“Chris just texted. He pulled out of the US Open.”
I shot upright. “What?!”
Now she looked at me, voice serious. “He pulled out. Didn’t wait. Chris says he hasn’t slept since you left. Barely eaten. Said he couldn’t focus. That he just…left.”
I just stared at her. The mug sloshed in my hands.
“Fuck,” I whispered.
“Yeah.”
“He…he’s coming back? Just like that?”
Gwen nodded. “He loves you, Kate.”
My throat tightened. “I know.”
“And now he’s flying across the ocean to tell you again.”
I pressed my hand to my mouth.
Gwen’s voice softened. “You need to figure out what you want to say. Because I don’t think he’s coming back to fight with you.”
“Shit, Gwen,” I panicked, “what am I even going to say to him?Hey, sorry I stormed out and ruined your chance in New York…oh, by the way, I’m also pregnant with your baby after only two months of knowing you?”
She snorted. “Well, when you put it like that, yes. It sounds mental.”
“I mean it,” I groaned. “What if he…what if he thinks I did this on purpose? What if he doesn’t want this?”
Gwen shook her head, gentle but firm. “You need to tell him. And I think he’s going to take it better than you think.”
I took a deep exhale. I nodded slowly, my heart in my throat. I didn’t know how this was going to go, but Gwen was right. He deserved to know. It was his baby, and there was no question—I was keeping it.
I didn’t know what he’d say when he found out. But I knew one thing for sure: he was coming. And this time, I couldn’t run.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Jordan
August 21st
It wasclose to midnight by the time I made it back to the flat.
I couldn’t remember the drive from Heathrow. Couldn’t remember what I said to the cabbie or how I got through customs. Everything was white noise, and I was numb to it. There was just this single, driving force in my body that told me to get to her. Find her. Fix it.
I’d left the tour. Pulled out of the US Open without blinking. Didn’t give a shit what anyone thought. I couldn’t play. Not like this. Not while the only thing that mattered was across the ocean, hurting because of me. I’d rather torch my career than live with that reality.
I hadn’t slept. Hadn’t eaten since yesterday. My hands were raw from clenching them too hard on the flight, every replay of our fight digging in like barbed wire. The words I’d thrown at her wouldn’t stop looping in my skull.
But none of it mattered now. I was going to Cardiff in the morning. I was going to knock on her door, get down on my knees if I had to, and tell her I loved her. That I was sorry. That she was my everything, and I’d burn it all down before I ever let her feel like that again.
I unlocked the door and stepped inside. I stopped dead in my tracks.
The light was on.
And she was there.
She sat on the sofa in a pale sundress that looked like summer and heartbreak all at once. Her legs were tucked beneath her, arms wrapped tight around her chest, like she was holding herself together.
