Chapter 20
"Are you ready, sweetheart?" Diane asks, standing beside Kate, who's about to walk into the press conference she called herself.
Three days have passed since her final breakup with Leire.
Since then they haven't spoken, have greeted each other in the hallways with a simple nod, and somehow, in some twisted, strange way, people have picked up on the tension between them and the rumors about their rivalry have started flying again.
Both of them made it through the round of sixteen.
Her back is giving her a reprieve, as if her body knows this is the last tournament and is giving her the chance to play at full capacity—which makes all of this even harder.
"No," she answers quietly.
"I know." Diane squeezes her arm, runs a hand along her back to steady her, and smiles with a mix of tenderness and admiration. "You're so strong, and you're doing really well."
Diane doesn't say it just to lift her spirits—she means it.
When she saw her come out of the Spanish woman's room, all she could do was take her hand and guide her out of the building, where a cab was waiting at the entrance, and once inside she was finally able to hold her when Kate folded against her, crying and hiccupping against her chest while she tried to comfort her and press a Band-Aid over that broken heart.
They got back to their hotel, Diane went up to Kate's room with her, and in the end she stayed the night, holding her through hours in which neither of them slept more than three.
The next day she'd had to play makeup artist to try to hide the dark circles under Kate's eyes and the color that had all but drained from her face, and since then Kate has become a shadow of herself, moving on autopilot and waiting to get through the tournament so she can go home—knowing she's lost the two things she loves most: Leire and tennis.
"You should do the press conference, Kate," she'd told her yesterday.
"You need to announce your retirement while you're still in the draw.
If they knock you out and you say it afterward, you're giving them every reason to speculate and say stupid things—like you lost your edge and the back is just an excuse. "
Since Kate made the decision, Diane has been pushing to announce it as soon as possible, but Kate wasn't ready.
She needed time to take it in before telling the world, and even though she still hasn't fully accepted it, time has run out.
So she agreed, and her agent arranged the press conference for this morning, before the day's matches begin.
"Everything's ready," an assistant announces in her direction, but Kate barely registers the words—her mind, completely scattered since her breakup with Leire, is somewhere else entirely.
Specifically, it's on the conversation she had last night with Rachel, after Rachel had been calling her ever since Diane told her what had happened.
Kate hadn't felt strong enough to talk about it until last night, when she finally picked up and started crying all over again the moment she heard Rachel's low, warm voice.
"I'm so sorry, Kate," Rachel had begun, and because Kate started hiccupping and couldn't calm down, Rachel launched into a monologue about everything she'd done during the day.
She went slowly, adding pauses and sighs when something had frustrated her, and little by little Kate started to settle, to actually listen to what she was saying, and even to laugh at a few moments.
"You'll get through this," she said when Kate was finally able to string words together into short sentences.
"I guess so," she answered. "Though I wasn't ready to lose both things at the same time. I thought she'd be there—that she'd support me, that she'd be my rock when I was left standing on one leg."
"I know. But sometimes things don't go the way we want them to and everything falls apart at once, at the worst possible moment. But if anyone can keep going and come out stronger on the other side, it's you, Kate Brogan."
She laughed—though the smile barely made it to her lips, just a faint tremor when she tried to stretch them—and ever since, she's been holding onto that, onto rising like a phoenix, because she can't afford to fall apart completely.
"Okay. Let's go," she says at last.
Diane nods and walks out with her, sitting beside her as Kate takes her place at the microphones.
The press room at the Open is more packed than usual—almost as full as it would be for a post-final press conference—and Kate's mouth goes dry before she can say a single word.
Diane has settled to her right, ready to be her anchor through one of the hardest moments of her career, the moment when it becomes real that this is ending for her.
Kate pulls the microphone closer and clears her throat.
"Good morning." Her voice comes out quieter than she expected, and that makes her more nervous. "Thank you for coming. I really appreciate you all being here this early."
She glances for a second at the paper she brought along in case she went blank, but right now she can only see blotches of ink on the page, so she pushes it aside. Diane picks it up and folds it when she understands it won't be used.
"I had notes, but I think if I read them it won't come out right.
" A few people in the room smile. Candela doesn't—because right now Kate Brogan looks to her as vulnerable as her sister did the day she sat down at the table and told the family she liked women.
"I've decided this is my last tournament.
When it's over here, I'm done. I'm retiring. "
The murmur in the room swells and falls like a wave, and the cameras start firing at her without mercy. Kate tries to hold herself upright, but eventually she drops her gaze and swallows before continuing.
"It's not a choice I made freely—it's a choice my body made for me.
My back has had enough, and I've decided to listen to it before it gets worse.
