Match Point

Chapter 22

22

When I open my eyes the next morning, Kieran is placing a mug of coffee down on the bedside table next to me. He’s dressed and ready in his sports kit, and he smells fresh and clean, so he must have already showered.

‘What time is it?’ I ask, yawning as I sit myself up.

‘Early,’ he replies, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and resting his hand on top of the duvet over my knee.

I reach out to take my hand in his. ‘How are you?’

He looks down at his feet.

After he stormed out of Warren House last night, he refused to talk about what happened. He said nothing on the short journey back to the flat and when I asked him if he was okay, he said he just wanted to go to bed and not talk about it. I respected his wishes and prepared to sleep on the sofa, happy to give him his space, but as I began sorting out the pillows in the living room in my pyjamas, he came in in his boxers and, giving me a strange look, quietly asked what I was doing. His tone was much softer and calmer, the rage he’d been battling with on the drive having subsided.

‘It’s fourth round tomorrow – you need a good night’s rest,’ I’d said with a reassuring smile. ‘I’m fine to sleep here. This sofa is really comfy.’

He’d come plodding over and wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder. ‘Will you come sleep with me tonight?’ he’d asked, his voice muffled in my hair.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes. I want you there.’

So I’d abandoned my sofa and climbed in with him into bed. He’d pulled me close to him and after we’d turned off the lights, he whispered sleepily, ‘You’re wearing the Snoopy.’

Which I was. I’d smiled to myself as his arm tightened round my waist and his hand clasped over mine. It’s so funny how much he loves that stupid T-shirt.

I thought that after the drama of the evening, it would be difficult to fall asleep, but safe and snug, nestled into my Kieran cocoon, I found myself drifting off easily. Everything will be better in the morning, I thought. But now it’s morning, I’m not so sure. From the look on Kieran’s face, things certainly don’t seem better.

‘The flat is surrounded by paparazzi,’ Kieran finally answers, his whole body deflating. ‘They’ve taken over the road. Today is going to be hell. I’m so sorry.’

‘They know what happened?’ I ask, reaching for my coffee.

He nods. ‘The general consensus is that I’m the bad guy, and Chris is the hero.’

My mug pauses halfway to my lips. ‘Excuse me? How is that possible?’

‘His people got to work very quickly,’ he explains quietly, deep creases etched between his eyebrows. ‘The story that the majority of publications have run with is that, according to “sources”—’ he uses his fingers to mimic the quotation marks and rolls his eyes ‘—I saw Chris talking to you, jumped to the wrong conclusion and punched him before he had the chance to explain that he was generously offering my aspiring-artist friend the chance to meet some of his contacts in the business. Apparently, he’s forgiven me for the misunderstanding. Very generous of him,’ he adds drily.

‘Surely people won’t believe you hit him just because you saw him talking to me. That’s ridiculous.’

‘Not that hard to believe when they see me lose my temper on court over a bad call.’

‘That’s different. And he said horrible things! He was pushing you!’

‘Yeah, but the reporters don’t know that.’

‘Then maybe we should tell them. They should know the truth.’

He shakes his head. ‘I don’t speak to the press. Not about stuff like this.’

‘But if they knew—’

‘If I told them the truth, I’d have to tell them exactly what he said,’ Kieran interjects firmly. ‘I didn’t punch him because he spoke to you, although, I’ll admit, that made me want to punch him.’ He hesitates, raising his eyebrows. ‘Did he hit on you?’

‘If I say yes, are you going to punch him again?’

‘I’d hunt him down and kill him.’

‘Then, no. He was, in fact, telling me how he thinks you’re a real stand-up guy.’

‘He did, didn’t he? I am going to kill him.’

‘I’d really rather you didn’t.’

He sighs. ‘If I promise you I won’t, can you tell me what he said?’

‘He may have implied that his wife was away and I should join him for a drink,’ I say cautiously, wincing at the recollection. ‘I knew he was an arsehole right from the off.’

Kieran’s expression has darkened. He’s too angry to speak, his mouth pressed in a thin, straight line. When he finally opens it, he utters, ‘I should have punched him harder,’ in a low, threatening growl.

‘I think the punch you threw was good enough,’ I say, attempting a light laugh to crack the tension. ‘Kieran, it doesn’t matter. He’s a sleazeball – forget about him. You have to focus on the tournament. You’re doing so brilliantly. I’m sorry that I caused all this mess. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I don’t know how, but I’ll think of something.’

He furrows his brow. ‘Why are you sorry? Because of me, you have reporters swarming the flat and prying into your life. I’m sorry.’

‘If it wasn’t for me talking to him last night, you wouldn’t have punched him.’

