Chapter 52
Inés
August—MUNA
A soft breeze rippled through Arthur Ashe Stadium, the inky night sky above, the stars washed out by the surrounding city
lights. The court below lay silent, a tranquil pause before the men’s final tomorrow.
“This might be the most peaceful I’ve ever seen this place,” Chloe said beside me. After hours of media circus, we’d snuck
back into the stadium. The peace and quiet feeling like a gift, the first moment I’d had that was only us.
I exhaled, the tension in my shoulders giving way. Leaning into her, I rested my head on her shoulder, letting my tiredness
settle. “You’re probably right.”
Her hand lifted to my cheek, the touch gentle. “How are you feeling?”
“Is it bad if I say I’m actually okay?” I winced, but the words rang true.
The loss had stung for all of five seconds. Then something shifted, like everything I’d told myself over the last few days
had sunk in.
Yes, I’d lost. But I’d finished second in a tournament I hadn’t even expected to make a dent in. After months of struggle,
I’d broken through. How could I be upset about that?
Instead, I was excited for my friend, who’d deserved the win. I was grateful to have put up a good fight. I was in love with the girl in the stands, making her proud.
“I’m happy for her,” I said softly, as much to myself as to Chloe. “She deserved the win. And I’m . . . proud of myself for
getting here.”
Her laugh was light, teasing. “It’s not bad. I just don’t know if I believe you.”
I shrugged, thinking back to the runner-up speech I’d delivered, the one I hadn’t rehearsed. “I meant what I said earlier.
I never expected to get this far. I got lucky.”
“It’s not just luck,” Chloe said firmly, her tone breaking through my self-deprecation.
I smirked, straightening enough to meet her gaze. “Ja! So you admit it.”
“I admit nothing,” she shot back, but her smile softened the words. “Except that you’re a fantastic player who got here on
your own merit.”
I turned back to the court, the protective covers lying undisturbed on the surface. It was a reminder that tomorrow, life
would move on.
“All I’m saying is . . .” I trailed off, trying to get my words right. “I hate the idea that luck could get me this far. Or
you.”
“Of course, and I don’t mean to diminish anything. But sometimes, it feels a little magic, you know? The right weather, the
right wind, the right draw—”
“You mean the same draw that had us going head-to-head?” I interrupted.
“It sounds like we both didn’t have much luck before we found each other.”
“Need I remind you that I won that match,” I said with a laugh.
“Yes, but in order to do so, I had to play you,” she pointed out. “That doesn’t sound like any luck was in my favor.”
All the things that had brought us together. That night at the party, every match we’d played against each other. That day
when she walked into the beach house. Like fate had to force us to stay in one place long enough to realize what we could
learn from each other.
No matter how unwilling we had been.
We’d come so far together.
“I wasn’t supposed to make it this far, you know?” I said, easily remembering every headline that had called time on my career.
“Everyone kept saying I was done after the accident and surgery. Sometimes I believed them. But quitting felt so much worse.
Like if I couldn’t be on a tennis court, what else would I have?”
“You’d have so much,” Chloe said, linking her fingers with mine. “Friends, family, an entire new life to build.”
Her words sank in, each one wrapping around the fragile parts of me that still doubted. I squeezed her hand tightly, her words
going straight to my heart. “And even if it was all you had, you’ve turned it into something incredible. Do you know how many
people wish they had your fight? After everything, you did make it. You proved them all wrong.”
I smiled at her, still unsure how I’d gotten so lucky to be hers.
“So then . . . what comes next?” I asked.
“Well, first of all, I don’t plan on ever losing to you again.”
I laughed at her. “If we could not have to play each other in tournaments, that would be great, thanks.”
“Seems unlikely,” she said, and smiled. “Life has a way of pushing us together.”
“Love or tennis?”
“Maybe both.” Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. We were together now, no matter the time it had taken. “So, are you keeping
it?” Chloe nodded down at my wrist. “The bracelet?”
“I think it’s growing on me. Besides, I’d hate to give it back and lose my good luck,” I teased.
“Excuse me, it’s my bracelet.”
“I was thinking.” I leaned in closer. “There’s plenty more beads in the kit you had, right?”
“The one in the guesthouse?”
I nodded. “How would you feel about a few weeks at the beach? Just you and me?”
Her smile lit up her entire face. “I’d like that.”
The weight of those three simple words settled over me, and for the first time, I felt it too, the quiet hope of something
more, something still waiting beyond the horizon.
I moved, untangling our hands, and instead stretched my arm out, my hand pulling on her opposite shoulder. We sat back, looking
out at the court as if it were our entire world, her body resting against me, her head tucked underneath mine.
“With all this newfound success, I’m in need of a hitting partner for the next set of tournaments,” I said, barely able to
contain a sly smile.
“Oh, are you?”
“Yep,” I replied. “Any suggestions?”
“I know a few people. I could make some calls.”
“I do already have this one girl in mind.” The smile broke fully across my lips. “You might know her. Strawberry-blonde hair,
legs for days, killer serve?”
“Only her serve is good?” she asked, sounding offended.
Even with her frustrated, scrunched-up nose and that forced expression on her face, she was undeniably beautiful. Her every
feature seemed to hold its own kind of gravity, pulling me in whether I wanted it or not.
“Now that I think about it,” I said, forcing myself to swallow the emotion rising in my throat, “everything about her is pretty
perfect.”
Chloe’s smirk softened into something warmer. “You know what? Now that’s ringing a few bells.” Her eyes sparkled as she added,
“I’m sure she’d be available for a few sessions. She has excellent references.”
I couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of me, loud and free, cutting through the stillness.
“I love you,” I said, those three words coming so easily.
Nothing could take us from each other, both so strong in our own different ways. But even down there, on the court, we were
each other’s biggest supporters, even while playing each other.
Once, I’d taken every slight from her personally, a dagger straight to my heart. Now I felt proud when she challenged my skill, more so when she found a way to fight back, and I knew she felt the same way about me.
That we’d hold each other in our losses and celebrate each other in our wins. We had room for both, love for each other.
“I love you too,” she said, leaning back against me, her body relaxing against mine.
For years, the court had been my home. The only place I belonged, itched to return to if I spent too many days away. Now it
was her. But instead of days, it was minutes and seconds before I needed all the tiny little ways that she made me feel whole
again.
I felt like I’d been searching, and just when I was giving up, she showed up and kicked my ass. Broke me apart, only to be
the one to take the pieces and put me back together.
Rearranged, but stronger.
Improved, but still me.
As the sky brightened we left the stands, heading towards everything the future held for us. Celebrations for the winners,
drinks for the losers. And whatever was beyond that, I knew, it would be her hand in mine.
Us versus the world.