Chapter 33
SPONSORS STACKED LIKE PANCAKES
I RUSH to the hospital as soon as I finish packing. Dad, Tim, and I fly to Madrid tomorrow, but today is for Henry. There are a few things I need to do for him before we leave. Drew had better call me with good news regarding the assignment slash challenge I gave him last night.
Henry’s surgery was over almost two hours ago, and I want to be there when he is transferred to his room.
I still can’t believe he agreed to get his shoulder fixed. Still can’t believe he’s finally giving himself some grace and is finally done punishing himself for things that were never his fault.
I’ve been pacing the waiting room for thirty minutes, growing more impatient by the second, when the nurse I’ve been harassing since I arrived finally approaches me.
“You can go in now, Miss Freeman,” she says, pressing a plastic clipboard against her chest. “Right this way.”
I sling my bag over my shoulder and follow her down the crisp, white hall.
“How did the surgery go?” I ask, my voice frantic as I try to keep up with the nurse’s pace.
“As it always does with Dr. Rivera’s surgeries,” she says in a playful but genuinely proud tone. “As expected.”
I let out a charged breath of relief through my mouth.
“Mr. Mitchell asked for you the moment he woke up in the PACU,” she says, glancing at me over her shoulder. “Expect him to be a bit groggy for the next few hours. He’s still coming off the anesthesia. But the mild sedative and pain meds should make him feel comfortable while he recovers.”
We reach Henry’s room, and the nurse gently opens the door.
“Let us know if he needs anything or if the pain becomes intolerable,” she says, holding the door open for me to step in. “Either way, we’ll check up on him later, and the doctor should come in to see him in the afternoon.”
I thank her and shut the door with a soft click.
Henry’s eyes flutter open as I make my way to him.
“Hey,” I whisper, leaning in close. I brush a curl off his forehead and kiss his cheek. “How are you feeling?”
His shoulder is in an immobilizing sling, and an IV in his left hand pumps fluids, and probably a cocktail of heavy meds, into his vein.
“Holaaa,” he says with shuttered lids, his voice hoarse but adorable as hell.
He coughs and clears his throat.
“Do you want some water?” I catch his face in my hand, needing to feel him.
Those eyes. That jaw. Those lips.
He’s so goddamn handsome. And mine.
He shakes his head with a twitchy smile.
“Just you,” he says, his voice slurring. “I loved you since you had braces and hated your serve.”
I stay perfectly still, staring at his face.
“You’re delirious,” I laugh. It’s soft, breathy, and a little broken around the edges. But something in me shifts. He said it like it’s always been true. Like he’s been waiting for the right moment to say it out loud. “God … I think I’ve loved you forever.”
“Tell Joe I’m the one.” He blinks slowly and lets out a faint chuckle.
Definitely delirious.
He closes his eyes and drifts back to sleep before I can tell him I already did.
A nurse pops into the room, waking me up. I’m not usually a nap person, but I couldn’t help but doze off while Henry rested. She walks in, checks on Henry’s fluids, and walks out again after excusing herself.
Henry’s awake.
And I was asleep, wasting precious time.
“How long have you been up?” I ask, mortified.
“Only for ten minutes.” His voice is still rough but steadier now. The anesthesia fog seems to be lifting. “Didn’t want to wake you. You looked so cute with your mouth hanging open.”
“Oh, shut up.”
He chuckles and tips his head to invite me closer.
I perch beside him and nestle my hand under his so I don’t mess with the IV.
“How are you feeling?” I ask. “The nurse said the surgery went as expected.”
“Good,” he says, taking a deep breath and letting it out with a sigh. “Tired. Groggy. My shoulder feels a bit tight. But I’m good.”
“Does it hurt?”
He closes his eyes and shakes his head slowly.
“Not yet. I’m used to the pain, though.”
It breaks my heart to think how long he’s been withstanding the discomfort, thinking he deserved it.
“I’m going to miss you in Europe,” I say. “Who’s gonna carry my racket bag around the stadiums? Tim doesn’t seem the type to do so.”
He laughs.
“You broke your carrying mule. Hope it was worth it.”
It’s my turn to laugh.
“He’ll miss the job, though,” he whispers. “Mostly the boss.”
“I’ll bring you back a trophy for your birthday,” I say. “I promise.”
Roland Garros ends on June 5th—Henry’s birthday. If I fight my way back to the finals again, the women’s match will be held on June 4th.
Here’s to hoping I get that far.
No matter what, I’ll try to be home for his birthday.
“All I need is for you to come back to me.”
“Always will.”
“Kiss me,” he breathes.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You could never.”
