Losing at Love (8 page)

“Are we training or not, lover boy?” Paolo called from the court, whacking a ball in their direction.

Alex caught it deftly and stood, grinning, a hand running over his head, sifting through his hair. “Duty calls. Check out my slice serve, would you?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

He jogged out to the court and Penny leaned back in her seat with a sigh, settling in to watch. She slipped the walking boot off her foot and the ballet flat off the other before stretching her legs out in the sun. She tried to keep her eyes on him, to check out his slice serve and see what was giving him an issue, but the warmth of the day and the steady rhythm of the ball soon had her eyes drifting closed again. Her opponent was Zina Lutrova this time, like in France, and on grass, Lutrova’s game would be even more formidable, the speed of her serve and groundstrokes amped up by the fast surface. Beating her on clay was one thing, but beating her on grass to win Wimbledon, that would be something else entirely.

~

Alex’s match that afternoon wasn’t much of a challenge. A win, 6-3, 6-4 without need of a third deciding set had them finished at the tournament well before their dinner reservation that night.

“You played well,” Penny said, sliding into the back of the car service that would drive them home from the courts.

“No thanks to you,” he quipped. “My slice was crap.”

“Your slice was fine. I’ve never been a good coach anyway.” She sighed as he lifted her feet and deposited them in his lap, unclasping the boot and letting it fall to the floor of the car. His thumbs massaged the area gently.

“How’s that feel?”

Just a few days ago, that area had been extremely sensitive to the touch, the slightest pressure sending spikes of pain through her leg. Now it had faded to almost nothing upon contact and actually felt good, hovering over that borderline between pleasure and pain.

She moaned, leaning her head back against the car window and sliding closer to him as his hands trailed up from her ankles over her calves. “You just played; shouldn’t I be giving
you
the massage?”

“Make it up to me later,” he murmured as his fingers slipped beneath the skirt of her dress, grazing the inside of her thighs just as the car pulled to a stop in front of his house. The driver’s eyes widened in the rear view mirror as they straightened themselves quickly, Penny grabbing her shoe and boot, Alex opening the door and then helping her out. The driver retrieved his bags from the trunk and then sped off into the night.

“I think we shocked him a bit.”

Penny laughed as they climbed the stairs and he unlocked the door. “I’m sure he’s seen worse.”

“Look at that,” he said as they climbed the stairs.

“What?” she asked, looking around, seeing nothing but the white townhomes and tree-lined gardens of his street.

“You’re not limping.”

She glanced down at her feet and smiled. There was only a twinge of pain, nothing crazy, so small she’d barely noticed it as she walked up to the house. Putting all her weight on her
good
foot, she rotated the ankle. “Feels okay.”

Alex slung his bag across his back and then swooped in, pulling her into his arms, bridal style, her shriek echoing down the nearly silent street. “Let’s keep it that way, shall we? The rest must be doing it good.”

“Or you have magical healing powers in your hands.”

“I’ve been saying that for years and finally I’ve found a girl who believes me.”

Kicking the door shut behind him, he carried her into the kitchen and set her down at the kitchen table.

“What time are they expecting us at Cecconi’s?” he asked, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and then one for her as well, before leaning on the island at the center of the room.

“Seven,” she said with a sigh, looking down at her dress, fingering the ends of her windblown hair. “I should change. There’ll be cameras and sponsors there tonight.”

“Do you really want to go?” he asked, putting down his bottle.

Penny wrung her fingers together as she looked up at him. Was she that easy to read or did he just always know exactly the right thing to say, voicing what she wanted before she even had a chance to do it herself. “If I said I didn’t…”

“A night in with you sounds absolutely perfect. I’d spend every night in if I could spend them with you. I love you, Pen.”

He’d said those words before, just moments after winning the French Open, but she hardly thought he remembered saying them. Neither of them had mentioned it since, but now the words hung in the air between them and it felt like the first time. No adrenaline, no crowd losing their minds in the background or cameras capturing every moment, just the two of them in his kitchen deciding to stay home rather than head back out into the London night.

