28. Kate
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Kate
Monday
I must’ve cried twice already. Maybe three times. I’d lost count somewhere around Swindon.
The train to Cardiff was quiet, and I let the steady noise of the tracks lull me into a half-dream. Ten days. That’s all I’d be home for before flying out, meeting him in Washington when the US tour kicked off in August.
I stared down at my wrist, turning the silver bracelet over in my fingers again and again. A Tiffany bracelet. A bloody Tiffany bracelet he’d handed me in bed this morning.
It was small and delicate, a simple tennis bracelet that glinted when it caught the light. It was beautiful, understated, and classic. It was me, and he knew it.
I’d told him it was too much. Too expensive. He just shook his head, kissed my bare shoulder and murmured, “It’s not enough, Katie. Not even close. Not for how I feel.”
That’s when I’d cried again. Properly cried. The kind of tears you don’t even try to stop because something inside you just breaks.
I touched the little clasp again now, half-smiling through the ache in my chest. As if I was ever going to forget this week.
God, it was only a week since Jordan had come into my life.
Last Sunday, I’d just arrived in Gwen’s kitchen, swearing off men and talking myself into some grand, independent, empowered woman solo summer.
I’d come to Wimbledon to get a bit of air.
Some space. I wasn’t here for a holiday romance, least of all with someone whose face was about to be plastered on bloody billboards everywhere.
But there he was, Jordan. The Aussie golden boy with the rakish grin and the kindest eyes I’d ever seen. He didn’t even try to bowl me over. He just…saw me, and I let myself fall for him.
Now, I was on a train back to Cardiff with a Tiffany bracelet on my wrist and a heart feeling every wall I’d built just give way, letting the flood of emotions take over.
We’d said goodbye that morning in his flat.
I could barely look around the place knowing I was leaving.
Not knowing when or if I’d be back. The trophy was still sitting in its velvet box, victory bouquets on the kitchen table, crumpled press passes in a bowl by the door.
It was so surreal. He should have been out in the world, celebrating.
Soaking it in. But instead, he held my face in both hands and said, “It’s just ten days, Katie.
” I just nodded. Because if I’d tried to speak, I’d have cried again.
We didn’t dare step out together. The papers were already swarming.
The kiss in the stands had made the front page, the big idiot.
A Wimbledon champion running into the crowd for a mystery blonde?
Of course it had. It was mortifying. Mum had rung that morning in a flap about reputation and everybody could see and what would the neighbours think? I had ended the call quickly.
I’d promised Gwen I’d swing by before heading home, mostly out of guilt. I’d vanished into his world for the week and barely checked in. She didn’t say anything, but I could see the relief in her face when I turned up at her door, mascara running down my face as she pulled me into a hug.
She clocked the bracelet straight away, of course. “Jesus, Katie.” She gaped, grabbing my hand like it was evidence in a murder case. “That’s not costume jewellery, is it?”
“I told him it was too much,” I said, shaking my head, still in disbelief.
“You didn’t give it back, though,” she quipped.
“No. I cried instead.”
She softened then as she pulled me into the kitchen. She made me tea and listened as I tried to make sense of what had just happened to my life.
“It’s a lot,” I admitted quietly. “I didn’t plan any of this. I didn’t expect…”
“To fall in love?” she asked, blunt yet warm.
I just stared into my tea. “Is that what this is?” I sighed.
Gwen shrugged. “Sounds like it. Looks like it. But even if it’s not, so what? You’re allowed to feel things, love,” Gwen said gently, offering a tin of biscuits. “Especially when you’ve just fallen arse-over-tits for someone, and then had to say goodbye before your feet even touched the ground.”
I let her talk sense into me for an hour. It helped. She always did.
But now, as the taxi pulled up outside my house in Canton and I stepped onto the pavement, that creeping feeling returned low in my stomach, like guilt or homesickness. Maybe both.
I unlocked the door, pushed it open, and let the silence roll in around me.
Everything was just as I’d left it. Spotless, orderly, perfectly mine. The citrus scent of my Jo Malone candle I’d bought to cheer myself up before I left. The pile of post that was on the doormat. Shoes lined up by the radiator. The kind of home people complimented for being so “together.”
Only now it felt…emptier. And a little lonelier.
I walked through the house slowly, fingers trailing the hallway wall, like I was seeing it all for the first time through new eyes.
This was the life I’d built. The house I’d worked so hard for. The independence I’d clawed back after everything went to shit. I should’ve been proud. I was proud. But it didn’t feel quite the same now. It felt like something was missing. Like I’d left something behind. Or someone.
I texted Jordan at 7:00 p.m. to tell him I’d made it home safely. I knew he had media and events to attend, so I didn’t expect to hear from him.
I must have fallen asleep on the sofa. Because at 10:00 p.m., my phone buzzed and startled me.
Jordan:
My bed feels empty without you :(
And the tears came again.