Chapter Twenty-Three
Twenty-Three
After stepping out of his rainwater shower, Lulu snuggled into the robe Tyler had left for her. It was, as promised, soft and fluffy as a cloud wrapped in bunny fur. She gathered her wits and her nerve and waltzed into the living room.
She found him waiting on the couch. His hair was damp against his neck and he wore a matching white robe with Blue Seas embroidered on the chest. “Wait a sec,” Lulu squinted at him. “Where did you shower?”
Tyler squirmed. “In the…spare bedroom.” He spread his hands to indicate his lack of culpability. “But…if you and Zoe want it, it’s a lock-off, so it has its own entrance…”
Lulu’s shoulders relaxed. “Thanks,” she said. “That’s kind of you.”
An awkward eleven seconds hung between them.
“I’ll go get Zoe.”
“Lu. Let’s talk,” he said at the same time.
Why was this so hard for her? “Okay.” She stood there, waiting for him to begin. But ultimately, she realized the ball was in her court. Heck if she knew exactly what she would serve, but she knew it was up to her to get the game going.
Dragging some courage in through her nostrils, she nodded. “I owe you an apology.” It took a moment for her to collect the words into the sentences she needed. “My aunt told me about…about how she asked you to stay away from the funeral.”
Tyler ducked his head and ran his fingers through his mass of waves. “Yeah. She did. But…Can we sit down?”
She glanced toward the wall that divided Tyler’s rooms from her aunt and uncle’s.
Her family was right next door. How audible would their conversation be?
Unlike the portable bathroom at the pickleball courts, she hoped the walls were thick.
And besides, this time, she did not intend to get into a shouting match.
“Sure,” she murmured and sank onto the swanky sofa. Relief washed across Tyler’s face, and he took a seat across from her in the plush armchair.
Lulu began, “My aunt told me what happened. How she told you I felt guilty. Because you…influenced me to defy my parents, and honestly, that’s not what happened.
I mean, yeah, I did feel a lot of guilt about my parents’ death, but it had nothing to do with you.
And I know it wasn’t my fault and blah, blah, blah.
I’ve been to a lot of therapy, you know. ”
Tyler opened his mouth to speak, and she lifted a hand to stop his words.
“But it did burn me. And it still burns. It hurts that you didn’t try harder.
That you didn’t try harder to support me back then.
You were my best friend, Tyler. My best friend!
And even after the funeral, I mean, there were years there.
And what? Not a word from you. It’s like you dropped off the planet. Or like you hoped I had.”
He shook his head as if her words made no sense.
“Lu. That’s…that’s not at all what—” He stilled himself and blew out a breath, and when he started up again, humility had replaced the defensiveness in his voice.
“You’re right. Yes. Your aunt told me to stay away from the funeral.
And yes, I felt terrible that you thought I had forced you to go against your parents.
You know I thought they were strict. But it was always to protect you.
And I felt awful when they died, and really awful that I didn’t go to the funeral.
But then. Also. Yeah. You’re right. It was an easy out for me. ”
She stared at him, waiting for more.
“I looked for you. I did. A year or two after that, but in those days, you know, it was harder. I think you moved in with your aunt, and I couldn’t find you. But…I shouldn’t have let it go.”
He studied the back of his hand as he spoke.
“And, like I said, it’s no excuse for leaving you on your own when you were grieving, but that pro tennis tour…
I had only been on board for a month or so.
And the competition was a lot tougher than I could have imagined.
I mean, remember when you were the only freshman on the varsity team, and you had to fight to earn your place?
It was kind of like that. But the difference was, you had a right to be there.
“But me?” he continued. “I felt like an impostor on the pro tour. Not only was I the least experienced of all of them. But I really wasn’t as good as the rest of them. And I was beginning to get the feeling that I was selected not for my skills but for my…I guess my draw.”
It wasn’t his ego talking. Lulu knew what he meant. Between his good looks and his mischief-making, he pulled a lot of attention to that tennis tour.