Her ankle didn’t twinge at all as she stood and crossed the tiled floor or maybe it did and she just didn’t care. He offered her his hand and she took it, letting him pull her into his arms, her chest pressing into his as she let herself fall against him. She raised her head and he met her half way, swooping down and sealing his lips over hers, his hands gripping onto his hips and the kiss shifted from soft and sweet, the non-verbal response to his declaration, to something a little different, a little rougher. The scruff of his beard rasping against her skin in that deliciously familiar way.

Sliding her tongue against his, she was suddenly weightless, his hands under her thighs lifting her and spinning quickly, sitting her on the kitchen island, skirt pushed up around her waist. Fingers, calloused from hours upon hours of training danced across her thighs, pulling her to the edge of the counter. Penny reached behind him and tugged at the back of his shirt, pulling the soft cotton over his head before lightly scratching her nails down his back, around his sides and then up over the smooth muscles of his chest.

He groaned into her mouth before pulling away, a hand tilting her neck to just the right angle to run his teeth toward the sensitive skin of her neck. His fingers twined into the chain of the necklace he’d given her in France, the one with the 1936 British penny attached, the one she always wore.

“Like that?” he asked, though he had to know the answer.

Her hands flew to the button of his pants, fumbling with it for a moment before releasing the clasp and pulling down the zipper as he fisted his hands in the skirt of her dress. She lifted up a bit to free the material and as she rose up, bracing herself on his shoulders, a motion just behind them caught her eye. Light brown hair, eyes just like the ones belonging to the man still tugging at her dress and a hand over her mouth. Alex’s mother was standing in the doorway.

“Alex,” Penny said, tensing; he must have felt it, because he pulled away and then followed her gaze behind them.

“Christ! Mum, what are you doing here?”

Penny slid off the counter and winced as she landed a little awkwardly on her ankle, but more in anticipation of the pain than anything else. She straightened her dress and tried her best to hide a little behind Alex as he pulled his shirt back over his head, sending his hair in all directions.

“I’m so sorry,” Anna Russell said, in a soft English accent, different from her son’s but Penny couldn’t quite pinpoint how. “I thought you two would be gone. I wanted to take back that book I loaned you and I…I am…oh my goodness, my dear, I can’t apologize enough. I’m Anna.”

She peeked out from over Alex’s shoulder and tried to make her feet move, but they felt like she’d just played a five setter. Despite being all the way across the room, it felt like his mother was standing just inches from her, taking in the bite mark on her shoulder and the wrinkles in her dress, the insanity that must be her hair.

“Mum, just give us a minute, okay?”

“Of course,” she said and spun around back into the hallway.

“Oh my God,” Penny said, her feet finally moving as she paced the small space between the table and the island, back and forth, until Alex’s hands on her waist stopped her. “Oh my God, Alex.”

“It’s fine, Pen. She didn’t really see anything and she doesn’t care, I promise.”

“
I
care. She’s your mother and she just saw us almost…oh God.”

“Love, you’ve got to calm down. She’s going to love you and this will just be a funny story one day, something to tell the grandkids, eh?”

“You’re hilarious. This isn’t funny. I wanted her to like me, to know that I wasn’t just another…”

“She knows.”

“How can…

“Penny, she knows because I told her so. I told her I wanted her to meet you. That she was going to love you, like I do.”

“I can’t. I just want to die.”

“Right, okay. I’m going to go out there and tell her you’re too embarrassed to come out, all right? She’ll understand.”

“She’s going to think I’m a coward.”

“No, she won’t. I know my mum. She’s as red as a tomato out there right now too. Gimme a minute.”

“It’s okay. I’ll…I’ll come with you.”

Penny ran a hand through her hair, smoothed down the line of her dress, straightened her shoulders and took a step forward.

Alex’s warm hand slipped into hers. “You’re not walking to the gallows, Pen. She’s just my mum. Relax.”

“Right,” she muttered between her teeth as she forced her mouth into a smile. “I can’t wait for you to meet my dad.”

