39
“Will Luna Aldridge Disappoint in the US Open Final Again?”
—Tennis Today
HOW WAS I supposed to stop staring at him now? He was the most ravishing man I had ever seen, and now he loved me. He loved me. Kieran loved me. Beautiful, handsome, ridiculously witty Kieran loved me.
The thought draped over me like a linen picnic blanket on a bed of grass.
I wanted to fall onto it and sip on the words as pink clouds passed overhead.
But at the same time, his hand on my thigh was the equivalent to an oil lamp switching on in a dark room despite the strong winds coming in through the window, trying to blow it out.
“Is there something on my face?” he asked, glancing at me before focusing on the stack of cards in front of us.
I shook my head, turning my own gaze forward after accidentally memorizing every freckle on his neck. There was a large pizza in the center of our carpet circle that we ordered the moment we got back from that fiasco of an event, along with two stacks of Uno cards.
“All right, Kieran, be honest. Are you scared of boats?” Cecilia asked, putting a red five down.
“What?” he questioned.
“Oh, finally, we can ask questions now.” Serena sighed, putting a green five down.
“When did you realize you loved her?” Amir piped in.
“I know the answer to that one!” Abuela wiggled her eyebrows.
“Why did you say all that stuff about Luna the night you guys met?” Willow narrowed her eyes.
“What stuff?” Nari and Kieran responded in unison. I threw my hand over my face.
“You said all these horrible things about her being a selfish control freak and tennis being a pretentious sport.” Cecilia retold the story, and I winced.
“You did what?” Abuela spoke up.
Kieran turned to me in horror. Midnight air from the open balcony nudged the collar of his shirt where his tie was undone. He looked like a prince in a period piece.
“The RBY party. You heard that?” he asked.
“So you did say it?” I backed up, careful to still keep my cards to my chest. I knew I wasn’t mistaken the night I heard him say those things, but the past few months, part of me had been clutching onto this idea that it was someone else.
“I did, but I didn’t mean any of it,” he said, his eyes full of sincerity.
“Then why did you say it!” Nari swatted his arm.
He shook his head, collecting words. “One of the producers working on funding the film I was in at the time was at the event. He noticed you and mentioned… approaching you, which is a more appropriate way to phrase it. He’s married and has kids and was prepared to make an effort to pursue you.
He’s a grotesque man known for sleeping around.
He treats women like personal challenges, and when he gets what he wants, well…
he makes sure that everyone knows. And if he doesn’t, he makes their life a living hell with the amount of control he has over media outlets and production companies.
I wanted to kill him. But I was under contract to not interfere with anyone working on the film, especially not large investors.
I lied and told him you were in a relationship, and when that didn’t work, I pivoted.
I started listing things off my ex used to say. ”
“Penelope?” Nari asked, surprised.
“I… I never thought you heard any of it. None of it was ever about you. It was only to make sure he never went near you.”
I was at a loss for words. He looked me in the eyes, and I just knew what he was saying was the truth.
“Holy shit.” Serena filled in the quiet.
“That’s why you started those rumors about me, isn’t it?” he realized.
“You called me self-absorbed via a handwritten note that everyone online saw!” I tried to defend myself.
“I tried to apologize about that,” he grimaced.
“When!”
“Three years ago! I sent you a letter!” He ran his hand through his hair.
“I never got a letter!”
“You responded ‘FU!’ In cursive!”
“Why would I casually be writing in cursive! Did one of you guys respond to a letter?” I turned, taking in the faces of Deidra, Amir, Serena, Cecilia, Mary, and Willow. They all shook their heads, equally shocked. Kieran’s villain origin story was being flipped on its head for all of us.
“Wait, Luna, didn’t you meet Jeremiah a few weeks after that?” Mary spoke up.
I knew what she was insinuating: Jeremiah had intervened.
“No, he wouldn’t have. Even if he did, how would he have had access to my mail?” I asked.
“He had dropped those flowers off at the rental flat after the Wimbledon win… No one was home when he left them. There might’ve been other mail left outside,” Cecilia thought aloud.
No, that couldn’t be possible. Going through my mail? He wouldn’t have done that. We had only just met.
But they were all looking at me as if they had solved the puzzle.
“I think it’s time to call it a night,” Kieran commented, putting his cards down and pressing a kiss to my temple. He picked up my purse, allowing me to carry my shock and anger up the elevator to my room.
My ex-husband had been cutting my ties to people since the day he met me.
I sat on the bathroom sink, pulling the rest of my dress up with me, trying to process everything and let it go. Left earring off. Right earring off. I dropped them both on the marble behind me. I leaned forward, catching the strap of my heel.
“Here, let me do it,” Kieran interjected from the bathroom door.
He took his jacket off, throwing it on the bed before taking his place in front of me.
It was like the night in the fountain all over again.
Down on one knee with his fingertips grazing my ankle.
He undid the straps, placing the heels beside each other on the floor.
Then he kicked off his own shoes, putting them beside mine like neighboring houses.
“How’s your hand?” He reached for my slightly swollen knuckles.
