I removed the lid from the box. Inside were two rolled-up yoga mats, one a beautiful pastel pink, one black with grey swirls.
Frowning, I looked up at him. ‘What’s this?’
‘You said you love yoga.’
‘That thing that isn’t a sport? Yes, I do.’
‘So I thought we could do it together,’ he said, uncrossing his arms and running his hands through his hair instead.
‘What?’ I said, laughing lightly.
‘I want us to do the things you like. Together. Because I’m aware that so far, the time we’ve spent together has been very focused on me, and on tennis – on what I like, and where I need to be. But I want to learn everything there is to know about you and why you enjoy the things you do, and I thought that maybe we could start with yoga. You can teach me,’ he said, raising his eyebrows hopefully.
‘Why are you doing this now?’ I asked. ‘On the day of the Wimbledon final?’
‘I don’t know. I just had to say it before I bottled it. Because I love being around you, Ava, and I don’t want this – you and me – to end just because Dean says it can.’
I was holding my breath, I realised. If I could have done I would have sat down, right there on the doorstep.
‘Come on tour with me,’ he said, his voice low, quiet.
‘How can I leave everything here?’ I said, not understanding.
‘Everything like . . . ?’
Good point.
‘My home. This flat.’
‘The flat you shared with Charlie? That you can’t really afford, that reminds you of him?’
There were other things I couldn’t leave. Weren’t there?
‘My parents,’ I said, although that sounded feeble because how often did I see them, anyway?
Marcus gave me a look.
‘Okay, what about my job?’ I said.
‘You can write from anywhere, can’t you? And you can always fly back if you need to. And there’s a little thing called virtual meetings.’
I let all of this sink in.
‘Where would you be going next?’ I asked, still very sure that I couldn’t possibly go with him. He was getting carried away, he’d think differently if he won today, when he was back focusing on what was most important to him.
‘I’ll be heading to Washington after Wimbledon, then Toronto and Cincinnati. After that it’s the US Open in New York. You wouldn’t have to be at all of them if you didn’t want to be. But you might want to be at some?’ he said, wincing. ‘I know it’s a lot. And I wouldn’t expect you to give up your entire life for me – I know you have your own career to focus on, and I’d want it to be an equal arrangement. I support you as much as you support me.’
‘I don’t know,’ I said.
‘It’s a big decision, I get it. You have a life here. But it’s not like you can never come back. And I’ll probably be retiring in a few years’ time, playing less at the very least. It won’t be forever.’
Was he suggesting we had something that might outlive his tennis career? That there was a chance ofusgoing on forever? This seemed unlikely. Could he really go from avoiding commitment at all costs and picking up different women on a weekly basis to imagining a future with me? Was it less me and more my calming presence that he wanted? Was I a good-luck charm that he didn’t want to risk losing? Was I somehow unthreatening to him in a way that his exes weren’t?
He reached out to tuck an unruly lock of hair behind my ear, looking deep into my eyes. ‘I’m falling in love with you, Ava, just so you know.’
My eyes felt tight and bright. What if he was one of those guys who, once he knew he had you, lost interest instantly? He could have anyone he wanted. Why would he choose me? In the words of my mum when I was a child, what did I think was so special about me?
‘I’ll need to think about it,’ I said, my throat tight with emotion.
