Three
Sydney didn’t haveReese and Grant Devereux shooting daggers at one another in her bedroom on her bingo card today. In this lifetime, actually.
Hallie was going to lose her mind when she found out what was transpiring in their shared suite—not to mention that she was missing it.
“I’m not leaving here until I get some answers.” Grant crossed his arms across his chest and leaned against the doorframe.
Sydney gave him an appraising stare, still not moving. “Guess you should order room service because you’ll be waiting a while,” she said flippantly, even if it felt like her world had been turned upside down in the last few minutes.
He looked the same, definitely no worse for the wear given what he’d put Sydney through. His hair was still coiffed. His skin was tanned from weekends at the golf course. Even his outfit, khakis and a polo shirt in the summer months, hadn’t changed.
It was like, so easily, he’d just moved on, that nothing for him had really changed.
She’d hoped that she’d never have to see Grant again, let alone during one of the hardest periods of her life. It was adding insult to injury that he was gallivanting around Stoneport while heprepared for his wedding, something that, a year ago, they’d been discussing as a couple.
But seeing him again had sparked something in her, a fire that she hadn’t felt in months. It was the same sensation she’d gotten before a big match, and it flared through her veins, waking her up from the inside out. She felt alive when she saw the confusion written across his face, very similar to how she’d felt last year when she’d walked into his condo in Boston.
The moment she had caught him cheating still didn’t feel real, even today. When she remembered it, the scene felt removed, like she was watching a movie instead of having lived it herself.
Grant had been with her for the first week of the French Open, where she’d never placed higher than the second round. By the time he left on Sunday to be back for work on Monday, she’d secured a place in the fourth round, her best showing on the clay courts that she’d always struggled with.
All year, she’d been focusing on her slide across the surface along with better timing for the ball’s change in pace. The bounce was higher on clay and became more inconsistent with the divots on the court. An extra two hours a day of practice at her training center’s clay courts had helped make her game formidable.
When she’d lost in the fourth round on Tuesday, instead of heading straight back to Florida, she’d grabbed a direct flight to Boston.
Knowing that she’d been absent more often in the months leading up to Roland-Garros, she wanted to show Grant how much she’d appreciated his support.
So she’d decided to surprise him.
Because she’dmissedhim.
Her stomach roiled at the memory.
Like an idiot, she’d misunderstood all of his flexibility when it came to her career. She’d believed he wanted her to focus on tennis because he was supporting her. Instead, her career had conveniently kept her out of his way for extended periods of time so that he could havean affair.
Or multiple.
She hadn’t stayed long enough to get all the details.
Still, he’d done an impressively good job of playing the doting boyfriend up until the moment it had all fallen apart.
Maybe that’s why the breakup had hurt so badly. Because she was still having trouble reconciling the person who’d lived a double life with the man she’d once loved.
Because the partner he’d been to her for the six years they’d been together hadn’t been a partner who’d seemed prone to cheating. They had nightly phone calls when she was in Florida for training. He sent flowers to her at every tournament he couldn’t attend. They’d talked about what their future would be like when she retired in a few years, with plans for marriage and children and a life that Sydney was excited to live.
She still felt robbed of the life she’d been building. Resentful that he’d walked away scot-free. Infuriated that he was getting married this summer, like his life hadn’t skipped a beat while hers had been shaken to the core.
Until this moment, she hadn’t realized how angry she was. She hadn’t let herselfaccepthow angry she was.
The three of them still stood around her room, saying nothing, but she knew Grant would fold first. He wanted to be the loudest voice in the room, and he never understood the power of silence, in letting your opponent fall on their own. You don’t need to beat someone if they beat themself.
So, just like clockwork…
“Is that why you’re staying in this dumpy inn, Reese? So you and my sloppy seconds can sneak around together?” Grant scoffed, like the idea was ludicrous, even as the supposed evidence stood side by side in front of him.
She’d have given Grant a point in the invisible tennis match she was watching play out if he hadn’t done exactly what she’d anticipated.
Sydney didn’t know who should be more offended: herself, on behalf of Hallie and their entire childhood of great memories,or Reese, who’d just become the owner of said inn. She wasn’t even going to touch the ‘sloppy seconds’ comment with a ten-foot pole.
