#dweisel

Conor was feeling slightly overwhelmed as he methodically laid out platters of food and napkins. Pati followed quietly behind him, fanning out the napkins and re-arranging the sandwiches into shapes. For once, he didn’t want to tease her for it. She wasn’t talking very much. Very un-Pati like. He turned as he placed the last platter on the table. She offered him a sad smile as he nudged her and squeezed her shoulder. The funeral and mass were over and they were now preparing for the wake.

            “It doesn’t look right,” she fretted, breaking the silence. Conor surveyed it. It looked fine to him but he knew that wasn’t what his sister wanted to hear.

            “It looks great loser,” he said supportively as she elbowed him.

            “You’re not being nice,” she said. He wrapped his arm around her, placing a kiss on her head.

            “I was only kidding,” he said sincerely. “It looks great and you know Doods. It was all about the taste right?”

            “Yeah,” she reminisced, a smile finally touching the corners of her mouth. “He loved those chocolate brownies I used to make for him.”

            “He’s not the only one,” Conor chuckled as they made their way back to the kitchen.

There was sniffing coming from behind the massive island in the centre of the kitchen. Puzzled, Conor made his way around it to find Brenden sitting on the floor with Biggie. Pati bit her lip, her eyes filling as she took in her brother. She shook her head at Conor who mouthed ‘I got it’. She picked up a stack of glasses and made her way out again. Brenden was crooning softly to the dog that was quietly resting his big head on Brenden’s lap. Conor cleared his throat as he bent down, picking stray pieces of dog hair off of his younger brother’s suit. Brenden looked up, his eyes slightly glossy. Conor didn’t know what to say. His throat felt tight.

“I’m okay,” Brenden mumbled before Conor could say anything. “Sometimes it’s… It’s easier when everyone laughs and jokes about him. I saw mom crying and it just… I’m sorry.”

“Dude,” Conor began, trying to find the words, “don’t feel like… you’ve got to hide it or anything. It doesn’t mean you’re any less cool for showing it okay?” He stumbled a little as he sat on the cool tiles next to his brother.

“Yeah it does,” Brenden argued as Biggie lifted his head and licked Brenden’s hand. “Doods always talked about how we had to take responsibility as guys and take care of the people around us. Me getting emo isn’t going to help anyone is it?”

“Think it depends on how you define taking care of people buddy,” Conor said carefully, not wanting to argue with him. “I think grandpa would just want us to look out for each, no matter what you know?” Brenden merely nodded, concentrating hard on smoothing out the wrinkles on Biggie’s head.

“Maybe,” he murmured. “I miss him.”

“Yup,” was all Conor could say. He took a deep breath in and patted his brother’s arm before getting up. He wasn’t going to be able to break Brenden’s funk at the moment. It was better to let him get through it in his own time.

The house was starting to fill up. Face after face offered their sympathies. But Conor felt as though it was white noise for the most part. He caught PJ’s eye across the living room who was in conversation with two women who Conor didn’t recognise. They were in uniform. PJ looked at him, a questioning look on his face. Conor nodded, mouthing “are you okay?”. PJ offered a tight smile in return, a signal that he was okay.

Conor brushed through the crowd, accepting the requisite pats on the shoulder. The house felt stuffy and confined. He found his mom in the dining room, chatting with his aunt Sarah. They were both wiping their noses and giggling quietly, clearly lost in memories. He felt as though he was intruding as he backed out of the room. And straight into his grandmother. Conor was immediately apologetic.

            “I’m really sorry grandma,” he said as he helped her sit down, taking the seat to her left. While she smiled, he noticed it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

            “Stop fussing darling. It’s fine,” she replied. “It’s rather overwhelming in here isn’t it? On one hand, I can’t help but be moved by everyone’s memories and condolences and on the other hand, I’d like nothing more than to have a bit of a cry.” He bit his lip as he wrapped his arm around her frail shoulders.

