Her lips parted slightly, as if she might speak, but she didn’t. So I pressed on, forcing the words out like a lifeline. “So if there’s even a chance, just a small one, that I can earn my way back… I want to take it. With you. From wherever you’ll let me start.”
She tilted her head, and that teasing spark danced in her eyes, still there, still infuriating, still perfect. “Like a start over, huh?” she asked softly, like she was testing me.
I swallowed, trying to keep the nervous flutter from betraying me. “Start over, yeah. But… I’m awful at reading signals. So you might have to spell it out for me.”
Her eyes flicked to mine, teasing, sharp, but soft around the edges. “Oh, I don’t know… maybe I’ll let you figure it out. Or maybe I’ll make you sweat a little first.”
I laughed, a little breathless. “You mean, like, an emotional triathlete thriving to the finish line, hanging on for dear life?”
“Exactly,” she said, leaning just a fraction closer. “I need to know you’re serious. Not that I’m convinced yet…” Her voice was teasing, but there was weight there too, something tender that made my chest tighten.
I shook my head, smiling despite the knot in my stomach. “Then I guess I’d better train harder. Because I don’t back down from a challenge… especially not this one.”
Her lips curved, that spark of mischief still in her eyes. “We’ll see about that, silver-medal girl.”
I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, palms clammy. My usual bravado shrank into something smaller, sheepish. “Okay, so… there’s one more thing.”
She eyed me warily. I swallowed hard, then tugged the cloth off the canvas propped against the railing. The painting caught the Tower’s glow, Olivia’s family together, Paris behind them, her mum smiling like she was still here to see all of it.
Her lips parted, but no sound came.
“I, uh…” My voice cracked. “I know… how much your family means to you. Especially your mom. At Christmas… your nan told me stories about her, and I…” I shook my head, pressing my knuckles to my mouth before I lost my nerve. “I couldn’t stop thinking… if this was the moment. Winning gold in Paris, in her favorite city… her favorite landmark, the Eiffel Tower. I just wanted you to feel like she is here, like she’s celebrating with you.”
Her hand flew to her mouth. She didn’t move closer to the painting; she froze, eyes shining, shoulders trembling. “Alex,” she whispered, like the name itself was too heavy.
“I know it’s not enough,” I rushed on, fumbling. “It’ll never be enough. But if this is your milestone, your biggest dream, then I wanted her here, even in some small way. Because she’s a part of why you fight so hard.”
Her laugh came broken, tear-soaked. She shook her head and finally stepped toward me instead of the painting. “Mum’s dream was to see me succeed in this sport. Every time I’ve wanted to quit, it’s her face I’ve seen… her voice I’ve heard, telling me to keep going. She’s the reason I’m here. The reason I can’t stop… no matter how hard it gets.”
I swallowed, heart hammering. “And you’re the reason I played tennis at all. All my life, I’ve been chasing you, Liv. Probably the hardest race I’ve ever run.”
For a second, I thought I’d said too much. My voice echoed off the beams, my heart laid bare, and she just… stared. Paris sparkled beneath us, but I couldn’t stop shaking. Then Olivia moved. One step closer, and suddenly she was pressed into my chest, warm, grounding, terrifying.
Her voice was quiet, but it cut straight through me. “No one’s ever made me feel like this. Tennis has been my partner my whole life, but now…” She swallowed, eyes burning into mine. “Now there’s you. And I don’t know what to do with it except tell you the truth.”
My chest was a fist. But she didn’t stop.
“You’ve been chasing me, but I’ve been waiting for you. Waiting for someone to see me, just me. Not the player, not the champion, not the headlines. And you do. You always have. You’ve given me more than I ever knew how to ask for.”
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t even blink.
Her lips curved, fragile but real. “So thank you. For all of it. For being the one thing that makes me want more than tennis.”
The air between us crackled. She leaned in, slow, deliberate, and I could feel the heat radiating from her, the pull I’d been chasing for months. Our lips met, and it was electric, like every nerve in me igniting, every wall I’d built crumbling under the weight of her touch. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t frantic. It was precise, deliberate, a promise in motion. She was choosing me, steady, full of love… and maybe a little fire too.
When we finally pulled back, her forehead rested against mine, her breath warm. I was dizzy, wrecked, and completely hers. Somehow I still managed to whisper, “There’s… one more thing.”
Olivia blinked, then actually laughed. “Of course there is,” she teased, brushing her thumb across my jaw. “With you, there’s always a surprise.” Her eyes sparkled as she added, gentler, “You’re kind of adorable for that, you know.”
I sheepishly grinned. “Yeah, well. This one’s not up here. It’s… where you’re staying. We should go.”
When we got down from the Tower, Bobby had already wrestled the painting into the back of the car like it was the crown jewels. He was swearing under his breath about “art insurance” while Bianca and Maddie squeezed into the backseat beside it, both smirking at us like they’d just been handed front-row seats to a rom-com. Olivia slid in next to me, thigh pressed against mine, her hand brushing mine like she wasn’t quite ready to let go.
Bobby threw me a look in the rear-view mirror, all cheek and zero subtlety. “Next stop: hotel’s rooftop. Everybody buckle up.”
By the time we pulled up to the hotel, Bobby, Maddie, and Bianca darted out first, hauling the painting like it was contraband and vanishing toward the service lift. Olivia and I barely made it inside before we got ambushed.
The hotel crew had rolled out an actual red carpet across the lounge, staff lined up in crisp uniforms, clapping and cheering. “Mademoiselle Smythe! Félicitations!” Flowers appeared in her arms, and one waiter actually bowed. Olivia, for once, looked floored. She kept shaking her head, cheeks blazing, trying to laugh it off, but I could see the way her chest lifted, the way she let herself glow under it.
