Chapter 11

“I already told you what I want in London,” I said.

He turned to face me. “Still?” he asked.

“I don’t know, Marcel. Geeze, I’m just trying to joke around here, lighten the mood a little bit. I’m not trying to start a fight. Probably there are gonna be a ton of hot guys there, and we both know I’m not gonna shoot my way to victory.”

“So you’re gonna flirt with all the other guys? Sleep around?”

“Hey, at least I’d have a shot at a medal in that event.” I winked.

Marcel was not in a joking mood, and I hurried after him when he fled the kitchen, catching the brunt of the slamming bedroom door with my shoulder.

“Marcel, honey, I was just teasing.”

He was turned away from me, trying to snuffle back his tears. “It’s funny to you? You’ve been using me this whole time just to get, what? A swimmer? A fucking gymnast?”