My grin curved slow, deliberate. “You hallucinate like that often?”
She gave an exaggerated sigh. “Sadly, no. This was definitely a first.”
“Good.” I caught her hand and threaded our fingers together, anchoring her there against me. “Because I want to ruin you for anyone else.”
“Jesus, Taylor.” She shook her head laughing, but she didn’t move away.
“You’re in my head, Kate.” The words came out rougher than I meant, scraped raw by the truth of them. “I’m supposed to be thinking about Reed, about my serve, about bloody footwork…and all I can hear isyou. The way you sounded last night. How you say my name when you come for me.”
Her eyes flicked aside quickly, like I’d cracked something open she wasn’t ready to let me see.
“You should sleep,” she whispered against my lips. “Big day tomorrow.”
I pressed a kiss to her, lingering. “You’ll be there.”
Her gaze softened then, so much it stopped me cold.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
God, she meant it. I felt it in my chest, as sturdy as the bones beneath.
“You’re ridiculously needy for someone about to win a Wimbledon semi-final,” she teased, her smile curving now.
“Not needy,” I murmured, letting my hand trail lower until her breath hitched. “Obsessed. There’s a difference.” I leaned close, my mouth brushing her ear. “And if you think I’m letting you get any sleep after that, you’re dreaming, sweetheart.”
Chapter Seventeen
Kate
I carefully tookthe narrow steps to my seat, one hand gripping the rail, the other clutching my phone like a lifeline. The hush of Centre Court buzzed with anticipation. Low murmurs of conversation, the crisp shuffle of programmes, the faint splash of Pimm’s sloshing in plastic cups as people shuffled their way to their seats.
My stomach wasn’t doing butterflies. There was nothing fluttery about this. This was full-blown, high-stakes, extreme-edition nerves.
Chris spotted me as I slipped into the green, plastic seat behind him. He gave a polite nod, which was very measured if a little unreadable. I returned it with a faint smile. We hadn’t been formally introduced, but I think he liked me well enough. But he was Jordan’s coach first. That line of loyalty was quietly, firmly drawn. Still, I caught the way his gaze flicked back to the court within seconds, scanning it with that laser focus coaches seemed to be born with. Though I couldn’t help but wonder if he thought I was a distraction, a hindrance. I mean, the timing of this whole thing wasn’t exactly ideal for Jordan, I’d admit.
I’d kept it simple today, minimal makeup, hair scraped into a low knot with a few strands loose around my face. I’d worn a soft floral Réalisation Par dress. The kind you could wear to lunch in Richmondand disappear in. I wasn’t here to make a statement. I wasn’t trying to be anyone significant. I was just here for him.
I was trying my best to blend in and not be seen, but the air felt different today. I caught a few sideways glances. One or two heads that turned and others that didn’t turn back quickly enough. And then suddenly—click. The sharp, unmistakable sound of a camera shutter.
Shit.
I tried to keep my gaze forward, spine straight. I adjusted my sunglasses further up my nose, trying to disappear behind them. I pretended not to notice, but my pulse went skittering like the lens had set something off. I could feel the heat blooming at the back of my neck, all hot and shameful.
This was the part I hadn’t thought through. Being near him meant being near all of…this. I’d spent the last two days in a bubble. It felt weird that just being connected to him would make me visible, like public property, and I wasn’t sure if I liked it. Being known for beinghisand not for anything that I’d done. I’d worked too hard in life for that.
I swallowed and glanced down at my phone to give my thoughts somewhere else to go. The last message I’d sent him still sat on the screen:
Me
Good luck. I’ll be waiting, whatever happens.
He’d replied within a minute. Just a single red heart.
No words, but somehow that said more than a string of them ever could.
The umpire’s voice cut through the noise.
“Ladies and gentlemen…please welcome Jordan Taylor!”