“It’s fine, just sore. Never punched anyone before.” I laughed.
“Didn’t look like it.” He smiled, impressed. Then his smile settled as he ran his thumb lightly over the back of my hand. “What were you referring to when you asked him if he had got the message?”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek. I hadn’t talked or thought about Jeremiah this much in one day since the day of his interview. “He’s been in denial about how our relationship ended.”
“Seeing as he was responding to your letters when you first met, it sounds like more than denial,” he commented, taking his watch off, his hips between my legs.
“He’s always had a very stubborn personality—doesn’t like to take no for an answer.
Voicemails, calls, mail, passing messages on to friends.
He made it known he didn’t like my original answer, from the divorce to ignoring him to the new relationship.
The first time I had seen him in person since our divorce was in London at your premiere.
He tried to convince me to take him back,” I admitted.
Kieran’s jaw ticked. “If I had known he was stalking you, I wouldn’t have let what was happening between us cloud my judgment. You could’ve told me.”
I rested my hand on top of his. I could see all of his unsaid words swimming around in his eyes. “I wasn’t ready to talk about it. But it’s handled now,” I responded with appreciation.
He flipped my hand over, inspecting all areas of my skin and bone. “Will your hand be too sore for…”
“For the US Open? Of course not. It’s going to take a lot more than a bruised hand to keep me from playing.”
“How are you feeling?”
“I mean, this is the best shape I’ve ever been in. I’ve been training without running myself into the ground, and my sleep is finally back to normal. Statistically, this should be the year I win.”
“That’s great, but I was wondering how you were doing up here.” He tapped my temple.
“Oh, well, I don’t know. Slightly stressed, I guess.
There’s always this underlying anxiety when it comes to a home Grand Slam.
It’s only built now that I’ve garnered this public losing streak with US Opens.
So I’ve been telling myself that this isn’t something I want.
That I don’t need to win.” I searched for the necklace’s clasp at the back of my neck, fumbling.
“Was that supposed to be believable?”
I huffed, letting my hands fall without the necklace.
“Why are you so scared to want it?” he asked, his hand snaking under my hair to the chain.
He leaned in, trying to see the clasp at the back of my neck.
I shuddered, having him this close. I was so used to telling myself that this thing between us wasn’t real.
Now it felt sinful to enjoy him being in my orbit.
He woke up every tired, sleeping cell in my body.
They all rose in his presence. Flowers standing from the soil for their sun.
I took a deep breath in and blew it out like I was smoking a cigar, gaining relief. “Because if I don’t get it, then I’d have to suffer the grief of losing it.”
“But what if you did get it?” I could see the flecks of gray in his blue eyes. He dropped the necklace beside my thigh.
I shook my head, giving him a look. You don’t understand.
“Do you remember the night we met?” he asked, off topic.
“New York. It was pouring and you jumped forward to grab my purse.” I refrained from telling him how pretty his eyes were under the droplets covering his eyelashes that night.
He looked down at his wrist, undoing his watch.
“You had this red dress on, matching heels, and a gold bracelet with charms that twinkled. You looked so gorgeous that I didn’t even realize I was staring at you until I was trying to find a way to describe the color of your lipstick.
But that actually wasn’t the first night I had seen you.
I had been looking at apartments in Greenwich Village a few weeks prior. ”
I began tugging my rings off. “That’s funny, that’s where I used to live. Do you have a place there?”
He shook his head. “I was trying to find an apartment for my family so they’d have a larger place to stay whenever they visited—that’s beside the point, though. You were in a paint store on Waverly Place holding this comically large roll of wallpaper.”
I listened, trying to pull the ring off my pinky, as he continued.
“I recognized you immediately; you were on the cover of The New York Times that morning. I could see you arguing with this old man at the counter. I almost walked across the street to find out what was wrong because he was flailing his arms, red in the face. But I paused on the sidewalk as you threw your hand up, gold bracelets flying down the length of your arm, getting him to stop talking. I still have no idea what you said to him, but it put him in his place.”
Frustratingly, I twisted the ring on my finger, unable to get it to budge. “What are you trying to say?” I asked.
He looked down at my hand, evidently unhappy that I wasn’t more invested in his story. I just didn’t have the energy for a pep speech. I wanted to wallow in the chaos.
Turning the sink on, he put my finger under the faucet. I pulled it away.
“That never works,” I complained.
He held my hand again and pressed each of my fingers into a fist until only my pinkie was left.
I watched as he carried my fist and placed my finger between his lips.
I froze. He ran his tongue over the band before retrieving the ring, dragging it off with his teeth, and returning my hand to my lap.
He parted his lips, exposing the ring the same way you’d show off a knotted cherry stem, placing it on the counter.
He sprawled his hands out on either side of my hips.
My heart stopped as he leaned in close. “What I was trying to say was that the day I first saw you in that shop was the day I knew I wanted to know you. Let me give you a lesson in Luna Aldridge: She doesn’t let anyone stand in her way or tell her how things are going to be. ”
His glance darted between my eyes, reaffirming that I was hearing him. “Have some faith in who you are, Luna Aldridge. I know I do.”