Then he smiled as Franny swung with all her might and made contact with the ball, squealing in delight. “Good job!” He clapped and then started laughing as she danced around in pride. That moment ruined me. His laugh with hers on a sunny day, casually enjoying each other, was picture perfect. It’s what a father-daughter relationship should be, and they both looked so effortless in it.
So in their own world.
And then a woman chirped in from the sidelines, “Nice hit, Franny. Jameson, so good to see you both here.” She walked over as Franny missed Jameson’s last soft serve toward her, and then the private attendant stepped in to help Franny get the ball while Jameson talked.
“Good to see you too, Becky.” He didn’t ask her any questions or try to further the conversation, but she stood by expectantly nonetheless.
“How’s the estate coming? We should have coffee sometime with the kids.” She was inviting herself over. Not subtle at all.
“Things are good. Just busy right now.” He smiled while speaking to her like a charmer even as he made eye contact with me and motioned me over. “Our new teacher and nanny, Ms. Darling, just started. We’re going to work on tennis today. Isn’t that right?”
“I guess so.” I shrugged, but instead of going to his side for the lesson, I went over to Franny’s side and whispered, “Ready for me to show your daddy who really knows how to play tennis?”
She giggled. “Are we about to win a game against him?”
“Yup.” I swung my racket around, being silly with her, and she giggled.
“Heart-in-pinkie promise we will win? Daddy hates to lose.”
“Heart-in-pinkie promise, Fran. Because I hate to lose too.”
He smiled at us while that lady talked his ear off, and the smile he sent me wasn’t nearly as friendly as the one he gave her before he said, “Just keep your eye on the ball and try to swing after one bounce on your side, Mia. It takes a minute to get the hang of it.”
I hummed because it was just like a guy to mansplain without asking me if I knew what I was doing.
He lobbed it my way, and I winked at Franny before moving in and smashing it back to his side.
It whizzed past him, and the woman jumped back with a yelp.
“Whoops, sorry about that!” I offered her. “Don’t have great aim all the time.”
Now, I got his real smile, one that I thought might have only been reserved for people he genuinely enjoyed, but his eyes danced with delight or competitiveness, I wasn’t sure which.
He lobbed the next ball to Franny once and said to me, “You play tennis.”
“I wanted to be Serena Williams but fell a little short.” It was a half-truth.
“Interesting.”
And then he served to me. Hard.
Rough.
With no mercy.
I was rusty, and my leg still hurt some days, but I wasn’t one to give up a serve. I lunged for and hit that ball over, pulling back at the last second so he’d have to run for it.
He didn’t get there in time, and I smirked down at Franny. “Do people beat your dad at tennis a lot?”
“No.” She stared at him breathing hard on the other side of the net. “Normally Daddy’s good, so you must be a superstar. Is that who Serena Williams is?”
“For tennis, yes. Superstar material for sure,” I informed her. “And if you practice, bet you can be just like her.”
“Okay.” She pushed her fingers into the netting of her racket like I did mine, and it made me smile at how quickly she picked up on this. “I want to be just as ready as you when the ball comes.”
“Good job. Then you want your racket in front of you like this.” I showed her my stance and said, “And get your knees bent a little so you’re prepared to move when the ball comes. Then, like your dad said, keep your eye on the ball.” I turned to Jameson, who was assessing us quietly. “Want to toss the ball her way again?”
For a moment longer, he held my gaze and then looked down at his daughter. Her face was scrunched with determination.
