10. Madison
— ? —
Madison
Greer’s text came through while I was still in bed, staring at the ceiling of my rented cottage.
Greer: Tennis today. Mixed doubles. You and me against the boys. Or whatever pairing they’ve come up with. It’ll be fun.
Me: Who are the boys?
Greer: Graham and Ford.
I stared at my phone for a full thirty seconds.
Me: Absolutely not.
Greer: The club paired us. It’s a charity tournament. Backing out now makes you look petty and him look like a victim. Just come play tennis and beat his ass. It’ll be therapeutic.
She had a point. The last thing I needed was another story in The Crow’s Nest about how Madison Harrington couldn’t even show her face at the club anymore.
Me: Fine. But if I end up in jail for assault with a tennis racket, you’re posting my bail.
Greer: Deal. See you at two.
The Bellcliff tennis courts were pristine as always, the white lines freshly painted, the nets pulled taut.
I spotted Greer and Graham already warming up on Court Three, their movements easy and synchronized after years of playing together.
And there was Ford.
He stood at the baseline in tennis whites that fit him too well, his racket loose in his hand.
The moment he saw me, his whole posture changed, shoulders straightening, chin lifting, that familiar confidence radiating off him like he already knew how this was going to go.
I walked toward the court, and that’s when I saw what was waiting on the bench.
A bouquet of peonies, my favorite, wrapped in cream paper and tied with silk ribbon. Next to it, a small velvet box that I recognized immediately as jewelry.
And lined up beside that, three bottles of the high-end electrolyte water I liked, the kind Ford used to tease me about because it cost eight dollars a bottle.
I stopped walking and stared at the display.
Ford crossed the court toward me with that easy stride that used to make my heart skip.
“I know you always forget to hydrate properly during matches, and I saw that bracelet last month when we were walking past the jeweler on Thames Street. You stopped and looked at it for almost a full minute, so I went back the next day and bought it.”
I looked at him, at this man who still thought the right gift could fix what he’d broken.
“I don’t want your flowers,” I said, keeping my voice flat. “Or the stupid bracelet. And I definitely don’t want your eight-dollar water.”
“Mads, come on. I’m just trying to show you that I pay attention. That I notice things about you.”
“You noticed what I drink and what jewelry I looked at. Congratulations. That’s not the same as noticing me.” I walked past him and set my bag down on the far end of the bench, as far from his gifts as I could get. “Let’s just get this over with.”
“Can we at least talk while we play? There’s so much I need to say to you, and you won’t return my calls or answer my texts or let me anywhere near the cottage. This is the first time I’ve been in the same space as you in weeks.”
“And whose fault is that?”
“Mine. I know it’s mine.” He moved closer, lowering his voice. “But I’m trying here, Madison. I’m trying to show you that I can be different. That I can be the husband you deserve.”
“You can’t buy your way back into my life with peonies and tennis bracelets. That’s not how this works.”
“Then tell me how it works. Tell me what you need and I’ll do it.”
“I need you to leave me alone.”
“Anything but that.” He smiled, that crooked half-smile that used to disarm me completely. “I’m serious, Mads. Name it. A trip somewhere, just the two of us. A new house, if you don’t want to live at Harborlight anymore. I’ll quit the company if that’s what it takes. Just tell me what you want.”
I stared at him, genuinely amazed that after everything, he still thought this was about things. About trips and houses and grand gestures.
“I want you to stop talking to me,” I said. “We play, we win, we leave. That’s it.”
The match started, and I threw myself into the game with everything I had. But tennis doubles is a partnership, and our bodies remembered what our minds were trying to forget.
Ford moved left and I moved right without thinking. He set up shots I finished before I realized what I was doing. Ten years of playing together had carved these patterns into our muscles, and no amount of anger could erase that.
“Beautiful shot,” Ford murmured as we switched sides. “Your form’s gotten even better. You’ve been practicing.”
“I’ve had a lot of rage to work out.”
“I deserve that.” He fell into step beside me, close enough that I could smell his cologne. “I deserve everything you throw at me. But that doesn’t change the fact that watching you out here is making me remember why I fell in love with you in the first place.”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what? Don’t tell you that you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen? Don’t tell you that being on the same court as you is the best I’ve felt in months? Don’t tell you that I’d give anything to turn back the clock and do everything differently?”