            “No,” he lied, “not at all. It’s not overwhelming nana. It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.” She snorted as she looked at him.

            “You’re as bad a liar as he was Conor James,” she teased. “But I know things will be alright. It’s a new kind of normal I suppose.”

            “How are you doing this? Being so… okay with it?” he asked, unable to help himself.

            “Oh sweetie,” she began, “I’m not okay. But you know what I think? Your grandfather was a remarkable man who lived a fulfilled life. He made it his mission to live in joy and love and I got a chance to share that with him. That’s what I’m choosing to focus on right now.” Conor looked down at the luminescent green tie they’d all picked out as a tribute to their grandfather.

            “Remarkable is right,” he smiled. “D’you think we should have gone with the orange instead?” His grandmother chuckled as she dabbed at the corner of her eye.

            “I think he would appreciated the sharpness of the colour,” she smiled. He smiled as they sat in silence. “He would have been very proud of you Conor.” He looked at her, unsure what to say.

            “Proud of me? Why?” he asked. It sounded slightly ridiculous. He hadn’t lived even half the life that his grandfather had.

            “The day you qualified for the Olympics was one of the proudest of his life,” she began. “Do you know why?”

            “Well it was cool but it’s not that big a deal. It’s not like I was serving my country like he did or anything,” Conor frowned. His grandmother rolled her eyes and pursed her lips, shaking her head at him.

            “Silly boy. You did represent your country and did us all proud,” she admonished. “He was more proud of you for having a goal and sticking to it despite the odds. He was proud of how committed you were. It wouldn’t have mattered if you were first or fiftieth sweetie.” Conor bit the inside of his cheek. He remembered handing his grandfather his gold medal. It’s a thing of beauty. I’m proud of you bud he’d proclaimed, handing it back to Conor with a smile. Suddenly, he was struck that he would never see that smile again and his eyes grew hazy.

            “Hey nana, I think… I… Um-” he said thickly, wanting more than anything to run. She looked at him sympathetically.

            “Go on dear, it’s alright,” she said kindly.

Conor got up and dashed towards the kitchen, crashing into Spencer who looked like he’d been blowing his nose.

            “Sorry,” he apologised. He hugged his twin who hugged him back.

            “We’re getting better at those lame guys hugs,” Spencer commented dryly. Conor chuckled, the laugh getting stuck in his throat.

            “Yeah Doods would be proud,” he acknowledged as Spencer handed him a napkin. “Hey I don’t need-”

            “Just in case,” he shrugged. “Hey, go take a breather dude. I got this. Seriously, you’re asking everyone else how they are. Take five minutes for yourself. Consider this me going ‘big brother’ on your Olympic size ass. Jacket too. It’s cold out.” Conor snorted but was grateful nonetheless as he slipped out the back door to the quiet of the large garden.

  He kicked at the small mounds of snow that had begun to melt. It was still cold but manageable. He took a deep breath as he shoved the napkin in his pocket and sat down on the swing at the bottom of the garden. Conor pushed himself back and forth as he closed his eyes. He was tired and his limbs felt heavy.

            “Looks like you need to learn how to do that properly hub,” a voice interrupted the quiet. Conor smiled but didn’t open his eyes. He would recognise Lizzie’s voice anywhere. He was thankful for a dream to escape to.

            “I am doing it properly. Judgy much dizzy Lizzie?” he sparred with her.

            “The only thing I’m judging is how cold it is here Dwyer,” she said. “Are you even going to open your eyes to see how insanely dressed up I am?”

            “I can’t do that,” he said seriously.

            “Erm… why?” she asked, sounding really concerned. Or was he imagining things?

            “Because you’ll disappear on me. I don’t want that,” he told her honestly. He felt as though he was falling as he tipped into the snow. Except… it wasn’t a dream. It was real. “WHAT THE HELL!?” Conor found himself on his back, looking at a freaked out but very much real Elizabeth Beisel.

