Chapter 74
Seventy-Four
Cassie’s fingers curled around her bottle, feeling the cold glass press against her palm. Delilah was riding a high that she deserved to feel. Cassie was proud of her.
She studied Delilah as she sipped her soda: the dark, twinkly eyes and that sassy mouth she’d probably get to kiss later, which was a sexy miracle.
She wanted to focus on that—on everything that had seemed impossible but happened anyway.
But her mind kept skipping ahead, to when training ended, to the moment Delilah might simply walk away and leave her with nothing but memories.
Delilah’s voice abruptly cut through her anxieties. ‘I’ve been watching her—Tamsin Rowe—every match available, every interview. But… you grew up with it, didn’t you? What’s that like? To grow up playing tennis, watching her?’
‘What would that tell you about playing her?’
Delilah shrugged. ‘Most likely? Nothing.’
‘Then why ask it?’ Cassie pressed.
‘I guess I just want to know,’ Delilah said.
‘About her?’
‘No,’ Cassie said. ‘You.’
Cassie blinked at her, caught off guard by the intensity behind that simple answer.
She didn’t know if she should admit something here, something she’d never said to Delilah. But she’d been asked. She wasn’t going to lie. ‘I idolised her.’
Delilah’s eyes widened slightly, a mix of awe and surprise. ‘You did. You never said.’
‘I didn’t think it mattered,’ Cassie said, glancing down at the table.
Delilah laughed. ‘Wow.’
‘It wasn’t important in what we were trying to do.’
‘You don’t think?’
‘I wanted to make you into a confident tennis player. You really think knowing how much I looked up to Tamsin would have helped?’
Delilah considered. ‘I take your point. But you’re telling me now.’
‘You asked.’
Delilah smiled. ‘So, anything I ask, you’d just tell me?’
Cassie thought that over. She wasn’t a robot. She could tell a white lie if needed. But she wouldn’t lie to Delilah. She simply wouldn’t want to. ‘I think so.’
‘OK. Do you think I can play her? Tamsin?’
Cassie nodded, happy to get such a softball. ‘Yep. I think you can.’
Delilah looked oddly taken aback. ‘You do?’
‘I’m not in your world. I don’t know acting. But I could see it, and that’s all I can say. I…’ Cassie stopped short.
‘What?’ Delilah asked, absolutely hungry for that dropped sentence.
Cassie wasn’t sure. It felt like too much.
‘You said you’d answer any question.’
Cassie knew she was trapped now. She had to say it. ‘Fine. I… I believe in you.’
Delilah blinked, and for a moment, Cassie thought she might have said too much. The words hung between them, heavier than either of them expected. Delilah’s lips quirked, not quite a smile. Her eyes lingered on Cassie in that way that made it impossible to look away.
‘I like having you on my side.’
Cassie swallowed. ‘I’ve always been on your side,’ she said.
Delilah’s lips curved further, and she shifted slightly closer. ‘What about when I pranged your car?’
That was less of a softball. Though it would have been so easy to simply apologise for that, to say, You caught me in a bad moment. But Cassie didn’t do that.
‘Yeah, I was in a very fucking bad mood at that moment. And I took that out on you.’
Delilah nodded, still smiling. ‘OK. Well, try not to do that again, if you don’t mind?’
Cassie let out a self-conscious laugh. ‘I’ll… try.’
Delilah’s eyes held hers. ‘Good. Because that’s a really hard glare you’ve got. I was a bit terrified.’
Cassie felt heat rise to her cheeks and looked down at her bottle, twisting it between her hands. ‘I could probably do worse,’ she said quietly, almost to herself.
Delilah’s eyebrow lifted, but her expression stayed calm, measured. ‘Worse?’
‘Yeah,’ Cassie said, voice low, careful. ‘I mean… I’m sort of an arsehole. I do know that about myself.’
Delilah watched her, head tilted. ‘You don’t scare me anymore, Cassie.’
Cassie shrugged, trying to sound casual, but her heart was hammering. ‘No?’
Delilah’s gaze softened. ‘Nope,’ she said, making the P pop.
Cassie didn’t know whether to feel relieved or more exposed. ‘Good to know,’ she murmured, almost inaudible.
They talked then, easier than before. Not just tennis, but anything that drifted to the surface.
It was mostly Delilah who let things spill.
She spoke about the films that had stayed with her, the music she loved, the worst jobs she’d stumbled through.
Cassie offered less, choosing her words carefully, but still enough to keep the conversation alive.
But underneath it all, fear lingered. She wasn’t sure she was enough for this. Enough for Delilah. Retired tennis pro with a dodgy elbow. Could she keep up with someone like Delilah? Someone vibrant, so bloody alive?
The thought of it ending—of returning to an empty apartment and routine life, without this—made her heart hurt.
‘I think there’s some beer at my place,’ Delilah blurted out nervously.
Cassie blinked. ‘Are you just listing things in your flat or is that an invitation?’
Delilah laughed. ‘What do you think?’