Epilogue Jordan
Melbourne, January—Eighteen Months Later
This kid’s backhand was a bit shit, but he had the right attitude. I could work with that.
“Try it again, slower this time,” I said, stepping in beside him. “And bend your knees, mate. Your legs aren’t just there for decoration.”
I’d started helping Chris a couple of days a month, coaching masterclasses for some of the up-and-comers.
Figured I had the time now. Retirement hadn’t exactly been part of the plan, not this soon, but all good things came to an end, I supposed.
I tore my ACL during the US Open last year in New York.
Felt the bastard go, but played through it like an idiot.
By the time I got to Orla, the physio, the look on her face told me everything I needed to know.
So, one surgery later, I was back on a flight to Melbourne.
It was unexpected, sure. But devastating?
Not entirely. To be honest, it felt like life tapping me on the shoulder. Telling me it was time.
I’d taken it as far as I could. Won a few Grand Slams since meeting Kate. Had my name where I needed it to be.
To be honest, I always knew I was on borrowed time at my age.
And now I was too injured to play, too young to sit on my arse.
Even with two kids who kept me on my toes.
So here I was, passing my knowledge on to the next generation.
I’d also signed on with a couple of TV companies to run commentary for big tournaments in the next year.
Apparently, my Aussie charm wasn’t wasted on the viewers, so I got approached almost as soon as I announced my retirement.
The heat was building already, mid-morning and edging toward thirty degrees. The court baked under the sun. I squinted up toward the clubhouse, wiping sweat off my brow, just as I heard it.
“Daddy!”
Everything stopped.
I turned just in time to see Noah flying down the path in tiny trainers, arms wide, curls bouncing. Kate wasn’t far behind with our daughter, Stella, tucked against her chest in the carrier, a floppy sunhat falling over her forehead.
My son barrelled into me at full speed. I caught him easily, lifted him high and spun him once, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
“Hey, mate.” I grinned as he wrapped his arms around my neck. “Miss me?”
He nodded solemnly. “Mummy say I play.”
I snorted. “Yeah, you can play in a minute, mate. Let me just finish up.”
Kate reached us then, and just like always, like every damn time, my heart did that stupid clench thing. Even now, after everything. Two kids, a wedding, a thousand sleepless nights. She still did that to me.
We got married seven months after Noah was born in December.
It felt like the final piece, making her my wife.
We had this quiet little vineyard ceremony here in Melbourne.
Just us, close family, a few mates, and her parents.
No big pageant, just like she wanted. She hadn’t changed a bit since the day I met her. Honestly, it was perfect.
We threw a massive party afterwards, though.
I got her so drunk on red wine she couldn’t keep her hands off me.
That’s how we ended up with Stella nine months later.
People thought we were nuts having another baby so soon after Noah, but in all honesty, I think we both realised we weren’t getting any younger, and we knew we wanted to give him a sibling.
Coincidentally, Stella’s birth lined up with my injury. I flew home to rehab in Melbourne just in time, thank Christ, because she came like lightning. I delivered her myself. In the bloody bathroom. Whole thing was over in minutes.
Kate had gone full term this time, but been feeling off all morning. I’d sent her to run herself a bath, when all of a sudden, I heard her shout my name. And not in the Jordan you’ve left your underwear on the bathroom floor again way.
When I ran in, she was gripping the bathroom counter, knuckles white, panting, “It’s happening.
” One minute I was calling the midwife, the next minute I could already see her head coming out.
One push and she was here, like a rip current.
I’d played five-hour Grand Slam matches, but nothing came close to the adrenaline of catching my own kid.
And I swear, to this day, I get PTSD every time I use the bathroom.
Safe to say, after two pretty dramatic births, Kate and I are done.
Having another little one was different this time. I had more to give. To her. To the three of them. I think the universe needed me to slow down. So did Kate.
I glanced over at the kid I’d been coaching and raised my voice. “Let’s call it a day there, Sam. I’ll see you next week.”
Noah was still in my arms. I planted a kiss on Kate’s lips, then one on Stella’s head, who was still asleep.
“Teenagers keeping you on your toes?” she teased.
“Between him and these two?” I laughed. “I’ve got no hope.”
“Ready for lunch?”
“Mum say I get chippies,” Noah said, all innocent eyes and curls.
“Chippies it is then, mate.” I grinned as I slipped an arm around Kate’s waist, and we strolled toward the café near the courts.
We found a spot outside. I got Noah settled beside me with a colouring book and a pack of crayons, which he immediately took very seriously.
I don’t think Kate realised she was smiling. She was always smiling lately.
“You look good out here, you know?” I said, watching her across the table.
“I feel good out here,” she exhaled.
We’d bought a house just outside Melbourne before the wedding, something permanent for the off-seasons so that we had a proper base here and in Europe. I could tell she was finally at ease. At home. Like this was where she belonged.
She missed Gwen, of course. But Gwen came out when she could, brought the family, made it feel close again. So did her folks. And here, well, here she had my family. Our kids had cousins, grandparents, a backyard to run around in. A life I’d only ever dreamed of for them.
I’d made a decent fortune in my career. But Kate never cared about any of that.
All she ever wanted was us. A family who wanted her.
Needed her and loved her for who she was.
That’s exactly what she got from us. Despite having two under two and a husband that was never in the same city for more than a month, Kate thrived.
She was the most incredible mother to them both, had the patience of a saint with me when my playing days came to an end, and honestly, if I didn’t have her, I dread to think what kind of place my mind would be in right now.
I reached across the table and took her hand.
My wife. My world.
My daughter, fast asleep against her chest. My son, tongue out in concentration as he coloured a dinosaur bright blue.
And me sitting in the middle of all of it, thinking…
Yeah…Life looked pretty damn good from here.