            “Are you okay?” she asked frantically as she dusted the snow from his hair and jacket. Conor pushed himself up and stood up. He wasn’t sure what to say or do or how to feel. Lizzie was standing in front of him. He tentatively touched her arm. Very much real.

            “Lizzie?” he asked. “For real?”

            “Yes,” she smiled and touched his cheek. He squeezed his eyes shut.

            “How?” was all he could think to ask as they sat down on the swings.

            “Well, your mom told me about it when I called her. I wanted to be here. Doods was an epic guy. Plus, my other favourite twin sent an SOS to Florida. And… I wanted to see you,” she explained softly. Conor breathed in deeply, both angry and infinitely grateful for his crazy brother.

            “He would have been really happy, knowing you were here dizzy Lizzie,” Conor said, in awe of her thoughtfulness. She smiled sadly at him. “He loved you so much. Like, so much.”

            “I loved him,” she said thoughtfully. “Do you remember Olympic Trials?”

            “Yeah,” he grinned. “You guys both wore matching ties to dinner. Except the stars and stripes clashed with your dress or something?” Conor recalled that Lizzie had climbed into the stands to say hello to his family after hugging it out with her own. They’d all been thrilled to see her, particularly his grandfather who had taken an instant liking to the bubbly blonde. When Lizzie had complimented his tie, he’d produced one for her to wear and asked her to sign his. She’d proudly worn it to dinner that night.

            “You remember that?” she asked incredulously.

            “Well you and your mom fought about it not matching so yeah I remember. Doods had that tie hanging on his wall,” Conor commented. Lizzie laughed as she traced patterns in the snow with her feet. She looked at him.

            “How are you?” she asked. “Seriously?” Conor shrugged. He wasn’t sure how to answer that question.

            “I’m… I’m fine,” he said lamely. “I mean, I think Bren is taking it hard and Pati is not so great. But it’s time right? I mean- Well, it has to be time.”

            “Con, I love your family but I’m asking about you. How are you?” she asked earnestly.

            “What’s there to say Lizzie?” he said, frustrated.

“There’s nothing wrong with feeling Con,” Lizzie replied gently. “He was a big part of your life.”

“AND?” he demanded, pulling back as he stared at her. His eyes were burning. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t think about the fact that he’s GONE? I’ll never see him smile or tell a bad joke or wear a bad Christmas sweater EVER AGAIN? Like, I- I don’t know how… He… amazing. I can’t-” Conor couldn’t talk anymore. He couldn’t see either, the tears now falling down his face, fast and free. Lizzie jumped up, wrapping him in her arms as he cried. She didn’t say a word, just held him. When his tears subsided, she handed him a serviette.

“Where did-” he asked, wiping his nose, slightly embarrassed.

“Thought it might be useful,” she said quietly.

“Thanks dizzy Lizzie,” he mumbled.

“Any time,” she said, squeezing his hand. Conor examined it. Their hands had fit well when put together.

“Doods was right about one thing,” he ventured.

“What’s that?” she asked, curious. Conor took another deep breath, reminding himself that Doods believed in bravery above all else.

“I should have asked you out when I had the chance. I should have told you every day how much I liked you and still like you. That Matt is an idiot,” he replied truthfully. Six different emotions skittered across her face as she looked at him.

“Conor please. Not now. Not like this. You don’t know what you’re saying,” she begged. “I can’t-”

“I’m not saying anything. I just wanted to tell you. I’m not in any place to promise or give you anything dizzy Lizzie,” he said. Lizzie took a deep breath and looked away. When she looked at him, her eyes were shiny.

“Ask me again sometime. Ask me for real okay?” she asked. Conor nodded. He would. He would ask her for real.

“Hey are you up for some hot chocolate?” he asked lightly. “Don’t know if you’ve noticed dizzy Lizzie but Winnetka’s kinda cold!”

