Chapter 19
Maggie
March - Palm Beach
Why the hell did I agree to a doubles exhibition match? Especially knowing that I would have to spend more time with Rowan. Every time I think that I can finally bring up our agreement and put an end to it, I do something stupid like this that brings me even further into his orbit.
He even gave me an out, and instead, I brought him even closer and spent the day with him and Archie like we were a family. What’s wrong with me?
After seeing too many couples fail in their relationships, including my parents, I told myself I would never go down that path. Not to mention the added pressure of the media. The last thing I want is to lose Rowan.
I’m in a sour mood by the time I get to the country club, where we’re supposed to meet with our new doubles coach.
It might be a little over the top to hire a coach and put this much work into an exhibition game, but if Rowan truly wants to give doubles a shot, we might as well give it everything we’ve got.
Then he can find a permanent partner to play in championships with.
The thought of Rowan playing and practicing with someone else brings up my jealousy, but I push it down and plaster a smile on my face once I reach the court.
Rowan is already there, volleying back and forth with Anthony, our new coach.
I stretch and get my racquet out, joining them on the court.
Anthony’s curly hair is dark and wild, with a few white strands visible in the sunlight.
I shake hands with him and Rowan gives me a side hug, throwing an arm around my shoulder.
“Ready to do this?” he asks and I nod and smile even though I’m terrified on the inside. What if he actually prefers playing doubles? When our agreement ends, I’ll lose parts of him. I can't lose him as a tennis partner too.
“Let’s start with some groundstrokes. We’ll ease into it,” Anthony says and moves near his baseline. Rowan and I do the same and we begin the drill.
The ball goes to Rowan and he lets it bounce on the court once before using his forehand stroke to send it back.
The next time Anthony volleys it, it comes to me.
Since I’m on the left side, I need to use my backhand.
We go back and forth like this a few times until Anthony increases the pace.
He sends a ball down the middle and both Rowan and I go for it at the same time.
Me with my forehand, Rowan with his backhand, our racquets meeting in the middle.
“Shit, sorry,” he says, shaking out his hand from the impact.
“That’s my bad,” I mumble, even though it was both our faults.
“Okay, lesson number one. You need to communicate. Call the ball if you’re going after it.”
We both nod like two chastised little kids, and try again. This time, Rowan does call the ball, but only after I’ve already swung my racquet. His flies out of his hand and I grimace. “Sorry.”
“Jesus, are you trying to kill me?” he says, flexing his hand. “It’s just warm up, you don’t have to hit so hard.”
His comment annoys me and I snap back, “Well, I’m sorry that I can’t control my swing. Are you in this to practice or in it to win?”
He blows out a frustrated breath as he bends down to pick up his racquet and pins me with a hard stare.
I straighten my spine and puff out my chest. Rowan’s gaze drops to the tops of my breasts that poke out of my yellow tennis dress, and his nostrils flare.
I shift in my spot, rubbing my thighs together.
Is he just as turned on as I am by our bickering?
We rarely fight when it comes to practice, mostly because we’re on opposite sides of the court. But being on the same side and not having the flexibility to do or move how we want is adding some tension between us.
“Let’s move on to some volley-ing and overhead practice,” Anthony says, assessing us with his wise brown eyes. “You’ll get the hang of it, I’m sure.”
Four hours later, we do not get the hang of it. Rowan narrowly misses my head with his racquet more than once, and we both forget to call the ball almost every time. We’re both too much in our heads about it, trying to play the game solo, when we need to communicate.
“Well, that was…a good start,” Anthony says, scratching at his short beard.
“Really?” Rowan asks, incredulous.
“No, that was terrible.” He sighs and I wince, looking over at Rowan. He deflates a little and lets his head drop.
“But you can help us, right?” I ask.
Anthony nods but it doesn’t look very convincing. “I’ll be honest, you two are clearly amazing players individually, but your communication needs some work and that’s not something I can magically fix. You need to do things together, some bonding activities.”
“Bonding activities?” I ask, frowning. “Like what?”
“Couples yoga, trust exercises, something along those lines. Learn to rely on each other. If you do that, I guarantee you it will help your game in doubles.”
Rowan nods and looks at me with a mixture of hopefulness and puppy dog eyes. Fuck, I can’t say no to him.
“Okay, we’ll try some things. But you’ll be here to coach us through the whole process,” I add and Anthony nods.
“Of course.”
“Right,” I say, placing my hands on my hips and nodding at Rowan. “Let’s find some bonding activities.”
Three hours later, after scouring the internet far longer than intended, I cave in and pick up my phone. I push the video call button in my ‘Athlala Girl Bosses’ group chat and wait.
And wait some more.
One, two, three more rings until someone picks up.
“Blair, I need help,” I say frantically, running a hand through my long, wavy hair.
“Is this boy related?” Blair asks, grinning at me.
“Not exactly—” I say and the call disconnects. Did I just lose signal? I tap the screen and realize that my so-called friend just hung up on me.
She pops back in a moment later. “Kidding, what do you need babe?”
Isla jumps in at the same time as I say, “I need advice. And yes, it’s related to Rowan but not in the way that you think.”
“The answer is yes, you should totally get together,” Isla replies, chewing a piece of gum.
I roll my eyes at them both until they stop snickering. “I agreed to be Rowan’s doubles partner for an exhibition match in a couple weeks,” I say, chewing on my fingernail.
“That’s wonderful!” Isla exclaims. “Spencer did mention that Rowan was interested in doubles, I didn’t realize you were gonna be his partner,” she says.
“I’m not his permanent partner, this is just for one televised match.
It’s for charity,” I explain. Rowan and Spencer have known each other for years as they met at a campaign photoshoot for their sponsoring brand.
In fact, Rowan and I introduced Spencer and Isla and the two of them became a figure skating duo.
“So what’s the issue?” Blair asks, teasing me. “Afraid you’ll fall in love with him if you share the same side of the tennis court?”
“You two are incorrigible. I think the problem is…” I say, gritting my teeth. “My control issues,” I mumble, too low to hear.
“What was that?” Blair brings the phone closer to her face.
“Come again?” Isla asks.
“I said, it’s my control issues. We can’t seem to get a good flow going when we play and I think it might be entirely my fault.” I slump on the couch, sighing. “Our coach said we need to do some bonding activities, but I don’t know what would even help.”
“I see. For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re the problem, but it’s true that sometimes you need things to go exactly your way,” Blair says gently. “Maybe try an activity where Rowan has to make the decisions and you can try taking a back seat, so to speak.”
“I agree, you don’t have to do anything too outside your comfort zone. How about couple’s yoga? Spencer and I do something similar too. It’s really important to trust your partner in a team sport,” Isla says.
“It’s not that I don’t trust him, of course I do. It’s just hard to let go, I guess,” I say.
“Is playing doubles something you even want to do?” Blair asks. “You’ve never mentioned it before.”
“I’ve never really thought about it, honestly.”
“That might be part of it too. If you’re not fully in it, of course it’s going to be a challenge,” Isla adds.
“You’re right. I’ll ponder it some more and find some bonding activities. Thanks, gals. You’re the best.”
“Best of luck, hit me up if you want more bonding ideas,” Isla says, dropping off the call.
“Love you to the Moon, babe,” Blair says, giving me a smile.
“Love you to Saturn,” I respond, feeling lighter now that I’ve talked it through. Now I just need to find a yoga studio.