“It was embarrassing. I felt like such a poser. And then your parents were killed. And your aunt told me not to come. I didn’t know what to do. I just…I fell into a serious funk. For a long time.”
“You never told me any of that. About how you felt on the tour. Not even before…”
His eyes flicked to the tiled floor. “I know. I didn’t want you to see me that way. I was afraid you’d think I was a failure.”
“Oh, Tyler.” Her heart hurt for him. She had assumed he never doubted himself. That his bravado was backed by a mountain of confidence. But now that the layers of his game were peeled away, she could see him, the real Tyler, point for point.
He looked to the ceiling, blinking at the moisture in his eyes.
“It wasn’t until I switched to pickleball that I finally felt that people saw me for my skills.
Even now, I have to fight for people to see past who they think I am.
I want them to see my strategy, my athleticism.
Not just this pretty face,” he said, masking his vulnerability with a low laugh.
“Lu,” he continued, his voice ripe with emotion. “I was immature. And…self-absorbed. And. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you then. And I’m sorry I held back information that would have helped you to trust me. Like about Sapphire.”
“And Olivia,” she added.
“Her too.” He nodded, aligning his eyes with hers. “I’m sorry I wasn’t more clear about how I felt about you. How I feel about you.”
Now her eyes had begun to sting from the wetness collecting there. She pinched her lids together, blinking away her reaction.
“And then the years went by,” he said. “And I kept wondering…if I was famous enough, if I put myself out there enough, maybe you’d see me, and you’d…remember what we had. But then I realized that you probably had seen me.” He shrugged.
When she admitted that truth with a small nod, he fell silent.
Tyler could not have known the push-pull she experienced each time she happened upon his image.
How tempted she had been to contact him, now that such things were possible, even easy.
Every time she spotted his photo from the corner of her eye in the grocery store checkout, or was confronted with that ad where his entire body reclined on the side of a bus, she’d felt that painful draw—the duality of wanting to look, wanting to read it, but knowing that would trigger…
what? The frustration of feeling betrayed.
And the angst of having lost something that had felt right.
At last, Tyler said, “I guess you must have decided that your life was pretty perfect without me.”
“Perfect? My life?”
Lifting himself to his feet, Tyler faced her and gestured at her.
“Look at you! You’re always…making the right decisions.
Becoming a mom. Getting a regular job and a paycheck and being a responsible adult all the time.
While I’m out…I dunno…getting divorced and getting kicked off the tour.
You’ve got it together. You’re so organized and ready,” he said.
“Your life is all arranged. It’s so…perfect. ”
She stared at him like his forehead had grown wiggly insect antennae.
“Me?!” she asked, surprised that was how he saw her. “You’re the one who is the famous pickleball pro and wins gold at all the tournaments and never gets beaten by anybody unless you let them, and…” Her pitch inched higher as her adrenaline rose into her throat. “And went and got married!”
Why was she so upset? Rationally, she understood that she had been out of the picture for years.
That he had looked but had not found her.
What was he supposed to have done? That she, so beleaguered by his betrayal, had avoided every reminder of him, had flinched at the photos in the checkout line, had all but lost her job over that flipping flaming paddle video.
But still. She felt the tension press against her chest just being so near to him.
They were kindling to each other. Dry tinder, waiting to fight or waiting to love, and she wasn’t sure if it mattered which one came first or if they happened at the same time.
Just one spark, one little spark, and they would burst into flames.
He took a step back, shaking his head. “Yes. Lu. I got married,” he said. “I didn’t see you running into the church to object.”
Lulu shut her eyes and told herself to pause. Just breathe. And she decided the least exhausting way to work her way through this conversation would be to simply speak the truth.
“I object.” She said it like the words were squeezed from her throat. “There. Okay? I object.”
He looked at her, and she couldn’t tell if it was pain or incredulity.
“You promised,” she said, her voice raw against her throat. “You promised to be there for me. You promised—” Her words caught. “You promised to protect my heart.”
“Lu…”
She looked down. Swallowed.
“Lu.” That voice. She could listen to her name in his voice all day. Every day. “Look at me.”
And so she did.