Conor paced back and forth as he peered through the double doors at the Natatorium. Trials were under way as the warm down pool was full. How was he going to make this right? He shook his hands out. He hadn’t been this nervous since his very first NCAA race. Ridiculous really. It was only Lizzie. But that was the problem. It was Lizzie. One of his best friends. One of the people he trusted most. And he had broken her trust by not being honest with her in the first place. He hadn’t meant for her to find out from reporters that training in Baltimore was permanent. Training with Bob Bowman at the OTC before Santa Clara had gotten him thinking about it. Meeting up with Michael had merely cemented his decision to move. Of course, it wasn’t easy leaving Florida. It had been home for three years, the place where it had all began. It was familiar too with so many of his friends there. He would always be grateful for it. But it was time to move on. If he was honest, he had grown up and being in a college town didn’t help as he wanted to further his career. Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it wasn’t. But Conor needed to do it. It was the same for Ryan. But leaving Lizzie and not seeing her every day… It was beyond painful.

He felt his stomach lurch in nerves as the doors flew open and out walked Lizzie. Her blonde hair was dripping as she swung her cap on her hand. She had a faint smile on her face that disappeared as she stopped short and caught sight of him, coming to a standstill. She folded her arms across chest. Her face was expressionless. But he winced as he saw it in her eyes. Anger. Hurt. Confusion. Betrayal.

            “Hey dizzy Lizzie,” he began, hoping she’d at least hear him out. Wrong move. It seemed to trigger something in her as her jaw dropped.

            “Are you serious right now Conor? I mean, are you for real?” she hissed. “Save it. I don’t want to hear it.” With that, she stormed towards the locker room. He shrank slightly. She might shorter but Elizabeth when furious was nothing short of terrifying. His heart sank. He supposed he deserved it. But it didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try and make amends.

Conor jogged after her, catching up easily. Without saying a word, she shook off his arm and walked into the locker room, the door clanging with a loud slam behind her.

Undeterred, he followed her in. To a discord of screams as towels flew and girls fled. Weirdly, Conor didn’t see them. He was entirely focussed on Lizzie who was sitting on a bench. Allison was sitting next her, clearly trying to comfort her. Allison’s eyes met his. He could see the sympathy in them as she merely nodded in greeting. Lizzie looked up.

            “I said I didn’t want to talk to you,” she snapped. Conor took a deep breath in.

            “I know you said you didn’t want to but I think we need to Lizzie,” he replied, ignoring her fierce tone. Allison looked from Lizzie to Conor.

            “I think I’ll give you guys some privacy,” she said finally as she got up. “I’ll see you later Lizzie.” She walked away, leaving them alone. He sat down tentatively. It was perhaps something that she didn’t shove him away. But it also said something that she wouldn’t look him in the eye.

            “Allison’s a good person,” he said finally.

            “Lucky thing you’ll get to see her every day in person,” Lizzie muttered, finally looking at him. She sighed. “I’m sorry. She is a good person. I shouldn’t have said that.”

            “No, you can say what you like,” he appeased her. He watched as she hunched over, toeing the tiles on the floor.

            “Well you said we needed to talk,” she shrugged. “What’s there to talk about?” He felt slightly ashamed. Why hadn’t he just said something to her? He didn’t want to lose his friend.

            “I wanted to apologise,” he began, “for you finding out like that.” She merely snorted in reply as she continued concentrating on the ground. “It wasn’t my intention that that’s how you found out I was leaving Florida for good. I should have told you.” Lizzie looked up, unshed tears in her eyes.

            “Coulda, woulda, shoulda told me. And yes,” she agreed, swallowing hard, “it was pretty shitty. I’m not going to lie. You’re one of my best friends. All we’ve ever asked of one another is honesty. And you couldn’t even do that when it came to such a big part of your life.” He didn’t know what to say. She was right. How could she not be?    

            “I guess I’m partly to blame,” she mused. Conor reared back as he looked at her.

            “What?” he exclaimed as gaped at her. “How?”

