Chapter 25
FRATERNIZING WITH THE FUCKING ENEMY
“GEMMA,” I whisper, breathless. “Let’s go. Now.”
I don’t care if I’m technically allowed to leave or not. There’s no way I’m staying here and watching Liam parade around with that gorgeous girl on his arm.
“Oh, fuck me,” Gemma says, gaping in their direction. “That’s William Sjoberg.” She’s too starstruck to register Liam at first, or the fact that we need to leave.
“That’s Billie Murphy, right? Liam’s friend. The one you talked to on the ph— Oh shit.”
Might be the mentioning of his name, but that seems to get Gemma’s attention as she finally zeroes in on Liam. And the gorgeous girl beside him.
“I can’t do this right now,” I whisper, practically begging. “Please. We have to go.”
“Of course, B,” Gemma says, though her eyes are still on them. “I … Let’s go.”
I approach Drew while she collects herself, but before I can say a word, he beats me to it.
“You’re free to go, kid,” he says, jerking his chin toward Liam’s entourage.
He pulls me in for a hug and whispers, “Liam’s cool and all, but I’ve always been Team Henry.”
I pull back and hold him at arm’s length, narrowing my eyes.
What the hell does that mean?
Is my affection for him that obvious?
“Ready to leave?” Dad asks, appearing beside us and catching me off guard.
“Ah, yes,” I reply, dropping my hands from Drew’s shoulders and shaking my head slightly, trying to gather myself, wondering what, and how much, he picked up on. “I was just letting Drew know we were heading out.”
“Vlad’s driving you back, yes?” he asks, pulling me in for a hug.
Gemma nods.
“I’ll stay a bit longer, but I’ll see you in the morning. Get some rest. And no slumber parties tonight. Right, Gemma?”
“Of course, Joe,” Gemma says with a dramatic shiver, finally snapping out of her daze. “Straight to bed.”
She chuckles and winks at me. I laugh, but we both know we won’t go straight to bed.
We’ll want to hang out, even if it’s just for a while. My brain won’t let me sleep otherwise.
Imagine if Dad knew that Henry wanted to stop by my room later. And I don’t need anyone telling me it’s a bad idea because if it goes well, I will not want him to leave, and if it doesn’t, it’ll wreck my entire night.
Either outcome promises little to no rest.
I should text him and ask to postpone until after tomorrow’s match. That would be the smart move. But I’m never smart when it comes to him. And I’m way too curious to hear what he’ll say.
Still holding Gemma’s hand, we head toward the exit. A gaze drills into my temple, and when I turn, I freeze at the sight of Liam.
He lifts a hand and waves, his eyes narrowing with the kind of smile that’s actually real.
I wave back with a dumb smile on my face, feeling half-paralyzed, half-sad, and a full hundred percent clueless about what to do next.
He leans in to whisper something to the girl beside him and starts walking my way.
Fuck.
My grip tightens around Gemma’s hand as my heart flutters in my chest. It’s been so long since I last saw or talked to him.
My body reacts to the familiarity of his presence, but I know better than to fall for it.
Just chemicals, I remind myself. That’s all it is.
My body hasn’t caught up to the fact that my heart moved on.
“Hi,” he says, stopping a safe distance away. But not far enough to keep his cologne from hitting me in the face. Close enough that I can see how his thick lashes frame those light honey eyes.
“Hey, Gemma.” Liam glances at our hands and laughs, maybe at the way I’m crushing her fingers.
I let go.
“Hey,” I reply with a tight smile, readjusting my purse strap on my shoulder.
“I just wanted to say happy birthday.”
Liam gives me a quick once-over, like he’s taking in the version of me that’s standing here now. His expression softens as he glances away.
“So, when’s your next match?”
“Thank you. It’s tomorrow. Eleven a.m.”
Our conversation is clipped. To the point. I’m glad to see him, but I don’t know if this is what I need right now. It’s best to keep it short. Besides, someone is clearly waiting for him to go back.
My stupid curiosity gets the best of me, so I glance at the gorgeous brunette, and surprisingly, she’s not looking this way. She’s laughing, fully wrapped up in the moment with Liam’s friends. Her friends, from the looks of it. She seems so confident. Happy.
“New girl?” Gemma asks with a smirk.
I am going to kill her in her sleep.
Liam clicks his tongue and smiles at her, shaking his head. He knows Gemma. Knows how she is. I doubt he’s surprised by her candor.
“Her name’s Nina,” he says. “She’s one of Billie’s best friends.”
So Billie set them up, huh.
“She seems nice,” I blurt out. “You look … happy.”
“We are.” His lips press into a smile. Evidently, he’s not enjoying this part of the conversation, but there’s no way around the awkwardness.
