CHAPTER 19 #2
And then, she gets organized. “Why are you pretending you don’t have a phone?” she demands. “The people who love you want to hear from you. I had no idea where you were. It’s the first time I won a trophy without even playing a final match.”
I feel warmer to be lumped into Fernanda’s loved ones. “I should have reached out. I’m sorry,” I apologize again. “I didn’t want to field calls from the press about my coaching change.” I think about the pictures of me and Aurelio online holding hands. “Or about Aurelio and me.”
“Definitely go with ‘no comment,’” Fernanda agrees. “But me and Aurelio and the girls, you can’t disappear on us. You promised.”
My gaze wanders to the waves, calmly lapping on the shore.
A young family has hit the beach, letting the spray tickle their legs.
“I don’t know. I think it would be better for Aurelio if I just disappeared.
He doesn’t need all my drama in his life.
” Fernanda snorts, and I sit up straight.
“Seriously, Fernanda. It’s better if we end it now.
He can find someone else, someone lighter. ”
“I’m sure he could,” she agrees. I grit my teeth at her patronizing tone. “But he’s in love with you.”
I throw up my free hand. “But why? Why would he be in love with someone like me?”
I can hear Fernanda’s smile. “Maybe you should ask him.”
“How do you know he’s in love with me?” I ask petulantly. “We never said it. We only went out for a few months.”
He can’t love me, I want to tell her. He can’t love someone who doesn’t really exist, and Amy the person was only real some of the time.
Something new enters Fernanda’s voice. A light suspicion. “I thought you said you watched his Wimbledon match.”
My brow furrows. “I did. What does that have to do with anything?”
“What about the post-match interview?” she questions. “Did you watch it?”
“No. I went to bed.”
Fernanda makes a choking noise. “Okay, okay, that explains a lot. I’m going to send you a link to the video. Watch it. Then call me back, and we’ll make a plan.”
She hangs up. It takes a moment, but then a text pings on Vince’s phone. I open the link she sent. It’s a 10-minute video of Aurelio’s post-match interview. I turn the volume up so I can hear the questions.
Aurelio looks beautiful, beaming after his win. Sweat gleams on his face, his curls soaked through. I miss him so much it hurts. But what hurts worse is the guilt of Cincinnati. The shadows of that room, the smack of fist on flesh, me tearing free of my father’s grasp.
I wince and refocus on the video. What exactly does Fernanda want me to see?
It begins like any post-match interview. Aurelio thanks his coaches, his team, his family, and his opponent. He dedicates the victory to his mother’s memory. He’s eloquent and humble, prompting a lot of cheering from the audience. A small smile spreads across my face.
The interviewer, our friend Brian, asks another question. “Aurelio, this has been the undisputed best year of your career. You’re almost twenty-five. Why do you think it’s all coming together now? What changed?”
Aurelio thinks about it for a minute, pausing before he answers. Finally, hesitantly, he says, “I think it was love.”
There are a few scattered laughs from the audience, a general consensus that he must be joking. My fingers grip the phone harder. Brian acts as though he’s heard Aurelio wrong. “Love?”
Aurelio smiles at their collective disbelief.
“I know it sounds like a...” he stumbles over the English words, “...greeting card, but I think it’s true.
Most of the time, tennis players focus on what they want, what they deserve.
I want to win a Grand Slam. I deserve to be number one in the world.
After losing my mother, I took a break from tennis.
I knew that those types of thoughts were poisoning me. ”
The crowd has gone silent, listening raptly. Even Brian leans in, following along intently.
“But what I realized is that I love tennis. I love playing against the best in the world, challenging myself, growing every day. I love my father, my brother, my niece, my nona who put the tennis racket back in my hand and told me I had given up too quickly.” My eyes fill with tears as I watch Aurelio confess all the goodness he has within him.
“I love my coaches, who originally thought I was crazy when I made them hit all the tourist destinations on the tour, but now they beg me for a bigger souvenir budget and more hours off.” A ripple of laughter goes through the audience, and Aurelio’s coach Antonio grins.
