Chapter 27
Rowan
April - Las Vegas
I have Maggie promise that she’ll wait for me after we go our separate ways to shower, but I still expect her to have bolted when I come out.
Instead, she’s pacing back and forth in the hallway, biting her fingernails. “C’mere,” I say, pulling her into a hug. She tucks her nose against my neck and I wrap my arms around her shoulders, holding her tight.
“What are we going to do?” she asks quietly.
“Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think,” I try to say, but my hopeful demeanor drops when we hear multiple cameras clicking. I half turn, still holding Maggie to me, and that’s when I see them—three, if not more, reporters heading our way and talking over one another, asking us questions.
Maggie swears and pulls away from me, looking nervously around the hallway.
“You two get out of here, we’ll distract them,” Jacob says, walking up to us with Elena in tow.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“It’s the least I can do. I’m sorry I caused this, Maggie,” he says, running a hand through his black hair.
“No hard feelings,” she says, still looking skittish.
“Okay, let’s get out of here,” I say, following the exit signs out of the arena. I walk ahead, making sure no other media is lingering.
A staff member walks up to us and says, “There’s a car waiting for you to take you to the hotel.”
“Thank you,” I say, letting out a relieved breath. I reach for Maggie’s hand but she pulls it back, avoiding my gaze. The rejection stings and I can’t help but be frustrated with how everything is playing out. We were finally supposed to talk about our agreement.
The car ride is silent and every attempt I make at conversation is shut down. So I give up trying to get through to her for now. As we get to the hotel, I leave her alone to head to the room and make my way to the bar.
“Can I get a bottle of whiskey to take back to my room?” I ask the young bartender.
He frowns at me and says, “I don’t think I’m allowed to do that.”
“Fine, how about two glasses?” I sigh, looking up and catching sight of the news. The photo of my intimate hug with Maggie is on full display, the commentators no doubt speculating about our relationship. “Shit,” I say, my fingers curling around the edge of the bar.
The bartender looks between me and the TV, his eyes rounding in recognition. “You’re Rowan Amory?”
“Unfortunately,” I grumble, my mood plummeting.
“Here, this is the best I can do,” he says, taking pity on me and handing me two very generous glasses of whiskey.
“Thanks,” I say, making my way to the elevator. I’m thankful there’s no one else here with me as I ride up to Maggie’s floor.
Balancing the two glasses in one hand, I grab the room key out of my pocket with the other and swipe the door open.
The sound of the TV is the first thing I hear. Snippets of “secretly dating” and “David Taylor’s daughter turns heads once more”. Maggie is sitting against the headboard, her knees drawn up to her chest, her chin resting on her forearm that slung over her knees..
I sigh and hand her one of the glasses which she reluctantly takes. Then I find the remote and turn off the TV. Maggie winces after taking a sip of the whiskey and looks over at her laptop which is sitting by her feet.
Swallowing, I reach over and pull it towards me. It’s a news article with photos of us from the last decade and a speculated timeline of our relationship. I scoff and say, “Don’t people have anything better to do?”
“Of course not, we exist for their entertainment,” Maggie says, voice raw. She takes another sip of whiskey and puts her head back down between her knees. I take the dangling glass from her fingers and set both drinks on the nightstand.
“Mags, talk to me. What is this really about?”
Her cold blue eyes lock on mine and I reel back from the force of her stare.
“What is it really about?” she says, anger rolling off her in waves. “How about the fact that all I wanted was a straightforward agreement, and instead we’ve managed to break every single rule?”
I inhale a frustrated breath and pinch the bridge of my nose. “That’s not fair, and it’s not what this is about, anyway. You’re deflecting.”
“Oh, yeah? Enlighten me then,” she says, moving off the bed and pacing around.
I remain seated at the edge of the bed, crossing my arms. “Today has been a lot, and I don’t want to fight with you,” I say, grinding my teeth so I don’t say something else I might regret.
“And that’s the problem, isn’t it?” she says, throwing her arms out. “You want an honest relationship with me and yet we never fight. That’s not normal, Rowan.”
“Is that really what you want right now? To pick a fight with me?” I ask, standing up.
“Yes, I do,” she says, chest heaving.
“Fine. I think you’re making this into a bigger deal than it actually is.