His hand tightened around hers, but she slipped free as she stepped through the doorway. Her smile became genuine as she heard a murmured, “Fuck,” from behind her and the thought that however the next few minutes went, it was going to be easy as pie compared with what her dad would put Alex through.

As soon as they made it into the hallway, they realized it was too late. Alex’s mom was gone. There was a note on the side table, neat scrawl across it. Alex read it and then passed it to her.

So sorry. Still on for dinner tomorrow night. Be safe!

“Your mother thinks I’m a…what do they call it here? A slag.”

“Pen, no she doesn’t. I promise you. We’ll all go out to dinner tomorrow and be laughing about this by the time dessert comes.”

June 18th

Indy was up early. Usually it took two different alarms and multiple snooze buttons to get her out of bed in the morning, but the last few days, her eyes had popped open just before the sun was peaking out over the horizon. In the corner of her room, her bags were stacked neatly. She packed the night before, making sure she had enough clothes to last her the two weeks in London. Penny had texted her strict instructions not to just bring shorts and t-shirts and had even told her to raid her closet if necessary to find some nicer dresses for nights out in the city. She hadn’t done it yet, but she’d left some room in her bags to do so after training.

Just a meeting with Dom this morning and a doubles training session with Jasmine and then she had the afternoon off before their early flight the next day. Throwing on some clothes for training, she pocketed her phone and then plugged her earbuds into her ears, letting The Clash’s
London Calling
blare through the tiny speakers. Cliché, maybe, but London was calling and it was going to be amazing.

She stepped out into the dorm hallway, lowering the volume just a little, only to hear the door across the hall click shut. Looking up, she met Teddy Harrison’s wide eyes head on. Some things never changed. “You’re up awfully early,” she quipped.

Teddy just rolled his eyes and Indy laughed, but then her eyes caught the sign on the door that hadn’t been there the day before. Bright pink bubble letters made out of construction paper that spelled out,
Welcome Back Amy!

“You didn’t,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

He shrugged, but rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Indy huffed and shook her head. “If you don’t know why that was a friggin’ stupid idea…” She glared at him for another second, before turning to leave.

“Look, just don’t say anything to…” he began, but she cut him off, whirling around to face him.

“Jasmine’s my friend, Teddy, and if you didn’t do anything wrong, then why shouldn’t I say anything?” He shifted back and forth on his feet, biting his lip. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

She jogged down the hallway and out the door before he could respond. She had to talk to Jasmine. Should she do it before or after? Definitely after. If she did it before, then it would screw with practice and Dom would be pissed. There were barely any people around yet, just a few of the grounds crew staff prepping the courts for a day’s worth of training. The air was warm and light, a soft breeze coming in off the ocean.

“Hey Roy,” she called as she entered the atrium, lowering the volume of the music so she could hear him. It was so early, he hadn’t even started his paper yet.

“Mornin’ Indy,” he called, taking a sip of his morning coffee. “You got a meeting with the boss man?”

“Yeah, I’m a little early.”

“No worries. That agent of yours went up there a few minutes ago.”

“Urg. Great. See you in a bit,” she said, raising the volume again, wanting to drown out whatever shouting match Caroline and Dom would inevitably be having when she got up to his office.

She took the stairs two at a time, keeping her eyes on the steps, not wanting to twist her ankle doing something as stupid as going to a meeting with her coach. The papers on the floor of Dom’s office should have been the first clue. Brightly colored folders, normally stacked neatly on the desk were scattered on the shiny wood floor, their contents strewn around them, except her eyes were drawn to the glare of the sun rising in the distance through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the office, blinding her as she reached the top of the stairway. That and the music blaring from her earphones probably drowned out the sounds that would have alerted her to what was happening just past the top of the stairs, so apparently, it was her destiny to jog into her coach's office for their weekly progress meeting only to find him with his pants around his ankles. At first, her brain didn't quite understand what she was seeing, so she just kept looking, past the horror of Dom's naked ass to the blonde hair, usually so perfectly coiffed into a twist or a knot in complete disarray, long, pale legs wrapped around his waist.