“It’s race day, so I would expect her to be there.”
Sienna hasn’t been at the track at all since she arrived in Monaco, which has been perfect for me because I’ve been able to hide there.
“She’s such a bitch,” Petra mutters.
A smile touches my lips, and I turn on my side to face her. “You know you don’t have to dislike her just because I do.”
She frowns, clearly displeased by what I said. “I dislike her because she was a bitch to you—and she makes crappy music.”
I laugh at the expression on her face. “Well, I appreciate your support.”
I fall onto my back. Lifting my hands to my face, I look at them. They’re all rough and dry. I screw my face up.
I bet Sienna’s hands are beautiful and soft.
Ugh. I really need to stop comparing myself to her.
Letting my thoughts escape me though, I say, “I wonder why he’s with her. I mean, I get that Sienna’s beautiful, but she’s so bloody mean.”
Petra lets out a laugh. “He’s not with her, Andi. He’s just shagging her. Sorry.” She grimaces at my anguished face. “But come on, you must see it.”
“See what?”
She sits up in bed, wrapping her arms around her knees, and I turn back onto my side, propping myself up on my elbow.
“Aside from the longing looks Carrick gives you when he thinks no one is looking, have you actually taken a good look at Sienna?”
“He doesn’t give me longing looks.” I stick my tongue out at her. “And unfortunately, yes, I have seen her.”
“And you don’t see it?”
“See what?” I’m getting frustrated now.
“How alike you both look.”
“I do not look like her! God! Thanks a lot!” I huff.
Sure, Sienna is beautiful, but she’s so ugly on the inside that it mars her exterior and in no way do I resemble someone like her.
Petra lets out a sound of frustration, shaking her head. “I don’t mean that you’re like the mega bitch. I just mean that you look incredibly similar.”
“Come on, Petra. I’m not exactly standout-looking. I have brown hair, brown eyes, and olive skin.”
She rolls her eyes. “Sure, you’re not standout-looking with your mile long legs, supermodel body, and stunning face. Granted, I hate that bitch Sienna, but she is beautiful, like you. She has exactly the same attributes as you.”
“As do a million other girls.”
“Yeah, sure, because, of course, all women look like supermodels.” She stretches out her legs, indicating the shortness of them in comparison to mine, causing me to laugh.
“Just think about it. Carrick went back to the UK, seriously pissed off with you because you blew him off, and when he comes back, he brings your look-alike with him. Coincidence? Me thinks not.” She taps her finger to her head.
“Maybe he just has a type,” I challenge.
“The only type Carrick has is pretty with a vagina that’s open for business. But now, I’m starting to think that maybe now he has just one type—Andi Amaro.”
“And I think you might still be drunk.” I show her the middle finger.
Letting out a loud laugh, she sticks her tongue out. “Deny it all you want, but deep down you know I have a point.” Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she gets to her feet. “Right, I’m hitting the shower.”
I watch her disappear into the bathroom. Then, I pull the cover over my head, trying not to think about the last thing she just said, but unfortunately, those words are swimming around like little sharks gnawing away at my brain.
Three hours later, after a mountain of croissants and coffee, I’m still feeling like crap.
Even though my mood was already rubbish due to the hangover, a phone call with my mother before breakfast left me feeling emotional. Today might not be the exact date of when my dad died, but this particular race has always been a difficult one for us.
So, I was already feeling crappy when I had to bear witness to Carrick and the pop princess kissing outside the hotel as I was leaving with Petra.
It hurt badly, seeing him with her, like someone punched in through my chest and was squeezing the life out of my heart. I know it was only harder to see because my head is in a weird place today.
But his body language did look kind of off. He seemed uncomfortable to be kissing her in public. His hands were on her arms, not around her, and he didn’t look to be pulling her closer, more like he was trying to push her away. It’s not that I was examining them or anything or that I’ve spent all morning breaking it down into microscopic details in my head.
Anyway, what do I know? I’m probably just seeing what I need to see at the moment.
He must really like Sienna for her to be here, irrespective of what he said about just going along with it for the publicity. Carrick’s not one to do anything he doesn’t want to.
The next morning after the bar incident, Ben did tell me that when Carrick had gotten back to the bar, he and Sienna had had a massive row. Apparently, he’d reamed her out for the way she’d spoken to me. Ben said she’d tried to downplay it, said Carrick was making a big deal out of nothing. Then, Carrick had told her if she couldn’t behave herself that she could just fuck off back home. Ben said she’d started crying, right there in front of them all, saying she was sorry and that she would apologize to me—which I’m still waiting for. Ben said it was just really uncomfortable, and that Carrick and Sienna had left soon after.
Probably to go have make-up sex.