‘I’ve told you, I didn’t punch him because he was talking to you. I punched him because of what he said about Aidan.’

I pause, frowning at him. ‘Aidan.’

He nods silently.

‘I don’t remember him saying anything about Aidan,’ I admit, racking my brains and replaying the incident over and over in my head.

‘He said I wouldn’t win because I couldn’t handle the pressure. Something that runs in the O’Sullivan blood,’ Kieran says, looking pained.

‘Wait, you think he was talking about Aidan?’ I stare at him in disbelief. ‘I just assumed he was talking about you and your dad or something, I didn’t… surely he wouldn’t stoop that low.’

‘Yes, he would,’ Kieran says gravely, a glaze of sadness over his eyes. ‘He would, and he did.’ He swallows, his forehead creasing as he looks down at his hands in his lap. ‘Aidan had depression. Not many people know that. My dad didn’t like to talk about it and he felt it was a family matter. He said he wanted to protect him, so we kept it quiet. Aidan had been on meds since his teens and… he’d struggled.’ He pauses, sitting there quiet and pensive. When he speaks again, his voice is much softer. ‘Most people know that he died of an overdose. They don’t know that we’re not sure it was an accident.’

I feel sick, my gut wrenching in pain.

‘Kieran,’ I whisper, hot tears filling my eyes, ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘There were always rumours surrounding his death,’ he says, lifting his chin and inhaling deeply through his nose. ‘Since his issues with mental health weren’t widely known, a lot of people blamed what happened on the pressure of being in the sport. They think he couldn’t handle it.’ When he turns his head to look at me, his eyes are glistening. ‘They’re wrong. Tennis helped him. He came alive when he focused on the next match. He didn’t mind the pressure. He enjoyed the competition. You should have seen him play, Flossie. He was born to play tennis. The one place he felt safe and in control was on the court.’

I sniff, giving him a watery smile.

‘I punched Chris Courtney last night because he was implying Aidan couldn’t handle the pressure, and that’s why he did what he did.’ Kieran’s face crumples and he reaches up to rub his forehead. ‘I shouldn’t have risen to it.’

Unable to fight the need to hold him any longer, I shuffle down the bed and move so I’m kneeling next to him before I gently wrap my arms around him, clasping my hands over his far shoulder and resting my forehead on the one nearest to me. He doesn’t say anything, but reaches up to place his hand over mine and dips his chin to rest on my forearm. We stay like that for a moment, and I lose myself in focusing on his breathing. It’s shaky and uneven at first, but eventually becomes slow and steady. When I lift my head to look at him, I don’t loosen my grip, refusing to let him go quite yet.

‘Thank you for telling me,’ I say quietly.

He turns his head and leans in, nudging his nose against mine before he kisses me, slow and gentle, his fingers brushing along my arm as his body slowly swivels towards me and then trailing around my shoulder and down to my waist. He pulls me closer as our kiss deepens and I bring my hands to rest on the nape of his neck.

When we break the kiss, he keeps his eyes closed and presses his forehead against mine. He lets out a small, contented sigh and a gratified warmth glows and swells in my belly as I interlace my fingers behind his neck, holding him there. No matter how close I am to this man, I want to be closer.

‘Will you be at the match today?’ he asks. ‘If you’re free, I’d like you to come sit with the team and watch the fourth round.’

I bite my lip. ‘Kieran, I’d love to come, but after last night, I don’t think Neil will be happy for me to be there. In terms of winning him over, it couldn’t have gone worse for me.’

‘I’m the one playing. Neil doesn’t get a say in who I invite to watch,’ he states firmly, getting up from the bed to go get his tennis bag ready. ‘And with the headlines today, I’m going to need all the help I can get. I’d like you there.’

‘If you really think it will help, then sure,’ I say, unable to stop a smile at his insistence. ‘I feel very honoured.’ I hesitate, watching him carefully. ‘Have you spoken to Neil yet? He looked mad when we left.’

‘I’m sure he’ll want to talk when he picks me up in a minute. I’ve had a lot of emails from Nicole, my publicist. I do not envy her this morning.’

‘You certainly keep your publicity team on their toes.’

‘Speaking of publicity, Nicole has mentioned that you and she might want to have a chat today about a few things.’

‘What sort of things?’

‘What to say to the press, what not to say—’

‘That’s easy,’ I cut in, taking a large gulp of my coffee, ‘I just won’t talk to them at all. There. She doesn’t need to come over now.’

‘I think she’ll also want to check you’re… prepared.’ He finishes zipping up his bag and throwing it on the end of the bed, before he puts his hands on his hips and gives me a hard stare. ‘Last night changed things, Flossie. I couldn’t go for a jog this morning, because reporters pretty much set up camp out on the road last night. They are all over this story, and a large component of it is you.’