I think you’re too scared to admit what you really want, so you hide behind the pretenses of the agreement and you think the media will make or break us, as if anyone has any right to weigh in on our lives.
Who cares what others think? You and me—we’re the only ones that matter,” I say, taking a step closer, trying to get her to understand.
Maggie steps out of my reach once again and I ball my fists in frustration.
“I care what others think, okay?” she says, voice breaking.
“Because I’ve seen it all happen before.
I’ve been in the spotlight my whole life and I saw how it destroyed my parents’ marriage.
Gossip and rumors of cheating, and everyone weighing in on our family and my parents’ relationship.
Everyone scrutinized me and the way I looked, the way I acted, who I was seen with.
I’ve been in these shoes before, and I fucking hate them! ” she yells.
I take a deep breath. I’ve known about her parents’ divorce since college and I’ve always guessed that their toxic relationship was the reason she never wanted one to begin with.
But does she really think that’s what would happen to us?
“You’re not your parents, Mags. This is different,” I say.
“We’re different.” I want her to believe me but I can see she doesn’t.
“This was a mistake,” she whispers, blinking back tears and staring at the ceiling.
“What was a mistake?” I ask, heart in my throat.
“This stupid agreement. I should have never asked you for it,” she says, eyes full of tears.
“You don’t mean that,” I say, shoulders slumping.
She’s quiet for too long and my heart sinks.
“I was going to end it. On our trip to the Bahamas. I was going to end the agreement,” she cries, biting her bottom lip to stop it from wobbling.
All I can do is stare at her, shocked. After everything we’ve been through, a whole decade of push and pull, of being in love with her.
She was going to end it.
Just like that.
“Why didn’t you?” I manage to say, my voice hoarse, like I’ve been punched in the throat repeatedly. Every fiber of my being is hurting and I don’t know what I can do to stop this train from going off the rails.
She shakes her head, wiping off the tears that have started to fall. “I couldn’t—you started telling me about doubles and how you wanted to play with me and I just—couldn’t.”
“And now? Have you changed your mind about doubles?” I ask, but it’s not the question I’m dying to know the answer to. Have you changed your mind about us? Because that’s what playing together means to me. It means going all in.
“As fun as it was, Rowan, it’s not for me,” she says, giving me a devastated look. I hate it. I hate all of this. She’s been trying to break up with me for months while I’ve been trying to propose. I’m such a fucking fool.
I nod, trying my best to not fall apart and cry in her arms. Because that’s not what she needs.
And I’m not what she wants. All this time, I’ve been chasing a fantasy.
The reality is, while she might love me, she doesn’t love me enough to fight for me.
I’d face whatever scrutiny by the media, fight any battle just to be by her side, but she doesn’t feel the same.
“I guess I know where you stand now,” I manage to say, walking over to the nightstand and finishing both whiskeys before I walk out of her hotel room.
“I need a drink,” I tell Jacob when I join him at the hotel restaurant an hour later.
He got us a table in the back, away from most prying eyes.
Not that I care much right now about others seeing me drunk, but I know it would disappoint Maggie.
And even though she broke my heart into a million pieces tonight, I still can’t bring myself to do or say anything to hurt her.
“I love her so much,” I say a minute later, drink in hand.
“Mate, we’re gonna fix this. I swear I’ll make it up to you,” Jacob says, tearing into the bread on our table and placing some in front of me.
I take a bite of it and chew, but I can’t even enjoy it. “I’m not sure there’s anything left to fix,” I say morosely. “She doesn’t want me.”
“Of course she does. She loves you too, she’s just scared,” he says, trying to convince me. But I’m beyond convincing now. All I want is to wallow.
“Look, just lay low for a few weeks, let the media catch a whiff of something else, and then revisit the conversation,” Jacob suggests.
“Yeah, maybe.” I nod.
“Want to come back to London with me until the French Open?”
“What about practice?” I ask, frowning.
“You can practice with me,” he says, shrugging.
“We’re literally competing against each other,” I deadpan.
“So? There’s no law against us practicing together.”
“What about Maggie?” I say, still thinking of her best interest.
“She’ll be fine, mate. I promise,” Jacob says, his blue eyes kind and truthful. I nod, agreeing to visit him for a few weeks.
Maybe some time away will help clear my head and figure out what the fuck I’m supposed to do next. Do I tell Maggie about the ring? Do I let her go for good?