            “Because I saw it. I saw it in Santa Clara. You were different. It was like you’d reached a different level in the water after that OTC camp. Matt saw it too,” she saw slowly. “I knew you were thinking about Baltimore. Being with Coach Bowman full time.” He put his hand over hers. She didn’t move away but she didn’t look at him. 

            “It’s true,” he said finally. “That camp. Man, I hadn’t felt so alive in a long time Lizzie. It felt like when I first started training in Florida. When I met Reezy. When I met you. I can’t really explain it.”

            “You seem to be able to explain it to everyone else. Even members of the press,” she remarked bitterly. “Why couldn’t you tell me Conor? And now Ryan’s leaving too. It’s really hard.” She finally looked at him. He swallowed hard as he saw the tears down her cheeks. He pressed his sweatshirt against them.

            “Here,” he said, offering her his sleeve. “Blow. I kinda deserve it.” She pulled a gagging face at him but wiped her nose nonetheless.

            “You still haven’t answered my question,” she reminded him. “Why couldn’t you tell me?” He pondered his reply as he held her hand.

            “Actually, of all the people I had to tell, you were the one person I couldn’t,” he said. “I love training with you. I love that we get to hang out every day together. I love that we do funny stuff. How was I supposed to tell you, of all people, that it just- It wasn’t enough for me Lizzie. How was I supposed to tell you that it had nothing to do with you and that it was just how I was feeling?” She nodded slowly.

            “I get it. You and Reezy are in new phases of your lives. You need new challenges. I get that,” she repeated. “I don’t want to be difficult or hold you back. I want you to be happy.”

            “Difficult?” he interrupted. “Dizzy Lizzie, I’m sitting in the girls’ locker room talking to you and begging you for forgiveness. What part of that strikes you as easy going?” She stuck her tongue out at him.

            “We wouldn’t be here if you’d manned up and been honest with me from the start,” she pointed out. “So is Baltimore… Is it nice?” He could hear the slight distaste in her voice as she asked but he appreciated her effort.

            “Well, it’s colder than Florida. Of course, no-one makes me laugh like you do. Not even Schmitty despite her best efforts,” he said. Lizzie smiled slightly and shook her head.

            “Give her time,” she advised.

            “But it’s… It’s pretty great Lizzie. It sounds pathetic and cheesy but I feel like I can kinda fly in the water now you know?” he ventured softly. “I’m not in anyone’s shadow. I can just do my thing. What? What’s wrong? What’s with that look?”

            “I was afraid you’d say that. How am I supposed to be unsupportive of this move now when you say stuff like that?” she sighed deeply. He laughed at her facial expression of mock annoyance. “You still should have told me.”

            “I know and I am so sorry Lizzie. I really am,” he said sincerely. He held his breath as she looked at him and smiled. Finally. It was the one that reached her eyes.

            “I want you to be happy but I’m going to miss you Dwyer,” she said finally.

            “Ditto dizzy Lizzie,” he said as they looked at one another. He cleared his throat. “Can we get out of here? Please? I’m worried it might spread that I’m a pervert or something.” She laughed loudly as she stood up, offering him her hand. He took it as he stood up and placed a kiss on it. They made their way out of the locker room.

            “By the way, does this whole Baltimore thing mean you’ll choose crab over ribs?” she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

            “What? Me? Crabs?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Lizzie thumped him in the side.

