Chapter 16 #2
She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face against his shoulder.
She wanted so badly to tell him how she felt.
How she’d never even been close to loving a man in her whole life and how it seemed she had saved it all for him.
She gulped down a lump in her throat and lifted up to face him. “Callum…”
“Don’t,” he said quickly bringing her back to him. “Please, just let me hold you.”
“Okay, but I was just…”
“Tomorrow,” he whispered and the fire reflected in his glazed eyes. “Tomorrow, sweetheart. Then I’ll let you go.”
The ocean waves crashed on the beach beyond, and the flames crackled in the fire beside them. With falling tears she rested her head on his chest, savoring the moment and wondering if she ever would experience one like this again.
The sweltering heat had returned to South Florida, and Brielle couldn’t be more pleased. Muggy and stagnant, it was the perfect weather to overwhelm her opponents. Not that she needed Mother Nature’s help, but the advantage was always nice.
For once, Callum didn’t seem to mind the heat either.
On their way to the court he had filled the space with idle chatter about crowd psychology, and how the press would be less aggressive if they were fighting dehydration.
He was sure the news of Vitalie had been withheld, but just in case, he had instructed her to avoid the press as much as she could.
The USTF security plowed through the photographers like a tornado and Brielle was nestled in the eye.
She had stressed all morning about what to wear, but the shower of catcalls confirmed the pale yellow dress was the right decision.
Tossing her braid over her shoulder, she posed for a few photos, letting the sun hit her like a spotlight.
All eyes were on her, including Callum’s, who watched with a scowl a few feet away.
She turned a corner down the underground corridor, then stopped at the center court entrance. A burst of hot air brought with it a wave of nausea, the same one she fought off a few moments earlier. Butterflies had never been an issue for her. Her nerves were usually iron-clad.
“Brielle, ten minutes until you take the court.”
“Thanks, Steve.” She took her racquet bag from his shoulder and peered out at the crowd. It was a full house. Twenty thousand at least.
“I hope you don’t mind but I put the word out for Geoffrey to come down here.” Steve leaned in as if sharing a secret. ”I thought you could use the support since Vitalie’s not here.”
She shook her head. “I’m glad you did. I need to talk with him anyway.”
“What about, darling?”
Brielle turned when she heard his voice, then fought the urge to shrug off his grip from her shoulder.
“Is everything okay? I was in the box when they paged me.” Dressed in tennis whites, he wore sunglasses and the same ridiculous straw hat he’d been sporting since he returned home from Bermuda.
Brielle cringed, taking a seat on a bench beside her. “I’m great, I just wanted to see you before I went out.”
“Oh well, that surprises me,” Geoffrey stammered. “I know how you like to be by yourself before a match.”
“Well, this is an extenuating circumstance.” Tossing her braid over the shoulder, she spied Callum lingering with the other security men a few feet away. She could tell by the way he held his head that he was straining to listen. “I wanted to talk about last night.”
Geoffrey pushed up his sunglasses. “What about last night? The press hasn’t gotten to you already, have they?”
“I wanted to apologize.” Again, she glanced at Callum. He had inched closer, rubbing the lenses of his Oakley’s with the hem of his shirt. “I was pretty out of it last night, and I was upset. If I brushed you off…”
“I understand, darling.”
The sudden roar of the crowd outside echoed in the corridor. Steve leaned in the entryway and waved his hand. “Brielle they’re announcing you and Nila. She’ll be entering on the other side of the court first. Then they’ll bring you out.”
She nodded, her eyes still fixed on Geoffrey’s. “So our trip is still on?”
“Of course,” he said, the relief unmistakable in his voice. “We’ll leave tonight after the reception.” He stood and kissed her hand before heading out to the stands. “Good luck, my darling. I’ll be rooting for you!”
A warm breeze wafted through the corridor, doing little to relieve the oppressive heat. Quickly she pulled an extra water from the icebox beside her.
“Are you ready to go?” Callum nodded toward the building roar of the crowd. “You don’t want to keep the world waiting, do you?”
Again, her stomach jumped, forcing her to swallow hard. She leaned back on the cool cement wall and took a deep breath.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, why?” she snapped. “Don’t I look okay?”
“You look great. You just seem like the heat might be getting to you.”
“I’m just tired. Almost being murdered tends to take it out of you.”
“I don’t doubt it. Can I do anything for you?”
She looked around the corridor at the familiar but nameless faces. People were everywhere, but somehow she felt alone. “No,” she sighed. “It’s just strange not having Anston here. We had a routine before matches. Talk strategy.”
“Like a crew chief.”
She wrinkled her forehead. “That’s a car thing, right?”
“Yeah,” he chuckled. “That’s a car thing.” He looked around before smoothing a hair behind her ear. “Everything okay with Geoffrey?”
“All patched up.” she replied.
He nodded. “I’m going to miss you like crazy. You know that, right?”
“Me, too.” Her stomach was swimming again. Unwilling to give in to it, she blew out a determined breath and tossed her bag over her shoulder.
The sudden roar of the crowd pulled her to the entrance. She headed down the tunnel and out into the sun, the blue sky looming like heaven above her. The people cheered as if heralding a hero. This was the moment she’d dreamed about for months. This was her home. The Queen had reclaimed her crown.
It was all she could do to keep from crying.