“Don’t act like pretty words are going to fix this.”
He stepped in front of me, blocking my path to the baseline. “I’m serious, Madison. I’m standing here telling you that I’m ready to change, and you won’t even look at me.”
“Because I’ve heard this before.” I stepped around him, refusing to meet his eyes.
God why doesn’t he get it.
“I’ve heard you promise to be more present, to put your phone away, to make time for us. And then a week later, you’re back to working eighty-hour weeks and forgetting we have dinner plans. Words are cheap, Ford. Yours especially.”
“Then let me prove it with actions.”
“The flowers and the bracelet prove exactly what I already knew, which is that you think you can buy your way out of anything.” I picked up my racket. “Now serve the ball before Greer and Graham die of boredom.”
He served. I returned. We fell back into the rhythm of the game, and I tried to focus on the ball instead of the man beside me.
But Ford wouldn’t stop talking.
“Remember the first time I saw you play?” he asked during a changeover. “Right here, this same court, before they redid the surface. You were terrible. You kept hitting the ball over the fence.”
“I was terrible on purpose. Best way I knew to get a rich boy to keep showing up and retrieving my balls for me.”
“I was charmed by you.” He handed me a towel I hadn’t asked for. “You were so determined to get better. You made me come back every weekend until you could actually return a serve. And when you finally beat me for the first time, you did a victory dance that lasted about five minutes.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Not that long. I can still see it like it was yesterday.” His voice dropped. “I miss that version of us, Mads. The version that laughed together and played together and didn’t have all this weight between us. I miss you.”
“You miss a version of me that doesn’t exist anymore. You wore us out.”
I watched his confidence flicker for just a second. But he recovered quickly.
We won the first set 6-4. I didn’t celebrate.
Between sets, Ford kept finding excuses to get close to me. Handing me water I hadn’t asked for. Adjusting the strings on my racket without permission. Standing just inside my personal space during every break.
“The house is too quiet without you. I keep waking up in the middle of the night and reaching for you, and you’re not there.”
“Get a bigger pillow.”
“I don’t want a pillow. I want my wife.”
“I’m not your wife. Not anymore.”
“The papers aren’t signed. Legally, you’re still mine.”
“Legally.” I laughed without humor. “That’s what you’re holding onto? The legal technicality that I haven’t finalized the paperwork yet?”
“I’m holding onto anything I can get.” He caught my arm as I turned away, his grip gentle but firm. “I’ve given you every reason to walk away. But I’m asking you anyway, Madison. I’m begging you. Don’t give up on us yet.”
“Let go of my arm.”
He let go, but he didn’t step back. “I love you. I know I haven’t shown it the way I should have. I got lost in work and let everything else fall apart. But I love you, and I’m not ready to lose you.”
“You should have thought about that before.”
“I think about it constantly. It’s all I think about.” He was still standing too close, his eyes searching my face for something I wasn’t willing to give him. “Just tell me there’s still a chance. Tell me I haven’t completely destroyed everything between us.”
“Serve the ball, Ford. The match isn’t over.”
The second set was harder. Not the tennis, but Ford’s relentless presence beside me.
He kept up a constant stream of murmured comments, observations, memories, each one designed to remind me of what we used to have.
“You still do that thing with your tongue when you’re concentrating,” he said. “The little bit that sticks out when you’re lining up a shot. It’s adorable.”
“Focus on the game.”
“I am focused. On you. On how right it feels to be on the same side of the net as you.” He caught my eye and held it. “We were always a good team, Mads. We can be again.”
“Being a good tennis team isn’t the same as being a good marriage.”
“No. But it’s a start.”
I hit the next return so hard it nearly took Graham’s head off.
We won the second set too. When the final point landed, I let out a triumphant sound and turned to Ford with a grin before I could stop myself.
He was beaming at me, his whole face lit up with joy, and for one terrible second it felt exactly like it used to feel. Like we were partners. Like we were us.
Then I caught Greer watching me from across the net with a knowing expression, and the smile died on my face.