Conor was dawdling. It’s not something he usually did. Once practice was done, he was out the door. But today was different. He sighed as he stared at the tiled walls of the shower stall. The water pounded mercilessly on his head as it streamed over his face and down his body, its trail slowly circling in the bottom of the tray. He clenched his fists tightly as he braced himself, trying to shift his weight to ease the burn in his calves. The volume of water did nothing to drown out the comments in his head. Maybe he kind of deserved it. Then again, it didn’t help that Ryan wasn’t around to help him out. Agreeing to be on Ryan’s show seemed like a great idea at the time. After all, he was helping his friend out and while it seemed that fans’ reaction to the show was largely positive, the same couldn’t be said for his team mates and training buddies. The morning session was full of laughter. Mostly at Conor’s expense for knowing more about Ryan’s toilet habits than was entirely appropriate. It seemed that the nickname ‘Bowl boy’ was sure to stick and that it was now up to Conor to determine just how much urine was in the practice pool. It’s not that he didn’t have a sense of humour. Growing up with three brothers meant he was able to deal with whatever was thrown his way. Still, it sucked being on the outside of the joke the whole time. He shut the water off and poked his head out. Fortunately, the locker room was empty. He made his way over to his stuff and took some time to pull on sweats and a hoodie. Some breakfast might be a good idea and then a nap. His thoughts were interrupted by his buzzing phone. He smiled and picked it up immediately.      

            “If you want to rub it in my face that you’re done with junior year, you called the wrong guy,” he said firmly as he grabbed his bag and made his way out of the training complex.  

            “I know every party has a pooper but that’s the limit Dwyer. C’mon it’s time to have some fun and that’s why I called you!” Lizzie sang down the line. Conor pulled his phone away from his ear as her volume level increased. Typical Lizzie. Insistent that the whole of Florida heard her.  

            “Yeah but there are World Champs to consider,” he said. “Some of us didn’t get given a break because we had finals to worry about.”

            “UGH! You sound like coach or something!” Lizzie whined. Conor couldn’t help but laugh at her. “So what’s it feel like Dwyer?”

            “What does what feel like?” he asked, confused as he walked down the path.

            “Well I watched what Ryan was up to last night and it looks like you’re a star. Of his toilet habits or something?” she explained. Conor groaned as she said it. That wasn’t quite what he wanted to be remembered for.

            “Don’t even go there Dizzy Lizzie,” he said shortly. He bit his lip. He hadn’t meant to snap at her.

            “Ouch. Okay. You wanna talk about that?” she asked softly. “I’ve got some omelettes going on the stove if you want to stop by?” Conor’s heart leapt. Breakfast with Lizzie seemed like the best idea right now. It helped she was a killer chef.

            “Forgive me for being an idiot?” he asked.

            “Don’t I always? Move your butt Dwyer. If you’re lucky, I’ll add mushrooms,” she said smartly. He chuckled as she hung up the phone. If anyone could help him, it was her.

  Conor bounded up the stairs and stopped at Lizzie’s door. He banged on it and it flew open as though she had been waiting for him. She stuck her head out and looked around furiously, then quickly pulled him inside.

            “Lizzie what the fu…?” he yelped as he stumbled against the doorframe and she slammed it shut. There was music blaring from the kitchen. She stood back and looked at him triumphantly. Conor raised his eyebrows and stared her down. It wasn’t difficult with the height difference. “Explain yourself.”

            “What?” she asked, trying to look innocent as they made their way into the kitchen. “I was just trying to save you from the swarm of paparazzi that I was sure was following you. You look tired.”

            “I feel tired. Coach still hasn’t mentioned the idea of a taper yet,” he said, yawning.

            “No come on. It’s the end of the semester. We’ve got to do something crazy! Sorry for party rocking…” she sang as she started dancing. He rolled his eyes dramatically at her but joined in they danced around the kitchen floor. He slumped into a chair as his tired legs finally caught up with him.

            “Okay I won’t call you old man or anything,” she teased as she brought plates to the table.   

            “You’ve outdone yourself Lizzie,” he said, ignoring her age comment as he took a bite and swallowed. It was really good. They sat in silence for a little while as they ate.

            “So do you want to talk about it?” she asked, breaking the silence. Conor sighed knowing that she probably wasn’t going to let it go.

            “Do you remember how we promised Ryan we would supportive no matter what?” he began. Lizzie nodded as she recalled them going through Ryan’s wardrobe before filming started for his show. “I’m beginning to feel the burden of that unconditional promise.” Lizzie looked like she was trying not to laugh as she looked at him sympathetically and rubbed his arm. 

