“Relax,” he said wryly, swirling the drink in his hand. “You look like I’m about to interrogate you. I just figured we should talk.”
My stomach tightened, but I nodded.
He leaned back, studying me with a grin that wasn’t unkind. “People like to make stories out of nothing. Liv? She’s family to me, always has been.” He raised a brow, tone light but pointed. “You do know I’m gay, right? Pretty sure half the tour does.”
The breath I hadn’t realized I was holding escaped all at once.
Nico chuckled at my face, shaking his head. “Yeah, thought so. Look, she’s yours, Cadiz. Whatever noise is out there, don’t let it get in your head. Liv deserves someone who’ll fight for her without flinching.”
Something in me eased, the knot I’d been carrying for months loosening for the first time. “Thanks, Nico,” I said quietly.
He clinked his glass lightly against mine. “Don’t thank me. Just don’t screw it up.”
And then fireworks split the Paris sky. Bursts of gold and silver bloomed overhead, painting the crowd in light. Olivia’s eyes sparkled as she pushed through a few lingering friends, weaving gracefully until she found her way to me.
“This is…” Her voice caught, awe threading every syllable as she reached my side.
I stepped closer until there was no space between us. “It’s for you.”
She blinked, eyes shimmering, and gave me that little sideways grin that always made my chest squeeze. “You make it sound like I didn’t already know that.”
I laughed softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “Well, maybe I like reminding you. Keeps you humble.”
Her smile softened, and then she whispered it, the words I’d been dying to hear. “I love you.”
I pressed my forehead to hers, the fireworks painting gold across her face. “I love you too,” I murmured back, fierce and certain. “More than all of this. More than anything.”
“Say that much, and I might start expecting the rest of my life to be perfect.” She laughed against me, soft and breathless.
“I’m warning you, I’m chaotic. But with you? Maybe I’ll try.” I teased, wiggling my eyebrows.
Her hand found my cheek, and then her lips pressed to mine, slow, steady, full of everything we’d been holding back. The fireworks thundered above us, but it didn’t matter. The only thing I felt, the only thing that existed, was her.
CHAPTER 35
OLIVIA
The morning of the Closing Ceremony felt strange. Half the Village was already gone. Athletes dragged duffels behind them like tired ghosts, accreditation lanyards clinking softly, pins knocking together like the last keepsakes of a summer camp no one wanted to admit was ending.
Nico caught me early, fingers closing around my wrist before I could disappear into the crowd, insisting we detour to the cafeterianow,before everything shut down, and apparently, that was a crisis he refused to risk missing.
“Trust me,” he said, steering me straight toward the cafeteria. “One last chocolate muffin before we go home. They’re the only reason I survived the last two weeks.”
I laughed, letting him tow me along. “Only you would wake me at this hour for cafeteria pastries.”
“Elite pastries,” he corrected, already peeling back the wrapper like it was something sacred. He took a bite, sighed dramatically, then looked up at me with a grin. “Also figured you’d appreciate five minutes off Cadiz-watch. She and Archer have gone full twin mode.”
I snorted, sliding onto the bench across from him. “That bad?”
I’d seen the twins earlier, already deep into their own version of goodbye. They were swapping pins with anyone who paused long enough: a gymnast from Brazil, a judoka from Japan, a whole group of swimmers trading stories along with badges. Archer was animated, gesturing wildly; Alex laughed easily, relaxed in a way she rarely allowed herself. They looked like kids again.
“Oh, catastrophic,” he said. “They’ve got the pin binders out. It’s international diplomacy out there.”
I glanced around the hall. Athletes were scattered in loose, pins changed hands mid-joke, phones were passed back and forth, Instagram handles typed in with exaggerated care, numbers saved with promises no one wanted to think too hard about yet. People who’d been rivals a week ago now stood shoulder to shoulder, trading stories, trading plans, trading pieces of a version of themselves that only existed here.
Nico followed my gaze, softer now. “Closing morning does that,” he said. “Everyone’s suddenly sentimental. Best friends with people they met twelve days ago.”
I nodded, fingers curling around my coffee cup. The Games always ended like this with everyone half-packed and half-nostalgic.