‘Me?’ I clasp my mug, raising my eyebrows. ‘But there’s nothing to say about me.’

‘They’ll find something to say; they always do. God, what a fucking mess.’ He sighs, lifting his eyes to the ceiling. ‘I really am sorry, Flossie. We’ll do our best to lie low and hopefully this will blow over soon. I don’t know how I’m supposed to focus on the match today with all this shite going on.’

‘You’re just going to go play a bit of tennis, remember? One point after the other,’ I say, trying my best to put him at ease. ‘A few silly printed words don’t need to affect your forehand. Nothing matters out there on the court but the tennis. Everything else is background noise.’

‘I know. I could have done without the extra attention, that’s all.’

‘You’re going to have extra attention anyway if you get through to the fifth round.’

‘You mean, the quarter-finals.’

My eyes widen at him. ‘Next round is the quarter-finals? Shit,’ I blurt out, as he nods solemnly.

‘I’m going into this as the major underdog and, thanks to today’s headlines, I doubt the crowd will be on my side.’

‘I’m on your side,’ I state, pleased to have the opportunity to say it out loud. ‘You won’t feel alone today. Is there anything I can do to help lessen the nerves?’

‘Oh I can think of a fair few things, but annoyingly I don’t think we have time.’

I roll my eyes. ‘I’m serious, Kieran. Get your mind out the gutter.’

‘You can wear the Snoopy T-shirt.’

‘You’re obsessed with this thing,’ I giggle, resting back into the pillows.

‘Snoopy is one of my favourite cartoons,’ he says matter-of-factly, checking his watch and swinging his bag over his shoulder.

‘Wait, are you serious?’

‘Yeah,’ he says with a lazy grin. ‘The moment I saw you wearing that on my first morning here, I knew I didn’t stand a chance.’

‘And here I was thinking I would wear my sexiest lingerie for later, but it turns out there’s no need. I can just wear the Snoopy T-shirt.’

His eyes light up. ‘I don’t think there’s any harm in a bit of variety.’

I smirk into my mug. ‘That so?’

He comes round the side of the bed and leans in to kiss me on the lips. ‘I’ll make sure a car is arranged to pick you up to bring you to the grounds, okay?’

‘Thank you,’ I whisper, a thrill shooting through me as he kisses me again before he goes to leave. ‘Good luck for today.’

‘Why would I need luck when I’m just going to play a bit of tennis?’ he calls back over his shoulder.

*

FLORA

Have you seen what they’re saying about me?

IRIS

Have you seen you in that DRESS?

????????

‘Rumoured property heiress’

That’s what one paper has called me!!

I think that sounds quite cool

Yeah, it would be cool if I WAS one

But Dad’s wife isn’t exactly planning on

leaving me her family’s empire

Have you seen all this stuff about Kieran?

Some people are on his side

Anyway ignore the stories

I believe your version of events

Most people know that the tabloids exaggerate

So embarrassing

My dad’s PA called to ‘check in’

He basically asked me wtf was going on

Don’t tell me your dad isn’t secretly excited

you’re dating Kieran O’Sullivan

Maybe

He was always big on sports

Some people online are saying it’s really romantic,

Kieran throwing a punch for me

Others are calling me a gold digger

Idiots

Don’t they know you’re a property heiress?

Stop reading the comments, Flora

Who cares what anyone else thinks?

Thank you for not writing

anything about this on your blog

It’s not the story I’m interested in

I’m interested in Kieran’s new lease of life on court

He’s playing better than ever

What a time for a comeback

Everyone thought he’d retire but look at him!

He’s amazing

I’m going to the match this afternoon

Of course you are

His lucky charm??

Don’t you start

It’s got nothing to do with me

You sure about that?

I’ve tracked Kieran’s career a long time

He started well and then things fell apart

He held on in there, but his spark had faded

Now it’s back

Maybe he got tired of everyone

telling him he couldn’t do it

Maybe he’s found love

Shut up

I’m being serious

At the Australian Open this year, I would

have told you that his heart wasn’t in it anymore

Watch him play this afternoon

You’ll see

See what exactly?

He’s playing with heart again

And it’s making him unbeatable

*

Later, when Kieran wins match point, the court erupts with noise. Everyone is on their feet cheering and clapping, the Irish fans chanting support. I wait for him to finish shaking hands with his opponent and the umpire before he looks to me.

With a sly smile, I quickly unzip my jacket to reveal the Snoopy T-shirt underneath.

He tips his head back and barks with laughter, before nodding at me, a dopey grin on his face. I beam back at him, lifting my hands above my head as I continue clapping along with his growing fan base until he’s walked back through the players’ tunnel and out of sight.