“I love meeting fans and playing in front of crowds. I love seeing the stars in so many different cities. I love...” Aurelio trails off, his eyes distant.
“I love that tennis has given me things outside of trophies. This isn’t the biggest win I’ve had this year.
That one happened months ago in Australia, and it changed my life. It led me here tonight.”
A light murmur from the crowd, a trickle of speculation. The Australian Open? But Aurelio lost there in the quarterfinals.
My heart hammers in my chest. Aurelio had asked me if I watched this speech, too, I remember now. I told him the truth, that I fell asleep. I missed the secret message, the confession, the love.
Brian tries to clarify Aurelio’s message. “So, all that, uh, love helped you win today?”
Aurelio laughs, not at all self-conscious in the face of their skepticism. “It didn’t help me win,” he explains. “It helped me play.”
A lightbulb goes off for Brian. He smiles. “No pressure when you just want to play, isn’t that right, Aurelio?”
Aurelio grins in response. He claps the interviewer on the shoulder. “No pressure at all, Brian. I felt like I was flying.”
The crowd goes crazy for him, standing and cheering. Aurelio waves at them, and I close the video with trembling fingers.
This isn’t the biggest win I’ve had this year. That one happened months ago in Australia, and it changed my life. It led me here tonight.
My fingers touch the side of my ribs, right over the 2026 tattoo.
I’ve hated it since I got it. It represents the pressure I feel to win a Grand Slam this year, to change my life now.
But isn’t life always changing? Maybe Aurelio was right.
We won that night in Australia, accidentally running into each other in the garden.
We won when they played a cheesy Vivaldi song on the speakers.
We won in all the moments after. Maybe my 2026 doesn’t have to be defined by the Bowman losing streak.
Maybe I have other options.
I call Fernanda back. The words are out of my mouth before I can really think about them. “I’m going to Rome.”
Fernanda cheers. “Thank God! Francisco and I want to play you two at the All-Star Event.”
“The what?” I ask, confused.
“Didn’t Vince tell you?”
“Tell me what?” I demand.
“The other part of the plan,” she says mischievously. “I’ll see you soon, Ames. Both of you.”
She hangs up.
*
Vince comes back as I wheel one of the suitcases I barely unpacked yesterday into the living room. “Going somewhere?” he asks, fighting a smile.
“Maybe.” I cross my arms. “Did you sign me and Aurelio up for some All-Star Event?”
“It’s new,” Vince explains. “They’re doing a mini mixed doubles tournament with all the biggest singles players the first two days of the U.S.
Open. Francisco and Fernanda signed up. Charles is playing with another Frenchwoman.
Anika and Joaquin are together, I think. ” He shrugs. “It should be fun.”
I give him a look. “I’m not playing, Vince. I’m not ready. And I don’t even know if Aurelio will forgive me.”
Now, Vince gives me a look.
I fight the urge to stamp my foot like a child. “I’m serious! How can I play in such a big tournament without a coach?”
Vince smiles, rubbing his beard. “I think I have an idea on that front.”
When he tells me the name, I blink in disbelief.
“I think it could work, Amy,” Vince reassures me. “We’ll meet you at the Open next week. Just bring Aurelio. I’ve got you.”
I’m so overwhelmed with gratitude that I engulf him in a hug. “Thank you, Vince,” I mumble into his shoulder. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
It takes him a moment, but then he gently pats me on the back. “You’re welcome, Amy.” I step out of his arms, embarrassed at my abrupt show of emotion. Vince’s expression is kind. “I can’t wait to see you play.”
Play, not win. My confidence grows at the sentiment. I don’t know if I can win. I don’t know if I’ll ever win a Grand Slam or even another match. But I know I can play.
I love playing. Isn’t that why I’m a tennis player? Doesn’t Amy the person love playing tennis and that’s what created Amy the tennis player? How can one exist without the other?
I let out a determined breath and pick up my suitcase. “Can I ask you for one more favor?” I look over at Vince. He nods. “How about a ride to the airport?”
Vince breaks into a smile. “I think Rome is waiting for you, Amy.”
I leave one home behind and head for another.