Chapter 21
Twenty-One
Sydney was back at a Grand Slam tennis tournament, one of the four most well-respected tournaments in the world of tennis, and the only one that took place on US soil.
A year ago, she’d have killed to be here.
She did almost kill to be here—her own body, of course, with her unrelenting exercise regimen and single-minded focus on pushing her career as far as it could go.
Last year, she’d been here competing and had made it down to the final four women who vied for the honor of winning.
What a difference a year made.
Her attendance here wasn’t at all in the way she’d planned for, but that didn’t change the fact, as she walked through a more private path that wove throughout the large outdoor venue, that it felt so familiar.
The smells and sounds and the still-scorching early September heat.
That buzz of excitement, as close to a million people would attend one of the hundreds of matches; the event taking almost two full weeks to complete.
There were parts that were strange, though. Walking around without her tennis bag, for one. She missed the security it provided as she’d snug it tighter over her shoulder, her body perfectly attuned to walking with the extra weight on one side .
She’d been gone from Stoneport for a week, missing the moments when August rolled into September.
They were heading into the last weekend of the tournament, and Sydney had almost fulfilled her obligation with the network. A formal offer was likely coming any day now.
She’d been called into extra meetings with The Tennis Network’s producers, who had a private section in the venue to run what was a fairly large broadcasting operation at an event of this scale.
She was walking back from one such meeting now, where they’d all but said that she needed to name her terms to come on board full-time.
And that felt good , in the simplest terms. To be so wanted, especially in a world to which she’d given so much.
But there was also a feeling, one that she hadn’t been able to shake since arriving, that she was an outsider looking in on a life that didn’t quite make sense to her anymore.
Her conversation with Brian a few weeks ago hadn’t helped, bolstered by the fact that she’d been spending most of her days at the Manhaven Tennis Center with him, hopping in on group lessons and working with Jenna and a few other teenage players who trained there full-time.
And instead of basking in the sights and sounds and the frenetic ‘anything could happen’ energy, which she’d already seen play out across some of the dozens of courts during the tournament, all she could think about was how Reese was coming to town tomorrow morning, joining her for the last full weekend.
She’d moved through the venue and into a waiting car on autopilot, the network’s hotel only a few minutes’ drive away. When she was a player, she’d stayed in the city, but here, they wanted the commentators close to the action, especially with the unpredictability of game lengths.
Her tennis life and her personal life with Reese hadn’t overlapped before, except as Sydney struggled to make herself go through her ritual of begrudgingly packing, Reese usually taking her to the airport and picking her up when she got home, regardless of the hour.
Sydney entered the hotel, already thinking about how good it was going to feel to lay eyes on Reese, to hold her in her arms.
One more night.
“Ms. King?” The concierge waved her over.
Sydney was used to notes from fans or network-wide messages being left at the desk for her, but she was surprised when the concierge, a young woman with vibrant hair and an ear with studs running the length of it, pointed around the corner to the lounge area. “You have a guest waiting for you.”
Sydney’s pulse picked up, and she wondered—dared to hope, even—that Reese had decided to come in and surprise her a day early.
Her body, exhausted from a long day of commentary and signing autographs when spotted by fans, suddenly roared to life again, an excited energy flowing through her at the mere thought.
But as she rounded the corner, her mouth dropped open, and she tried to make sense of what she was seeing.
“Hey, Syd.” Grant stood up from the wingback chair he was seated in, and he tucked his hands meekly in his pockets as he shifted his weight from his heels to the balls of his feet.
Nothing about this was right. Nothing . A wave of uneasiness rolled through her as she took Grant in.
He had a look of contrition on his face, like a schoolboy who’d been caught doing something wrong. Even still, there was a small, hopeful smile on his face, his eyes bright and taking her in, too.
The questions started to knock around her brain.
How did he know she was here?
Why was he here?
How quickly could she get him to go away? Ideally without causing a scene?
She shook her confusion away and stood up a little straighter, wishing she had her tennis bag to tighten protectively across her shoulder.
