I knew Andreea couldn’t make it since she’s too pregnant to fly, so when my dad offered, I was hesitant. But now that he’s here, looking proud and supportive, I’m glad we reconnected.
The arena is packed to the brim, but that doesn’t stop me from glancing at every section in the hope that I’ll see Rowan. Did he give up on me?
I reign in my worry and try to focus on the second set. BothElena and I play strategically on the clay courts and the set stretches longer than we want it to. I eventually manage to hit an ace and win the set, but I’m exhausted. The clear skies have turned to dark clouds and my wrist twinges in pain, which always happens when it’s about to rain.
Scanning the crowds again, I hope for a glimpse of Rowan, but I still can’t spot him anywhere. Dad catches me looking and frowns. He knows I’m distracted. My shoulders droop and I take a deep breath. I keep telling myself that I need to win, but one question keeps nagging me.Why? For my dad? For myself? What’s the point of winning if I don’t have the one person I want to share that victory with?
I take my spot behind the baseline and bounce the ball twice, getting ready to serve for the last set. The dark cloud above me erupts at the exact moment my racquet makes contact with the ball and the rain starts to pour. Gameplay is immediately stopped and the court staff rushes to cover the court while the retractable roof is activated.
We run off the courts and wait for more information about the match. I wipe the rain from my face with my wet forearm and look over at Elena. She looks pale and miserable as she watches the staff uncover the court now that the roof is up. The clay got a decent amount of rain and I groan. I don’t want to play on an even slower surface.
“This sucks,” I mumble and she blows a breath.
“Yes, it does.”
Someone lets us know that the game will be delayed by an hour so the court can dry out, and we’re ushered back towards the locker room. A few reporters are waiting nearby, asking for a word. Elena ignores them and storms into the locker room, but I stop with my hand on the door handle.
“How do you feel about the delay?” a reporter asks.
“Do you think you’ll win the championship?” another pipes up.
“Your father was seen in the crowd, is this the first time he’s attended one of your matches?” someone says and I roll my eyes. They already know that’s the case.
“Rowan Amory was missing from the crowd, are the rumors about your break-up true?” another reporter asks and I take a deep inhale, heading their way.
“I don’t love the rain, that’s for sure,” I say, smiling. “But if there’s anything I like, it’s a challenge. I’m sure I can prevail during the third set. And yes, my father is in attendance today. I’m very happy he could make the trip to support me.”
“What about Rowan?”
“Rowan is the type of person who’s there for his friends and right now, Jacob needs him more than I do,” I say, shivering. Even though the cold rain seeped into my skin and I’m dying to go take a hot shower, I push through and say what I should have said a long time ago. “That’s one of the many reasons I fell in love with Rowan. He’s always been there for me, loving me unconditionally, even when I didn’t know what I wanted or needed.”
“So the two of you are together?” the reporter asks and I smile.
“It’s…more complicated than that. Rowan’s my best friend and the only person I’ve ever loved. And if he’ll have me, I’d like to be his for the rest of my life,” I say, blinking back tears.
The reporters ask more questions, but a towel wraps around my shoulders and I look over to see my dad’s stern face glowering at them. “That’s enough.”
My shoulders straighten and I keep my chin high as we walk away from the reporters. “Thank you, Dad.”
“You just focus on your game, I’ll track down Amory and drag him here if I need to,” he says.
I laugh. “There’s no need. I’ll be okay, Dad. I promise.”
CHAPTER 33
Rowan
May - French Open
Jacob tricksme into giving him the remote while I go on a coffee run to the hospital’s cafeteria. I make him promise me he won’t watch any tennis, but of course, when I get back, he’s watching the sports channel. There are no English subtitles and the commentators are speaking French, so we have no idea what they’re saying, but they keep replaying snippets from Elena and Maggie’s first and second set.
My fingers tighten around the coffee cups and my stomach twists with guilt.I should be there.The camera shows Maggie at her bench, but instead of sitting down and drinking water, she’s facing the arena and looking around the stands. The commentators speak rapidly to one another and even though I took a couple years of French in college, I can’t understand a lick of it. One name stands out though—David Taylor—and I walk closer to the TV, blocking Jacob’s view in the process.
“Mate, I can’t see,” he huffs. “And you didn’t hand me my coffee. You’re doing a piss poor job at being helpful.”
“Sshh,” I say, watching with rapt attention as the camera pans to Maggie’s dad sitting in the stands.
“Don’t shush the injured man,” Jacob says indignantly and I blindly reach back and hand him the cup of coffee. He groans and grunts, taking it from me. “Rude,” he mumbles but I don’t pay him any mind.