I brace myself on the bed, careful with how my weight shifts so I don’t hurt him or make him uncomfortable. Slowly, I lean in and press my lips to his.
He groans, quiet and low, then gently tugs at my lower lip with his teeth before pulling back with a frown.
“What is this sorcery,” he says, his eyes darting at my glossy lips.
I laugh under my breath.
“It’s vanilla mint,” I say. “It’s new.”
“I can tell.” He nods once, twice, like he’s confirming it to himself. “More.”
He leans in and takes my mouth again in a soft but consuming kiss, his lips brushing mine like he’s savoring the flavor and me with every slow stroke.
His tongue moves warm and lazy against mine, patient but searching.
I gently cradle his face, careful not to jostle the IV or his shoulder, and deepen the kiss.
He sighs into it like he’s finally found something worth staying awake for, and I am ready to dissolve into him.
Into this bed. Into the way he tastes like trust and vanilla and everything I’ve ever wanted.
A quick knock startles us, but I don’t move in time, too scared I’ll hurt him.
A nurse steps in, followed by—
“Dora!” I blurt, springing off the bed like I’ve been caught doing something illegal.
I knew she was flying in from Chicago today. Dad’s the one who called Dora and offered her our apartment in Manhattan while we’re away so Henry wouldn’t be alone during his recovery.
“Mom?”
Henry licks his lips trying to get the gloss off.
No luck.
I want to laugh and crawl into a hole at the same time.
She rushes in and pulls me into a hug.
“Oh, Belén!” She sways me from side to side, rubbing my back in a delicate, nurturing way. “Look at you! You’re all grown up!”
She holds me at arm’s length.
“Thank you,” she says, her blue eyes, the same shade as Henry’s, locked on mine. “For doing this for my boy.”
“Of course,” I say, nodding. “We love Henry. It was a no-brainer.”
I press my lips together and step aside so she can get to her son.
She kisses his forehead and pulls up a chair to sit beside him.
“I’ll be staying in New York for a few weeks for your recovery,” Dora says. She looks tired. Not just early flight tired. Life tired. The kind that settles in your shoulders when you’ve held too much for too long.
Her brown hair is swept back in a low bun, a few strands escaping at her temples. Her makeup is minimal, but those soft, sea-glass blue eyes Henry inherited look older than I remember.
She’s lived through so much. Mitch’s death. The lies leading up to it. The years of quiet damage. The drinking, the partying, the women.
Holding it together for Henry when no one else would.
I don’t know how she did it. But I know why she did. She looks at him now like he’s her whole reason.
“You didn’t have to drop everything to come here,” Henry says, already worried.
Knowing him, I can tell he doesn’t want to be a burden. He never does. I don’t get why it’s so hard for him to let people show up for him, especially when he’s spent his whole life doing just that for everyone else.
“I know how busy you are, and I don’t want to be—”
“I’ll be working remotely,” she says, her tone final. “They’ll survive without me in Chicago. And anyway, I told you your uncle’s expanding. He wants to open a gym in New Jersey, so I’ll be relocating in a few months.”
“That’s such great news!” I say.
Henry had mentioned the possibility of her moving back, but this is perfect. Something tells me it’ll give him peace of mind to have Dora close. To know he doesn’t have to worry about her all the time anymore.
They talk for a while, and every time I offer to step out to give them space, they wave me off. At one point, Dora gets emotional about Henry finally going through with the surgery. She reaches for my hand and squeezes.
“I don’t know how to thank you and your dad for everything you’ve done,” she says, brushing away tears with the back of her hand. “For both of us.”
“You’ve always been family,” I say. “We love you both so much.”
Dora blows her nose and gives herself a few seconds to compose. She shifts in her seat and arches a brow.
“So, how long have you two been dating?” Dora asks, too casually to be casual. I can tell she’s trying to lift the mood and fish for details at the same time.
“Mom …”
“Oh, no need to pretend around me,” she says, crossing her leg on top of the other and waving a carefree hand in front of her.
“I’ve seen the way you two look at each other.
It’s the same as it’s always been. Took you longer than expected, if you ask me.
” She pauses for a beat. “I also saw you leaping off the bed when I arrived.”
Henry snorts. Dora beams at me, and I look away with a nervous laugh, feeling my face getting hot.
“We might’ve gotten there sooner if this one”—I nod toward Henry—“hadn’t disappeared without saying goodbye.”
Dora throws a hand to her forehead in mock horror and shakes her head.
“If it makes you feel any better, he never stopped talking about you. Even when we were away and couldn’t explain why.”