Her words tumbled over each other, and it was so un-Alex I almost laughed. Instead, I let a tiny smirk curl my lips. “Are you asking me out right now? At the medal ceremony?”
Color rushed to her cheeks, and she looks so suddenly unsure. “I mean yeah. I guess I am. Terrible timing, but… I didn’t want to waste it.”
I tilted my head, savoring the rare sight of Alexandra Cadiz flustered. “Fine,” I said quietly, just for her. “Maybe we can talk about it… later.”
Her eyes lit up like I’d handed her the gold instead, awkward grin tugging wider. “So… that’s a yes?”
I shook my head, trying to sound stern but failing to hide my smile. “Don’t get cocky. But… yes.”
Then the officials came, herding me away for the part every tennis player dreams of but never quite believes until it’s theirs.
The medal ceremony.
They draped the Union Jack across my shoulders and I clutched it like armor. Cameras snapped as the medal went over my head and the anthem began. I sang it, voice cracking somewhere between the second and third line, because my chest was too full, because I couldn’t stop seeing flashes of every court I’d ever trained on, and everything that made me doubt if I’d stand here again.
The photographers swarmed, the flag shot, me biting the medal, trying not to laugh at the absurdity while the crowd roared.
And then my family. Nan and Dad both teary, Bianca practically vaulting the barrier to crush me in the tightest hug of all. For a heartbeat it was just us, London girls who’d dreamed too big and somehow made it real.
CHAPTER 34
ALEXANDRA
I didn’t think my legs could shake more than they did on race day, but waiting on the top level of the Eiffel Tower, I was one heartbeat away from fainting. I’d bought every special access ticket for this hour, ensured the tower staff cleared the usual crowds, all so I could have this moment uninterrupted.
Every string I’d pulled, every favor I’d begged, every cent I’d drained off my credit card, all led to this.
It had taken an army. Dad had called the manager of Olivia’s hotel, using every ounce of charm and authority he could muster to secure the entire rooftop for our celebration. Mom and Archer were already there, fussing over the table setup, arranging linens, insisting on candles even though the wind threatened to snuff them out, and draping fairy lights so the whole terrace glimmered like starlight. The catering was flawless, a blend of both our family favorites, each dish chosen to honor everyone present.
Bobby had been on a different mission entirely: finding a painter capable of capturing Olivia’s family together, with Paris unfurling behind them. I’d had the image in my head for weeks. Olivia, her family, framed by a place that meant something to her.
But before a single canvas was stretched, I’d gone to her family first. Asking for permission and asking for anold family photo. Asking if I even had the right to do something like this, if I was crossing a line I couldn’t come back from. Their answer came quietly and without hesitation. They didn’t question my intentions; they simply placed pieces of her world into my hands and trusted me to take care of them.
The artist worked through an entire day and night after that, every brushstroke a race against time, until the painting finally stood finished.
I’d been pacing like a caged Olympian for the last ten minutes, muttering to myself about how no one couldeverpossibly pull off a stunt this stupid and romantic in one go. And then the lift doors opened.
She stepped out. Hair rebelliously loose, cheeks that somehow made gold look like a dull wannabe. I swear, the Eiffel Tower lights tilted slightly, like they were trying to get a better look atherinstead of the city.
Bianca and Maddie were there too, acting casual, but their smirks were too synchronized, too knowing. The instant Olivia’s eyes hit mine, they subtly gestured, exchanged a “we’ve done our part” look, and started to retreat to the elevator.
“Wait,” Olivia said, tilting her head, suspicion creeping into that golden glow of a face. “What... what’s going on?”
I tried to look nonchalant, like I hadn’t been practically vibrating for the past hour. My heart was doing gymnastics that would make even the best of us blush.
I forced a grin. “Hi,” I said, waving like a slightly awkward, overly caffeinated tour guide. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Olivia stepped onto the top floor, eyes wide as the city stretched glittering below. “Alex… what is all this?” she asked, voice calm but edged with disbelief, as if she suspected I’d lost my mind entirely.
I shuffled awkwardly, scratching the back of my neck. “Well… funny story. Bianca said you wanted to see the view from the Eiffel Tower, right? So, um… I might have bought special tickets.” I waved vaguely at the private space around us. “Just… for this spot. For you. No one else. Totally normal, obviously.”
She blinked at me, processing. “You… bought all the tickets for this? Just for me?”
“Yes,” I said, trying to keep my voice casual. “All the tickets. Just… you, me, and the city.” I gave a half-shrug, hoping it didn’t come off as desperate. “Thought you might like… some privacy.”
Her gaze softened, and for a moment she just let the silence stretch, the wind tugging gently at her hair. “You didn’t have to,” she murmured.
“I know,” I said quickly. “But I wanted to. And also… I kind of needed to.” My words stumbled out before I could stop them, raw and honest. “I’ve been a complete mess, doing all the stupid things to get your attention… and yet, every time you’re around, I feel like I’m falling behind.”
