Chapter 22
twenty-two
Matteo’s arms open when I step onto our back porch, his body dwarfing the old, banged-up patio furniture I found on the side of the road my junior year of high school.
I sink into his lap, finally allowing silent tears to flow.
I’ve never been so emotionally drained in my life.
He presses kisses to my temple, wiping tears from my face and murmuring that no matter what happens, I’ll be okay.
“You leave a message for your dad?” he asks when the well runs dry.
“Mm-hmm. Don’t know if I’ll ever see him again.
” While the four of us agreed on boundaries—him living somewhere else indefinitely, not contacting us until he starts a rehab program chosen by one of the twins, working for his own money—the call had to be made by me.
I’m the one who has been enabling him for years.
Plus, it’ll be up to them to enforce the rules.
“But you gave him grace after everything. You’re still giving him a chance to redeem himself.”
“I hope he takes it.”
To distract myself, we slip into mindless talk; the hard court season, which players we’d most like to play doubles against, whether we’ll make it through qualifying.
When we come to a lull, I gaze out over the small, unkempt yard, thinking of all the time I spent out here with my siblings over the years.
The sun set long ago, but the back porch light casts enough of a glow on the overgrown grass to remember.
“It’s all going to work out,” he murmurs. “Your siblings love you. It’s clear, even in Chase. Hell, everyone who meets you loves you, and how could they not?”
My eyes flick to his, my body leaning to get closer to him. “Everyone?”
He looks at me meaningfully, and I realize it’s that same fond look he’s been giving me for weeks. Eyebrows slightly pinched, adoration in his eyes, the tiniest hint of a smile. My heart ratchets up. “Everyone.”
I plant a peck on his lips before resting my head on his shoulder. The pressure of the day releases its claws from my back, finally. “Tell me more.”
“I can’t even pretend it wasn’t true the first time I saw you in Austin’s box.” His lips twitch like he’s thinking of the moment. As if I exist in his head, a memory for him to return to.
I scoff playfully. “Yeah right. You couldn’t even remember my name.”
“Not true. That’s just what I wanted you to believe.”
“What?”
“I remember you sitting in our box during Indian Wells. I saw you beside Eli and Lilian, and I assumed you were their daughter.” He shrugs.
“I’m not proud of it, but a part of me resented you for the life of privilege I was sure you had as their child.
So yeah, I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in my life, and I hated it.
Didn’t stop me from letting a ball roll onto your court so I could ask for it back.
Or hanging on your every word after our quarterfinal match at the Miami Open, even if none of them were directed at me. ”
My cheeks have gone warm and, I’m sure, bright red. “Matteo, you called me Delia at dinner in Paris. We’d been properly introduced twice before then.”
A wider smile plays on his lips. “You were wearing this lavender linen dress with straps that tied on your shoulders. Drove me crazy. We had barely spoken more than a few sentences before that, yet I kept thinking about what it might have been like to pull the ties off. Step back and watch.”
Now I know my cheeks are red.
“I wasn’t happy with myself for how entranced by you I was.
I was dealing with so many of my own demons that being attracted to someone who brightened up every room and who was never going to think twice about me only made my life more difficult.
That was also the dinner when Eli accidentally let it slip that you took care of all your siblings on your own and I realized you are so good.
Your radiance came from lifting everyone up, and I’m…
me. It pissed me off. Pissed me off more that it made me a thousand times more intrigued by you. ”
I’m flummoxed. Matteo nudges me, waiting for my response. “At Wimbledon…?” I manage to get out.
“You were getting ready to go on the court and I didn’t want to disturb you.
Plus, we were pretty much alone and I hadn’t talked to you without Austin present.
I was worried I would spew something nonsensical and you would sense the crush I was harboring.
” He huffs a laugh. “Then I went and made a fool of myself at the US Open anyway. Could hardly take my eyes off you during our matches. I feared even Austin would notice that my concentration was slipping, which is not something that happens often.” He rests his temple against mine.
“Need you to stop looking so stunning when you’re sitting in my box. ”
I shoot back through time, remembering each of our interactions this year. Putting those moments in a different light. In the light that he saw them in. “Why didn’t you tell me? And what about that first week at the academy? You were standoffish and weird, and then suddenly you weren’t.”
“Tell you what? That I couldn’t stop thinking about you despite having talked to you only a handful of times about very mundane things?
Because I was certain you would have no interest, and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.
As for my behavior when I arrived, my dad had just reached out, and that, in conjunction with Austin’s injury, threw me for a loop.
But then he mentioned feeling bad about you losing mixed, and I couldn’t help myself.
“It was a chance to play with you, spend time with you, maybe make you see I’m not the person everyone thinks I am.
Maybe learn to see the world the way you do.
But you didn’t give an answer, and I figured that was answer enough.
I tried to stay out of your way until Austin told me you were still thinking about it—the day you reintroduced yourself to me.
Being that close to you was intoxicating. I wanted you to agree so badly.”
I shift, my chest aching at the sight of him with his head bowed.
Placing a hand on either side of his face, I press my lips to his before whispering, “I’m sorry if I made you believe I wouldn’t have been interested in talking to you.
That you felt talking to me would make me uncomfortable.
I’ve loved getting to play with you. You’ve made this offseason fun.
Made me excited to play mixed without feeling stressed about how losing will impact my life off court.
” I shake my head with wonder. “I can’t wait to play with you in Melbourne. ”
Matteo’s muscled arms wrap around me and pull me into him as he stands.
I understand what he can’t say. What the tightening of his arms around me means, my cheek pressed to the hollow of his throat.
“That thing you said before,” I say. “I’m almost there too.
I don’t know what the season will look like, and I’m not sure what I can give you right now, even without the stress of paying for everything for my family. But I want to try.”
When he throws me over his shoulder, pure joy in his eyes like I’ve never seen before, I giggle. Maybe I can make this work. I’ve persevered. Got myself to the top one hundred, then to the top fifty. Got myself a great sponsor because of all my effort and dedication.
Hope for the future has never tasted so sweet.