            “Is it really that bad?” she asked.

            “I’ve now got the entire team asking me to measure their pee output. How is it not that bad?” he cried. Lizzie tried but failed miserably, laughing loudly. Conor shook his head. “It’s not that funny.”

            “C’mon it is a little bit. Just a little,” she said. “Look I think it could be worse. I love him but the 20th century? We could still be stuck in the 20th century Dwyer!” He laughed with Lizzie who was wiping the tears from eyes.

            “Okay that was funny. Ugh his face when he was trying to figure out that pizza base was something else. But he tried,” he said. 

            “I think that deserves a toast… To our friend Ryan, the loveable one,” Lizzie said, raising her glass. Conor shook her head and raised his glass to clink it with hers.

            “Yeah to the one who made me ask him pool peeing on national television,” he said wryly. “I want to be supportive but there are limits I think.” Lizzie looked serious as she sat and contemplated what he had said.

            “I think you’re right. Up to a point. Ryan is his own person. He always has been and he’s gonna do what he wants to do. I think we knew that when we took him on,” Lizzie said with a smile. Conor had to acknowledge that she had a point. Ryan was a force to be reckoned with. He could only admire his friend’s dedication to swimming awareness. Or whatever he called it.  

            “As always you’re right,” he said bowing his head towards her. She smirked at him and then stuck her tongue out at him, revealing a mouth full of half-chewed omelette. He recoiled and threw his napkin at her. “You’re gross!”  

            “Yeah but you love me anyway. Matt puts up with it so you have to too,” she shrugged. Conor smiled. Everyone always joked that he and Lizzie were like an old married couple. “You know, if you are so worried about how you’re coming off, you could always do something about it.”

            “Like what?” he asked, curious as to what she would say.

            “I’m thinking a spin-off to ‘What Would Ryan Lochte Do’… The Conor Show,” she replied looking at him. Conor snorted and choked on his juice.

            “What!?” he sputtered, trying to wipe his face. “Get my own show!? I think America would probably disagree.”

            “And I think your army of fan girls would totally disagree with you,” she giggled. Conor shook his head and looked at the table, feeling slightly embarrassed. “Okay maybe just not you. We could involve the entire Dwyer clan.”  

            “Oh yeah I could see that going down well,” he said, imagining his brothers and sister going crazy for the cameras. And at them if he was completely honest.

            “Yeah we could call it ‘Dishing with the Dwyers’ or something,” Lizzie said, rubbing her hands together excitedly. There was nothing better than excited Lizzie. Her face lit up and it was infectious. It was one of the things Conor loved most about her. Suddenly he was struck by the fact that maybe his team mates’ ribbing him wasn’t so bad after all. It came out before he could stop it.  

            “Hey Lizzie you know I love you right?” he asked, looking at her. Her eyebrows rose slightly as she looked at him.            

“No.”

Conor chuckled a little. He knew Elizabeth was a persistent little thing, so all he was doing was fighting a losing battle. Still, tradition dictated that she stay on the other side of the door. “Come on, Biesel.”

“No, you come on, Dwyer. Open the damn door!”

The door, however, remained firmly closed, and Elizabeth had the distinct impression that Conor was shaking his head and counting to ten. “I just want to see your face,” she said, as sweetly as she could. “Later, I’d be too focused on getting to the altar. I won’t have time to look at you. I’d be too happy because this is it, Con. It. My happy ending. Our happy ending.”

Elizabeth sighed happily, placing the side of her head against the door, her fingers tracing the ornate carvings. “I just felt like it took us, ages, you know?” she said softly, though Conor could still hear her clearly. “And now, it’s here and I just, I don’t know. I can’t wait.”

 “I know, Lizzie,” was all Conor was able to say.

