Chapter 10
Ten
Cassie had come very close to letting Delilah go. Inches from it. Millimetres.
She’d seen enough dramatic exits to know when one might actually stick.
And the moment Delilah stalked off, she knew this wasn’t a tantrum.
It was a breaking point. She need never have talked to Delilah again, and she couldn’t be blamed for it by the club manager or whatever board member had pressed her into this.
But she’d caught something in that look as Delilah fled. Shame.
She grabbed her jacket and jogged after her, heart pounding. This was a terrible idea. She wasn’t Delilah’s friend or her therapist.
Cassie spotted her in the car park, hunched over in the front seat of her car, crying into a phone.
It pulled at something in her. And she got in the car.
Delilah was thrown, putting it lightly. ‘Do you really want a lift?’ she asked.
Cassie, of course, did not need a lift. Her own car was right next to Delilah’s. ‘Look, we probably should have had this talk before, but how long has it been since you picked up a racket?’
‘Before today?’
‘Yes.’
‘Never.’
‘Oh.’
‘Yes.’
‘And they hired you to play tennis legend Tamsin Rowe?’ Cassie was compelled to ask.
‘They don’t know about my lack of tennis skills. My agent bullshitted them. And now I have to make her lie true or I lose the gig,’ she said, honestly.
‘I see.’ Cassie sighed. ‘Look, I know this sucks.’
‘I suck, you mean.’
Cassie considered pretending otherwise. She really did. But what was the point? Cassie had no gift for fake encouragement. Delilah would spot a bad performance pretty quickly, given her skill set.
‘Yes,’ she said plainly. ‘You’re the worst I’ve ever seen. I’ve genuinely seen better toddlers.’
Delilah’s head lifted. Her eyes were wet, her eyeliner smudged, but there was a flicker of disbelief behind the tears. ‘Wow,’ she said, a laugh falling out of her.
Cassie let the corner of her mouth curl, just slightly. Kept her tone dry. ‘Yeah, wow. But you know what? Toddlers learn. They fall over, cry, and then get back up.’
Delilah blinked at her, still sniffly, but listening.
‘You really think I can learn?’ she asked.
Cassie shrugged. ‘I think if you don’t keep going, the end of the story is that you suck at this. If you do keep going, you might get to tell yourself something else.’
‘What?’
‘That you can learn. That you can improve. Or at least, that you’re not a quitter.’
They sat in silence. Just the faint hum of traffic and a dog barking somewhere distant.
Delilah wiped her cheeks, her voice small but steady. ‘This is so embarrassing.’
‘I’m sure.’
‘I hate that feeling.’
‘Mmm hmm.’
‘Any way you can make it go away?’
‘Nope.’ Cassie shook her head. ‘You’re a beginner and you’re bad. The good news is that you literally couldn’t get worse. You can only get better.’
It was possibly the least inspiring pep talk in history, but Cassie meant it. If they could both just name the thing—that Delilah sucked—then maybe it wouldn’t sting so badly.
‘Am I the worst you’ve ever seen?’ Delilah asked, starting to smile.
Cassie nodded. ‘Yes. Which is odd.’
‘Odd?’
‘I watched you walk onto the court and I thought, “Right. She’s got good posture and knows where her limbs are.” And then you picked up that racket and—’ she made a soft popping noise with her lips—‘something happened. So I reckon it’s more psychological than physical. Which I can work with.’
Delilah looked at her for a long moment. Her expression cleared slightly. ‘OK,’ she said, wiping moisture from under her eyes. And she climbed out of the car.
Cassie watched, mildly stunned, as she sashayed back toward the courts with the kind of commitment that suggested she hadn’t just been sobbing into her steering wheel two minutes ago.
Cassie, belatedly, got out of the car and jogged after her. She couldn’t really understand how she’d gotten Delilah back on her feet. But she wasn’t about to question it.