Page 119 of Away We Go

Serena

No.

But Nicky… the comments online about her…

They’ve been brutal.

I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of that. I’m so used to ignoring everything online that I’d forgotten that Cherry takes that stuff differently. My stomach clenches and this time I don’t hold back a curse. Opening my Instagram app, I search for the latest post with the two of us in it. And sure enough, underneath the picture of a breathtaking Cherry walking next to me in Austria are a slew of awful comments. The trolls are trolling. And Serena is right; what they’re saying about her—about my beautiful Cherry—is just vile. Not only are they commenting on how she looks, what she wears, how she behaves, but there is a pocket of fans blaming her for my sudden lack of performance. They’re linking the timing of our relationship with my recent run of poor finishes—they’re putting it all on her!

My gut churns as I close the app, half-tempted to delete it and all its toxicity in the process.

Nicky

I don’t know how to get through to her. How to fix this.

Serena

Just give it some time. It’s been a lot. The relationship and now the team are not doingwell. I think it’s all muddled and linked in her mind.

She’ll be okay.

I latch on to these three words, sending my thanks and a few prayer-hand emojis to my social media manager, before quickly ordering room service for dinner. The water in the shower is no longer running, so I only have a few minutes to get my face under control.

Because I can’t look how I feel when she walks out here. I can’t lookwrecked.

“The bathroom is all yours.” She’s standing in front of me, her slight frame swallowed up in an enormous hotel robe, her thick hair slicked back in a low ponytail, her eyelashes spikey and wet.Has she been crying in the shower?

It feels like a gut punch.

“I need you to be okay.” I’m in front of her in two strides, words tumbling out of my mouth without thought. “Please tell me how to make you okay.”

She runs a gentle hand over my chest, resting it over my thundering heart. “I’m fine, Nicky. Really. Sometimes I get overwhelmed, that’s all. But I don’t want you to worry about me. Focus on winning the championship.”

Her red-rimmed eyes implore me to let it go. To leave it alone. So, I swallow back all my questions and solutions and ways to make it better. Tonight is not the night to fix it; tonight is for comfort. But I’m not letting this go. There’s no way Cherry being with me is going to cause her pain. I’d rather let her go than see her suffer like this.

“Fine.” I pull her in for a hug, more for me than for her, before pressing my lips to her forehead. “I’ve ordered all the food. Why don’t you getVanderpump Rulesset up for us?”

A ghost of her former smile glimmers on her face. “I love that you’re so far down the Scandoval rabbit hole with me. You know, there’s no going back now.”

I laugh, a subdued sound even to my own ears. It turns out watching these reality shows brings her so much pleasure that I end up bingeing them with her. Just to see her light up with happiness. Well, that and they’re so damn addictive. That Tom Sandoval dude is a right piece of garbage, and I’m dying to see Ariana get her revenge.

“I mean, I’m just watching them for you…”

Her giggles follow me to the bathroom, and I cherish the sound, vowing to hear it more often. As I step under the shower, I put together a plan. Starting with speaking to Frieda. She may be focussed and too intense sometimes, but she’s the pro in this arena, and maybe she can help Cherry negotiate this public landscape I’ve thrust her into. I also need Jack and Paul to speak more clearly and more often about what’s driving these latest results, focusing on the team to take the heat off me and how ‘distracted’ I seem to be by the beautiful woman I’ve convinced to share my life.

“I’m going to fix this,” I mutter to my reflection in the fogged-up mirror. “She can’t go on like this.”

Nodding a firm pledge to myself, I leave the steam-filled bathroom and jump on the bed next to her. She has the trays of room service placed at the end of the bed and is relaxing back against the headboard, a bowl of pasta in her lap.

“What?” She tilts her head as she raises her red-tinged brows at me. “What’s that look for?”

I shake my head, biting down on all the words I want to say to her. I want to tell her how in love with her I am. How I only want to make her happy. How she is everything to me. But instead, I settle for a soft kiss on her plump lips and a tender smile.

“Nothing. I just love being here with you.”

Her entire body melts, and this time when she smiles at me, I get the dimple. The dimple that has been sadly absent all weekend long.

“I love…being here with you, too.”

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