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“Oh, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me,” she said, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Lavinia asked me not to come into the office until everything calms down. She’s still traumatized from when paps overran the school after they found out Scarlett was dating Asher a few years ago. But that’s not a big deal. I work remotely most of the time anyway.”

I nodded, but guilt sat like a stone in my stomach. I couldn’t shake the knowledge that she was in this situation because of me. She couldn’t leave the house because of me. Her family was getting harassed because of me. And there was nothing I could do about it.

“Did you eat already? I made ginger chicken,” she said. “It’s my mom’s recipe. It was my favorite comfort food growing up.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’ve barely eaten all week.”

“Because I’m not hungry.” Again, it came out harsher than I’d intended.

Carina took a deep breath. When she spoke again, there was a controlled edge to her voice. “I understand you’re upset, and rightfully so, but snapping at me isn’t going to make any of this easier. I’m on your side. Talk to me. You’ve basically locked yourself in your room since we got back to London, and⁠—”

“Talking was what got us into this mess,” I snapped. I wanted to snatch the words back the minute they left my mouth, but it was too late.

Carina reared back like I’d slapped her. I didn’t have to elaborate for her to pick up on what I meant. Everything had erupted because we’d been careless with our relationship in public and gotten caught on camera. If it hadn’t been for that fucking video of us in South Africa, none of this would’ve happened.

I wasn’t blaming her; I was blaming myself. I should’ve known better. Hell, I had known better, but I’d ignored my better judgment because I’d wanted her that much. I still did. I just wasn’t sure I deserved her anymore.

My chest tightened to the point where it was impossible to draw a full breath. “You eat without me,” I said, looking away. I couldn’t stand the hurt and disappointment in her eyes. “I just need some time alone to think.”

Carina didn’t argue.

I heard her walk away, her footsteps fading and eventually disappearing altogether. My teeth ground together hard enough to hurt. I had to fight not to chase after her so I could apologize, tell her I didn’t mean it, and beg for her to stay. She was one of the few good things left in my life, and I was pushing her away.

But her life had become a nightmare because of me, so maybe it was better that way—for both of us.

CHAPTER 45

CARINA

I watched the World Cup final alone that night. It felt wrong not to share the last match with Noah, but he’d been in such a foul mood that I was worried it would remind him of his painful exit from the tournament. His shoulder had improved, but it was far from fully healed.

Besides, I couldn’t get his earlier words out of my head. Talking was what got us into this mess.

I stared at the TV. The match was tied and going to penalties. England versus France. Asher versus Vincent.

Scarlett and Brooklyn were there, cheering their partners on, and I was here, trapped in my room with sad leftovers. The ginger chicken didn’t taste as good as my mum’s, and even the house seemed depressed. Noah and I kept all the curtains drawn in case anyone tried to sneak a candid with a telephoto lens, and the rooms felt unnaturally dark and gloomy.

Talking was what got us into this mess.

He was right. Our date to Boulders Beach was what’d kicked off this media frenzy, and though I didn’t necessarily regret what had, at the time, been a beautiful morning, I did regret what it’d led to. The coolness in our relationship, Noah shutting down and pulling away. External problems aside, that was what frustrated me the most.

I could handle the slander and the invasion of privacy. I could even handle the onslaught from my parents, who’d called me every day since the news broke, bombarding me with questions about Noah and demanding I move back to Liverpool immediately. I’d managed to calm them down and convince them not to hop on the next train to London, which wouldn’t help anyone involved. All of that, I could take. But I couldn’t handle dealing with these problems alone.

Onscreen, the camera panned to a close-up of Asher’s face as he prepared for his penalty kick. He was England’s first kicker. It was an intense match, and he was drenched in sweat, but he also held the impressive distinction of having never missed a single penalty in his entire career.

He didn’t miss this one either.

The ball sank deep into the net, and the stadium erupted. The camera showed a quick shot of Scarlett screaming and cheering in the VIP box before it refocused on Vincent, who was up first for France. He, too, scored a penalty.

The distinct ache of nostalgia crept through my chest. How I wished I were there with them. I missed the headiness of our trip, when everything had been fresh and fun and carefree. Noah and I had been entrenched in our honeymoon phase, and I’d been convinced nothing could touch us.

It was funny how much could change in a month.

I was still excited about the final match, but I’d be lying if I said the media mess and my problems with Noah didn’t dampen my mood.

However, my spirits lifted somewhat as the penalties continued. France had missed one of its shots, and if England put this one in…