That's all I have to say, no drama." She says it as if she's trying to convince herself before anyone else.
"Well—okay, there's a little drama. Look at me.
" Kate points to her face, where her eyes are already filling up.
The room murmurs again and she hears a few words of encouragement.
"Kate, how long have you known? Is this a recent decision?" someone asks from the second row, hand raised.
"Yes, it's relatively recent, and I haven't had much time to process it yet. But here we are."
"We're really sorry to hear this, Kate. How has your family taken it?" another journalist asks.
"Better than I have." Kate smiles, and her warmth spreads across the whole room. "They're supportive and thrilled at the idea of me putting my health first—and hopefully spending more time at home."
The room laughs again.
"I imagine it must be very hard to sit up there and tell us this," someone else says.
And that's where Kate comes apart a little.
Her throat closes when she tries to answer, and what was supposed to be a full sentence turns into a broken sound that brings the whole room to silence.
She presses her knuckles to her mouth, looks up at the ceiling and blinks, and then Diane places a hand on her back and leans toward the microphone.
"She's trying," she says, swallowing her own grief. "Give her a second, please."
Diane moves her hand up her back, squeezes her shoulder, and Kate nods without looking at her as she tries to breathe slowly. When she feels ready to speak, the clarity of her voice surprises her.
"Sorry." She laughs at herself, wiping her eyes with her fingers.
"Ever since I made this decision, I've known I'd have to come in here at some point and say it out loud.
I was convinced I could do it—just say it straight through and walk out without any of you seeing me cry.
Turns out what I plan and what I actually do don't line up very well. "
The journalists smile, and again she hears words of support.
"To answer the question—yes, it's very hard to be sitting here saying goodbye to a sport I've loved for as long as I can remember. It's terrifying to let go of the only thing you know how to do, even when you know it's time."
"What are you going to miss most, Brogan?"
"Not this, that's for sure." She gestures at the cameras and the microphones, drawing another round of laughter.
"In all seriousness. I think what I'll miss most is the moment before.
The hallway before you walk out onto the court, when you can hear the crowd on the other side and you haven't done anything yet to deserve the applause.
It's a moment where everything is still possible.
I'll miss that, and I'll miss every person who's been part of this journey with me.
But above all, I'll miss this woman—who hasn't just been my coach, but a true friend and the greatest support anyone in my position could ever ask for. "
She turns suddenly to Diane and plants a loud kiss on her cheek.
"Diane—a few words?" someone calls out.
Diane, still moved by Kate's show of love, puts an arm around her waist and leans into the microphone.
"I wasn't supposed to be the one talking," she says, deadpan. "Or crying," she adds, wiping her eyes, and then sits back.
The room responds immediately with warmth, and the two of them look at each other and smile.
The next questions are about the diagnosis and how she's feeling right now. After that they get lighter—her best memory, the match she's most proud of, what she plans to do when it's all over.
"Honestly, I have no idea. I haven't had time to figure anything out yet. Maybe I'll learn to cook something that isn't just pasta," she jokes, getting more laughs. "Or I'll try this thing called actual rest and see how that goes."
Kate starts to relax, thinking there are no more curveballs left to take—but she's got one more coming.
"Brogan, if you make the final here, who would you want to play your last match against?"
"Honestly, I don't mind," she says, leaning back in her chair. "At this point I'm just focused on getting there. If I do with this back of mine, I'll have won no matter who's on the other side of the net."
"But wouldn't you want it to be against Leire Cobos? You've been rivals for a long time because you've always been so evenly matched. It would be the perfect ending."
Kate goes quiet. Not because she's weighing the answer—but because hearing Leire's name in a moment as raw as this one has knocked the air right out of her. She feels Diane's hand on her thigh, finding hers somewhere no one can see.
Kate breathes, several slow breaths, while the journalists use the silence as an excuse to take more photos.
"Leire Cobos," she says when she lifts her head, and then gives a half smile. "If you really want to see me retire happy, what you should be rooting for is someone I can actually beat—and Cobos, with that backhand of hers, is not on my list right now."
The room laughs again, and Kate uses the moment to lean back into the microphone and bring this to a close.
"And on that note, we're done. Thank you all for coming."
She stands before anyone can raise a hand. Diane rises with her, places a hand on the small of her back—right where it hurts—and guides her toward the door while the flashes follow them until they're out of sight.
When she gets back to her room to shower and get ready for her match, she gets a message from Leire.
"I watched it. You did really well and you were incredibly brave. I'm sorry I can't be there with you right now—or that I never was when you needed me. But I want you to know I'm so proud of you. You're the strongest woman I know. I love you."
Kate's eyes fill with tears all over again.