“All I want is to see your face when you see me in this dress,” Elizabeth went on. “I want to remember it. It’s not fair that everybody gets to see it first hand and I would have to wait until the wedding photos and videos.”

On the other side, Conor had his forehead against the wood, one hand braced against the doorframe, the other clutching the doorknob.

“Five minutes, that’s all I ask. Three, even.”

With a heavy sigh, Conor relented. He never could say no to Elizabeth. Not really. “Fine,” he relented, finally opening the door.

To say that his breath was taken away was an understatement. Elizabeth looked radiant in her wedding dress, the shade of white complementing her skin, making it glow. Her hair was done up in an elegant twist, her make-up light, brightening up her face. Conor always knew that Elizabeth was beautiful, but there was something about this entire affair that had her looking indescribable.

“Wow,” Conor breathed. “I mean… Wow.”

Elizabeth smiled. “There. That’s the face I didn’t want to miss.” She threw her arms around Conor and hugged him tightly.

Conor didn’t say anything, wanting to hug her tightly, too, but worried that he would wrinkle her dress. Finally, they released each other, but not before Elizabeth placed a kiss on Conor’s cheek. “You look amazing, Lizzie,” he whispered, touching her cheek gently with the back of his fingers. “Now, go. Before Matt comes out of the bathroom and sees you.”

“Don’t tell him I was here,” Elizabeth pleaded, biting her lip. “You’re my best friend and I just wanted to –“

“See my face,” Conor interrupted, rolling his eyes slightly. “I know. He’d kill me if he knew I risked bad luck, so no way I’m telling him. Go on. I’ll see you out there in a while.”

Elizabeth smiled again. “Thanks, Con,” she said. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Lizzie,” he replied, smiling in spite of himself. “Go!”

With a giggle, Elizabeth gathered up her skirts and hurried back to the bridal suite. Conor watched her go, fighting the sadness that was building up in his chest. A clap on his back brought him back to the moment. “Conor, you with us, man?” Ryan Lochte asked. He and Michael Phelps had been in the bathroom with Matt McLean, helping him get through his nerves.

Conor turned around and saw that Matt had finally come out of the bathroom. The groom’s suite was huge, so he was fairly sure that neither of them had heard Elizabeth. “Yeah, I just, I was talking to Abbie, she was asking if Matt was all right ‘cause we have to get out there soon.”

Ryan guffawed and grabbed Matt by the shoulders. “’Course he’s all right, it’s just nerves,” he said, lightly. “Better than cold feet, right? Besides, I’m sure, the moment he sees Lizzie walking down that aisle in her dress, the nerves will disappear.”

Matt didn’t say anything. Instead he poured himself a glass of water from a pitcher by the window and gulped down the entire contents in about a second. After a deep breath, he turned to them and said, “Okay, I’m good. Let’s get me and Lizzie married.” Then he marched out of the door, Michael and Ryan at his heels. Conor hung back, needing a moment to himself to gather his thoughts. A second later, Ryan poked his head through the open door and looked at him.

“You okay, man?” he asked.

It took a few seconds for Conor to answer. “Yeah, um, I just need a sec.”

A knowing look crossed Ryan’s face and he walked back inside the suite. “It wasn’t Abbie at the door earlier, was it? ‘Cause if it was, she’d have come into the bathroom and talked to Matt. She’s my wife; I know how her mind works.”

Conor wasn’t able to answer, but there must have been something in his face because Ryan’s next question was, “Was it Elizabeth?”

Conor could only nod. “Did you tell her?” Ryan asked. “Did you tell her how you feel about her?”

“Not exactly,” Conor replied. He sighed. “And it doesn’t matter, Reez. I just want her to have her happy ending. Even if it’s not with me. That’s enough, I guess.”

Ryan didn’t say anything, there didn’t seem to be anything to say. So he just patted Conor on the shoulder and smiled wistfully. They let a few moments pass in silence then Conor hitched up his shoulders and blew out a sigh. “Let’s go,” he declared.