It wasn’t that she was scared of Grant, that had never been the case, but giving him a good thwack with the bag had been something she’d considered more than a few times over the last year.
“You’re surprised to see me? A good surprise, I hope?” he asked, taking the smallest step forward but still affording her personal space.
“Why are you here?” He was getting married next weekend, which added an extra layer of insanity to him showing up here, now.
“Sit with me, please.” He gestured to the chair adjacent to the one he’d been sitting in. “Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”
Sydney briefly wondered if he’d found God. Or if he was in some sort of twelve-step program that encouraged him to apologize for the things he’d done wrong. Except, Grant was perfectly capable of making bad decisions completely sober, so that one probably didn’t track.
The sooner she got through this, the sooner she could send him on his way.
In over a year, they hadn’t had an honest conversation. They’d never had a huge blowout after she’d discovered him cheating. She’d gone radio silent, intent on extricating him from every facet of her life and pretending, as much as she could, that he didn’t exist.
While she’d never regret the insanity of the situation that had thrown her and Reese together, it hadn’t exactly been her most mature decision. Nevertheless, it was a position she’d ended up in because she hadn’t dealt with her grief and his betrayal.
So maybe this was a necessary step as she looked to move forward with Reese.
At least, that’s what she told herself as she sat down in the chair, eyeing Grant warily as he did the same, albeit with that same sincere, soft focus that made her uncomfortable given how it was being levied in her direction after so long.
“It’s really good to see you,” he said, running a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair. Even in the balmy heat, Grant looked like a model.
As Sydney looked closer, though, she noticed faint dark circles under his eyes, and she glanced at where his nails were bitten down, a tell-tale sign that he was stressed. There were very few things that ever got Grant Devereux stressed, and they mainly had to do with his father.
“You’ve always known my tells,” he said, stretching his fingers out if she wanted to get a clear look at them. She didn’t.
Her brow rose instinctively. “Not as many as I should have.”
Why was he here? Truly. She hadn’t seen him in six weeks, since he’d drunkenly spilled champagne all over her.
And except where Brynn was concerned, she hadn’t thought about him. With respect to the two of them and their past relationship, it had been even longer.
“I made a mistake, Sydney. I want to take full responsibility for that. I’ve never told you how sorry I am for everything that’s happened. For everything that I did.”
Shock coursed through her at the sincerity and humility on full display in his tone. It was like a Grant from the past, when he’d been sweet and doting and she’d felt like he was truly in her corner.
Sitting before her was the Grant who used to show up at her matches to surprise her, who always knew the right thing to say and do.
Sydney warred with the things he’d done and the person she’d thought she’d known battling to stay in focus in front of her, and she felt a little dizzy with the weight of the cognitive dissonance.
Finally, when she pulled her thoughts together, she gave him the only response she could. “I appreciate the apology.”
He was always going to be Reese’s brother. Which was the entire reason she was entertaining this conversation. They were never going to be friends, but she was building a future with Reese, and she didn’t need the tethers of her past waiting to pull her apart at any second .
“I want us to be us again.”
“That’s not going to happen, Grant.” Her rebuttal was swift and immediate as Reese’s face flashed through her mind. And even if Reese wasn’t a part of her life, she had enough self-respect to never let him back in.
“We were good together. And I’m not making excuses for anything I did, but it was a mistake. I’ll spend every day of the rest of my life making it up to you, if you’ll let me,” he pleaded.
“You cheated on me, Grant,” she said, a little wound that she’d thought had healed cracking open inside of her. “You broke my trust.”
He dropped his head, voice pained when he said, “I know. It was a terrible mistake. Brynn was a mistake.”
“The woman you’re planning on marrying next week? Seems like you’re really sending her mixed messages.” She tried to hide the disgust that wanted to work its way across her features at the idea that Grant was laying himself at Sydney’s feet, all while Brynn was planning their future together.
He ran his hands down his thighs and took a deep breath. “It’s complicated.”
“I think I can follow along.”