“Good game,” Ford said, reaching for my hand.
I stepped back. “I need to change.”
“Just stay for one drink. Please. We can talk about the match, decompress. It doesn’t have to be about anything heavy.”
“Everything with you is heavy. That’s the problem.” I grabbed my bag from the bench, deliberately leaving the flowers and the bracelet and the expensive water behind. “I’m not taking any of that. Give it to someone who wants it.”
Greer caught up with me in the locker room, her face carefully neutral. “That was intense,” she said.
“It was a setup. Don’t pretend it wasn’t.”
Greer went quiet for a moment, and that’s when I knew.
“The club didn’t pair us,” I said slowly. “Did they?”
“Ford asked Graham to arrange it. He wanted a chance to talk to you, and Graham pulled some strings with the tournament director.” She had the grace to look ashamed. “I knew about it beforehand.”
The anger that flooded through me was white-hot. “You knew? You knew he set this whole thing up and you let me walk into it?”
“I thought it might help. If you saw him trying, maybe you’d be willing to hear him out.”
“He’s not trying. He’s buying.” I threw my racket into my bag with more force than necessary. “You’re supposed to be my friend, Greer. You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am on your side.”
“Then stop helping my husband manipulate me.”
“He’s desperate, Madison. He knows he screwed up and he doesn’t know how to fix it.”
“That’s not my problem anymore. And it’s definitely not your problem to solve.” I grabbed my bag and headed for the door. “I thought I could trust you. I thought at least you understood what he put me through.”
“I do understand. I just also understand that sometimes people change. Sometimes they figure out what they lost and they fight to get it back.”
“And sometimes they just throw money at the problem and hope it goes away.” I stopped at the door and looked back at her. “The bracelet, the flowers, the water, the arranged tennis match. That’s not fighting. That’s shopping. And I’m not for sale.”
I walked out of the locker room and through the clubhouse, my blood still boiling.
Ford was leaning against my car in the parking lot.
“Get away from my car.”
“Just give me two minutes.”
“I’ve given you ten years. You don’t get any more minutes.” I unlocked the door and threw my bag into the passenger seat. “I know you set this up. And I know you thought your little care package on the bench would soften me up.”
“I was trying to show you that I know what you like.”
“You know what I drink and what flowers I like. You don’t know anything about what I actually need.” I yanked open the driver’s door. “And manipulating my friends to get access to me isn’t romantic, Ford. It’s pathetic.”
He stepped toward the car, his hands spread. “I’m out of ideas here, Madison. You won’t see me, you won’t talk to me, you won’t give me any indication of what it would take to earn another chance. How am I supposed to fight for us if you won’t even tell me the rules?”
“There are no rules. There’s no fight. There’s just me, finally walking away from a marriage that stopped working years ago.”
“It can work again. I know it can.” He put his hand on the car door, not closing it, just resting there. “We were good together today. On the court. Moving together, anticipating each other, winning together. That doesn’t just disappear, Mads. That kind of connection doesn’t just die.”
“It didn’t die. You neglected it until it withered.” I looked at his hand on my door, then up at his face. “Move.”
I got in the car and started the engine. “Goodbye, Ford.”
“This isn’t goodbye.” He stepped back from the car but didn’t look away. “I’m not giving up, Madison. I’m not going to stop trying. However long it takes, whatever I have to do, I’m going to prove to you that I can be the husband you deserve.”
“With more jewelry? More flowers? Maybe next time you could buy out the whole club and have them rename it after me.”
“If that’s what it takes.”
“It won’t take anything. Because there’s nothing left to take.” I put the car in reverse. “Stop scheming with my friends. Just sign the papers and let me go.”
I backed out of the space and drove away, watching him shrink in my rearview mirror until I turned the corner and he disappeared.
Three blocks from the club, I had to pull over because my hands were shaking too badly to hold the steering wheel.
Not because of the gifts or the scheming or the pretty words he’d said during the match. Because for one point, one single point in that second set, I had forgotten to be angry.
I had turned to him and smiled like nothing was wrong. And forgetting, even for a second, was the most dangerous thing I could do.