I can’t lie and say it doesn’t hurt to see him with someone else, but I know I couldn’t give him what he needed.
What he deserved. My mind was always elsewhere, and when Henry came back, it only got worse.
But the fact that he’s standing here, congratulating me on my birthday, showing me grace, only reminds me of how much I don’t deserve him. Of how much I suck.
I know I hurt him.
“Liam,” I say, barely above a whisper but looking straight into his eyes. “I’m so sorry. About everything.”
“Hey, it’s okay,” he says. “We’re good. It’s all good.” He gives me a small smile. “Good luck tomorrow.”
“Thanks,” I say, swallowing the growing lump in my throat.
“Take care of that racket of yours. Still can’t believe they took you back after you tried to murder it on live TV.” He chuckles, stepping back. “Turns out smashing stuff does sell. Who knew?”
“Oh, shut up,” I say with a laugh.
He pretends to zip his mouth shut.
“I’ll see you girls around.” With a final nod, he turns and walks off.
Gemma’s holding me against her chest in the back seat of the black sedan as we drive to the hotel. I can’t stop crying. I came undone the moment I stepped into the car, and I don’t know why.
She’s asked what’s wrong a few times, but it only makes the sobs come harder. Vlad, as usual, pretends he’s alone in the car, though I’ve caught him glancing at the rearview mirror with narrowed eyes. His way of showing concern, I guess.
“Is it Liam?” she asks once I’ve calmed down. “Do you miss him?”
“No … I mean, yes, I miss him.” I let out a broken sigh, sitting up straighter. “But not in a getting-back-together kind of way. Seeing him reminded me how I could’ve done better. How I could’ve been better. But instead, I fucked it all up.”
I exhale hard, cheeks puffing out. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’m just so sad. Angry. And I—I can’t even … fuck.”
My stomach knots, heat curling low and tight. Tears slide down my face again. And suddenly, I realize I do know what’s happening. I know exactly why. So I say it.
“Mom didn’t call.”
Gemma closes her eyes for a second and sighs.
“That sucks,” she mutters. “I’m so sorry. It could be the time difference or something.”
I’d love to believe that, but Mom would have to know what time of day it is for that to count as an excuse. It’s harsh. It’s unfair. But I can’t help it. Not when the irritation threatens to consume me.
“I wish I didn’t care, you know?” I say, ugly crying all over again. “She cancels the trip at the last minute and can’t even call?”
“No, B, don’t say that,” she says, gently wiping my tears with a tissue. “She’s your mom. Of course you care.” Gemma sounds borderline angry. She takes a deep breath like she’s trying to reel herself in. “There must be an explanation.”
I bite my lower lip and shake my head, more tears spilling, because I know there isn’t an explanation. Not one that makes it okay.
“She just doesn’t care.”
I look away and stare blankly out the window.
“Belén, look at me.”
Gemma pulls my hand, trying to get me to face her. But I can’t.
“She does care. She loves you.”
“She loves gin and tonic,” I say with a teary snort. “She loves her stupid country club friends. She loves her life without me in it.”
“Belén.”
“Gemma, it’s okay,” I say, meeting her gaze. “Really. You don’t have to make me feel better. I needed to let it out, or I’ll choke at the stadium tomorrow. Or thrash my racket against the court.”
I laugh and cry at the same time because I’d never let myself get into that situation again, and Gemma knows it. I’ve learned my lesson the hard way.
Not only do I have to keep it together for the Rolex deal, but I have to win the next US Open. It’s the only way to shut all of this out. To silence it.
That’s it. I’m done wallowing in my own resentment.
I’ve made a scene with my racket, cursed chair umpires, snapped at reporters, set a terrible example for kids, and been rude to people because Mommy doesn’t love me.
I’m pathetic. I need to harden up.
But as the realization hits me square in the face, the rage softens, melting into something sadder. Something heavier.
“Those things don’t break anyway, right?” Gemma says, her chuckle thick with compassion. “Besides, we need all the Neel Ultex prepaid debit cards we can get to keep financing our shopping sprees. So let it all out, okay?”
She presses her lips into a warm smile and squeezes my hand with both of hers as the car pulls into the hotel’s motor lobby.
Thankfully, there are no paparazzi on site. They’ve all probably fled to the cocktail party to catch a shot of the William Sjoberg.
Thanks, William.
We get out of the car after I wipe away the snot and tears as best I can with the tissues Vlad so kindly handed me earlier. The lobby is quiet. There’s some movement, but thankfully, no one I know.
“Your gift!” Gemma says, clicking the elevator button. “Want to come up for a bit so I can try to cheer you up with it?”
“Gemma! You didn’t have to get me anything. You flying all the way here is already gift enough, and—”
“Shush,” she cuts me off and pulls me into the elevator. I draw her in for a tight hug.