continues, ever the ass-kisser. “They’re not her friends, they’re her clients. Blurring this line is just going to derail her on her career path.”
“What would you know about my career path?” I question, stunning everyone in the room.
Thomas sets his steady gaze on me. “Katrina, we just had a meeting about the project last week. You told me everything is on schedule, and you could handle it.”
I shrink into myself at the reprimanding tone, but I don’t back down. “I can handle it. Ignore Will, he’s exaggerating. Everything is on schedule and under budget. It has my entire focus.”
“Then why did you stop texting me that night?” Will presses. “You were out with Bryce’s girlfriend, which I’m assuming is Josie. And Mia was the other friend you were with, right?”
“Who?” Mom’s barely following the conversation, more interested in her third mimosa.
“Just Bryce Clark’s girlfriend and her friend.” Will waves the question off.
Mom’s brow furrows. “Who?”
“You know, Tom, I never got the chance to tell you I know Bryce and Carter.” Will is the only person besides my mother who can get away with calling him Tom.
“I always forget you were a swimmer!” Thomas laughs like being in the sport is laughable. “Got you through college, right?”
“Undergrad, at least,” Will corrects with a shit-eating grin of his own. “I had enough sense to give up and pursue a more meaningful career path.”
“You make it sound like they’ve done so horribly for themselves.” I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest in the way I know Will hates. He says it accentuates my chest more than necessary. I say he needs to get used to the fact that his girlfriend has boobs. “They’re both two-time Olympians, and Carter could be going for a third.”
Plus, they have countless records, national titles, and other accolades I wasn’t even going to attempt to name. While I was doing my best to learn more about the sport, I knew my limited knowledge would only add more fuel to Will’s fire.
“That might be true, but that’s all they’ll ever have. I have a solid career that will provide for me and my wife forever. The two of them have a rundown pool.”
I have the urge to gag at the word wife . I don’t know who he’s planning on marrying, but it sure as hell won’t be me.
“Is that a lucrative business venture?” Mom is handed her fourth—or is it her fifth?—mimosa by our housekeeper, Betty. “It doesn’t sound like it’ll be successful. Who are these people again?”
“No one, Mom.” My mother is dangerously smart and always the epitome of professional, except when she drinks, and she’s well and truly on her way to sloshed. “Just the clients I’m doing the project for down in Columbia.”
“Oh,” she exhales, eyes wide as she takes a drink. “And they have a pool. Right.”
Ignoring her, I turn my focus back to the men in the room. “It’s not about being successful. Bryce and Carter want to provide kids the same opportunities they had growing up. The same opportunities you had, Will. You can’t deny the sport opened doors for you; you literally just said it.”
“Oh, sure, use the advantages the sport provides you, but they’ve made it their entire focus.”
“He makes an excellent point, Katrina,” Thomas says to join the conversation again. “They’ve had a moment or two in the spotlight, but they’ll never have more than that. Look at yourself. You know your place.”
Anger bubbles up inside of me, clawing its way to freedom. How could they not realize how damaging their words are? They’ll never understand what it means to be dedicated to something like this. Something that matters. They can’t see past their egos, and it’s taken many therapy sessions for me to understand I can’t make them change.
To realize that just because someone should love me doesn’t mean they do, nor does it mean I deserve it any less.
I’m used to the biting, underhanded comments, but I’m not used to them being directed at people I care about. People who aren’t here to defend themselves. I’ve always been better at standing up for others than I am at standing up for myself, so it’s really no surprise to feel myself reacting this way.
“You’re wrong,” I bite out. “They are going to be part of history. Eventually, no one will know who any of us are. There’s more than one way to have a legacy and they’ve found theirs.”
Will scoffs. “That’s not a legacy.”
“Then why did you chase it?”
Silence falls around the room, even Betty stops refilling my sweet tea to see his reaction. Thomas and my mom stare at him curiously, but Will looks like he’d about to explode.
“I’m not sure I’m following what’s happening here.” Mom’s frowning as she looks between me and Will, then to Thomas like he somehow has the answers.
I’m not backing down now. “Will was a talented swimmer in college. He had a couple of championship titles, even when to a couple professional meets—”
“I did what my coaches asked of me!” he argues, cheeks flushed. “I had scholarship requirements I had to keep up with.”
“Then why did you have Adair Swimming interview you before the 2016 Trials?” I’m so tired of letting him make me look like an idiot. “You know, the meet that determines whether or not you made the Olympic team? The one that happened after graduation.”
If we weren’t in the presence of my family, I’m sure his clenched fists would have banged against the table. Instead, he just leans toward me, scowling. “How do you know about the article? Did Josie and Mia tell you about it?”
“They didn’t have to. I know how to do an internet search, Will.” I’m so tired of him talking down to me, making me feel small, especially in front of someone else. “You almost made the team. You got third in the 400-meter freestyle.”
“What point are you trying to make here, Katrina?” He goes for casual, taking a sip of his beer. The way his glare becomes even harsher, though, gives him away.
“I’m just confused as to why you’re giving Bryce and Carter so much shit for going after a dream you also chased.” I’m pushing every button possible, but I don’t care. Part of me wishes he’d explode just enough to give me a reason to end it here and now. I want to embarrass him the same way he’s constantly embarrassing me. “Is it because you’re bitter they made it, and you couldn’t?”
He slams his beer on the table with so much force it echoes through the dining room; a small geyser of beer erupts all over the table. My mother flinches. “Let’s step outside for a minute, Katrina.”
I drop my arms, resting them in my lap as I shake my head. He doesn’t want to have this conversation in front of anyone else, but I can’t imagine a better situation. “I’m comfortable here, actually, and you’re avoiding the question. You’ve never had a problem talking in front of them before. Why now?”
Will knows my parents usually take his side in any argument we have, ending with them telling me to be better and more understanding as his girlfriend. I know that wouldn’t change this time, but he won’t come out looking fantastic this time. Which is why he wants to hide the argument away—why he wants to pretend there’s nothing he could do that would be seen negatively.
He grits his teeth. “I think this is a conversation that should be between you and me.”
“But why?” I press. “You have never shied away from talking about your achievements before, so why start now?”
“I don’t know why you’re being so dramatic,” Thomas interjects, confirming what I knew would happen. He’s going to take Will’s side and they’ll team up to make me feel small, just like they always do. “Will was a talented and accomplished athlete, much like our clients. He made the choice to pursue something more substantial in the end, and that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
Will looks smug at the idea of Thomas coming to his defense. “Exactly. You should listen to your stepfather, Katrina.”
Thomas doesn’t give me the chance to say anything, clearly having had enough of our argument. He breaks the conversation up by asking Will if he’d like to see the new car he’d just bought. Will eagerly agrees, and just like that, it’s over. It’s over and I still didn’t get the last word. They’re walking away and I am still dating this utter asshole. And I hate it.
Mom is handed her next mimosa, and I know Thomas is going to have to carry her to the couch soon. “You should be more sensible, Katrina. If you keep speaking to him like that, he’s going to leave you.”
“A girl can dream,” I murmur, taking a sip of my sweet tea.
“What was that, dear?” Mom asks, brow arching.
“Nothing, Mom."