By his heavy sigh, I knew he understood. “Shit. You were forty-one when you had the accident.”
I nodded though he couldn’t see it. “I honestly don’t know if I’m more terrified of winning or losing.”
“My statistical observation about monkeys writing Shakespeare still stands,” he said gently. “Just because you reach the same ranking, doesn’t mean the same thing will happen.”
“Maybe not, but what if I’m just not meant to ever do any better than this? Perhaps this time I’ll just get a worse injury and—”
“We all get bad injuries, that’s tennis. And then you get better and you keep going.”
“Then maybe it’ll be something else!”
Silence but for the hum of the hotel, and the faint echoes of distant noise nine hundred kilometres away. Iknewit was stupid.Knewit made no sense. But knowing it wasn’t helping.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I—”
“No, don’t apologise,” Miles interrupted, ferocity in the words. “We say what we’re thinking, that’s the deal, yeah?”
“Yeah, but this train of thought is ridiculous.”
“Who cares? It’s the one you’re stuck on so I’m riding it with you until we can both get off.”
I hummed a suggestive sound. “I think there are better ways for us to both get off. It’s too bad you’re not alone. I am. All alone in my hotel room.”
“Hey! No deflecting from the conversation by making me horny.”
“Worth a try. Since I learned it from the best.”
The way his laugh lightened my heart would never get old. “Ouch!” he said. “Matteo has claws!”
“Tell me I’m wrong!” I laughed back.
“You know I can’t, I had just kinda hoped you hadn’t noticed.” The words had a shy edge, rueful and self-conscious, and the reminder that he was his own mess helped steady me.
“I did warn you I was getting wise to you,” I said.
“You did, yeah, but I refuse to be distracted here. Have you talked to Tomas about this?”
I smiled up at the shadowy ceiling, grateful for his tenacity. “No. I think I’ll be all right. I just needed to let it out.”
“You should still tell him. This is part of his job, right?”
“He doesn’t need to hear every single little—”
“This isn’t little! If you don’t tell him, I’ll call and tell him myself.”
That I knew he meant it was the worst part. Or perhaps the best. A reminder that there was no limit to the ways he would show up for me. “Thankfully, you don’t have his number!”
“Ah, but it turns out that Tina has Macca’s number.”
“What? Why?”
“I refused to ask, but I will absolutely make use of it if I have to. You need to talk to him about it, and no, not because I’m sick of talking about it and want to palm you off onto your coach, so don’t think it! But he’s the one who’s there with you, while I’m stuck in Sydney reliving Drew Jameson’s glory days.”
“All right! I’ll talk to him.”
The way I could all but hear his eyes narrowing down the phone line was impressive. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
