Still, I found myself smiling a little. Maybe it was Archer. The way he lit up the room, effortless, magnetic, like he was born for this. He really did have my dad’s charm. I had to give him that.
But soon enough, the novelty wore off, and my mind started drifting, specifically to the utterly stupid image of me and Olivia dancing. I don’t even know where that came from, but it was soft and slow and made my chest feel ridiculous. I leaned toward Mom, hoping she didn’t notice how warm my face felt.
“Mom, just gonna go and congratulate the mixed doubles champion,” I said, praying my voice sounded steadier than I felt.
She narrowed her eyes at me instantly. “Don’t try to sneak away again.”
“I’m not,” I said, feigning innocence.
“No slipping out through the kitchen this time,” she warned.
I pressed a hand to my chest. “Would I ever?”
She didn’t look convinced.
“Back soon,” I promised, already halfway turned. I just needed some air... or silence... or both.
I found the side door without needing to think; I’d used it before, when I was younger. I used to do this every time mom won her Wimbledon titles, slipping away while the cameras chased her.
I open the sliding door and step out onto the balcony. I let myself breathe for the first time all night. It was quiet here. Peaceful.
The last time I’d been here, it was Archie who stole the spotlight with his first Wimbledon title. I remembered watching him parade around like he’d just conquered the whole city, as if Big Ben itself had tolled in his honor. Now I'm standing here again, just like last year, and the thought almost made me laugh.
The door behind me slid open.
I turned slightly, expecting maybe one of the staff or an usher to check if I was lost. Instead, a woman stepped out, tall, maybe in her mid-twenties, with a sleek dark green dress and sharp features. Her brown curls were pulled into a neat bun, a few tendrils escaping around her face. She paused the moment she saw me.
“Oh my god,” she said, eyes going wide. “You’re Alexandra Cadiz.”
I blinked. “Uh... yeah.”
She looked stunned for a moment. “Sorry, I just didn’t expect... well, I mean.. hi.” She stepped forward, holding out a hand. “I’m Maddie. Maddison Ruiz. I manage Olivia Smythe.”
I raised a brow but took her hand, giving it a brief shake. “You manage Olivia?”
“Yeah,” she said, a bit breathless. “God, this is weird just seeing Alex Cadiz, the mysterious queen.”
“Didn’t expect a fan encounter out here,” I said, half sarcastic, half awkward.
She shrugged, still smiling. “Didn’t expect to meet you hiding out on a balcony.”
I gave her a look. “I’m not hiding.”
She smirked. “Sure. You just needed air. From... the overwhelming joy of being in a room full of people.”
Okay, fair. “Touché,” I muttered, a reluctant smile tugging at my lips.
She relaxed a little. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to ask for a selfie.”
“Thanks,” I said, exhaling.
She glanced back toward the sliding door, then turned to me again with an apologetic smile. “This might be the least cool thing to say after meeting you, but... do you happen to know where the restroom is? I’ve been wandering for like ten minutes and didn't plan on crashing into the Alex Cadiz while looking for it.”
I tilted my head toward the hallway. “Go through the glass doors, turn left at the end, and it’s the second door past the staircase. Big gold plaque. Can’t miss it.”
“That was... disturbingly precise. How often do you sneak out here?”
I shrugged. “Often enough to know the floor plan.”
