I gave them both a look. “Was that a compliment?”
“Don’t push it,” Coach Kit said, smirking as he handed me a water bottle.
Bobby nudged me with his elbow. “Next time, maybe smile once. Just for the cameras.”
“I did,” I said. “Internally.”
That made them both laugh, and the tension slipped off my shoulders a bit.
We made our way toward the exit, press fading behind us, the hotel van already waiting by the curb.
By the time we made it to our hotel room, headlines were already circulating.
Bobby, sitting across from me in the hotel lounge, grinned without even looking up from his phone. “Well, congrats. You’ve broken the internet again.”
He turned the screen toward me. A paused video of me at the press conference, mid-sentence. The headline underneath read:
‘We’re different people,’ Alex Cadiz responds to a comparison with twin brother Archer.
“You didn’t just show up,” Bobby said, smirking. “You gave them a soundbite.”
Coach Kit stood and stretched. “Alright, enough with the conference. Early hit tomorrow. Let’s get you moving sharp again. You haven’t played a match in months, don’t try to win the whole tournament in one practice.”
I nodded, the weight of it all catching up in my bones. “Copy that.”
Cincinnati always felt like the calm before the chaos of New York. But this time, I wasn’t just easing back in. I was being watched.
Later that afternoon, back at the hotel, I was half-reclined on the edge of the bed, remote in hand, flicking through the tennis coverage. Montreal feed.
I landed on the tennis stream without even thinking about it. Olivia’s match was mid-second set. The commentators were mid-sentence, talking about her clean footwork, how she was constructing points with more confidence than ever.
She looked good. Really good. There was something sharp in the way she moved, like she’d finally shaken something off.
I didn’t even notice Bobby walked in until he plopped onto the bed opposite mine with a loud sigh and a bag of chips. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just crunched through a few chips before tilting his head my way. “You know, for someone who claims to just be‘keeping up with the tour,’you’ve got some suspicious timing.”
I gave him a look. “It’s a good match.”
“It’s a good Olivia match,” he grinned, unbothered. “You’ve got a crush the size of Center Court. It's not even subtle.”
“I don’t have a—”
“Please. You follow her results like it's your job, you literally paused a conversation yesterday when her name popped up on the news, and don't think I missed the way you watched her Wimbledon Finals.”
I sighed, sinking back against the headboard. “Okay. Maybe I do.”
There was a pause, not awkward, just quiet.
Bobby nudged his shoe against mine. “Does she know?”
I shook my head slowly. “No, I don't want her to know. It's just a small crush, okay?”
“But it meant something,” he said gently.
“Yeah,” I admitted. “She made me feel like myself again,” I continued. “Not the comeback. Not the shoulder rehab. Not the twin of the guy everyone keeps comparing me to.”
Bobby looked over, his voice lighter now. “Okay, well, reminder that you’re Alexandra freaking Wilson-Cadiz. You break the internet by talking. And I know Archer’s your person, but just so you know... you’ve got me too. You don’t have to go through all this alone.”
For a moment, silence stretched, and then I found myself smiling faintly. “It’s kind of mad, isn’t it? We’ve known each other since I was, what, thirteen?”
