My fingers were clasped so tightly together I’d lost circulation. Sweat pooled in my bra and under the band of my ball cap as the sun beat down relentlessly. I couldn’t imagine how hot these little athletes in front of us must be.
My eyes followed the little green ball as it bounced and flew from one side of the court to the other. It was the final match of the seven- and eight-year-old girls final tennis tournament, and Luna and Clara were playing her old tennis partner, Rachel, and the girl who Rachel asked to play doubles with over Luna, whose name I could never remember.
It was the final set, and if Rachel and her teammate won the next point, then they would win the match. Rachel served. The ball sailed over the net, bounced, and Clara returned it. Rachel’s partner hit it back after a bounce, sending it in Clara’s direction, to her nondominant side. I nearly covered my eyes with my hands. I said a silent prayer that those extra sessions with Jeremiah paid off. Clara cracked a perfect backhand, and I heard Jeremiah hiss, “Yes,” under his breath from beside me. I smirked briefly before the prickling anticipation resumed in my fingertips.
I’d been so impressed all game, all day. These girlswere eight years old and already so skilled—fast, accurate, agile. The instructors, some barely teenagers themselves, should be so proud.
Please let them miss it. But no, Rachel returned it again, lobbing it in Luna’s direction.
Oh no!It was high; it was going to go right over her head. And Clara was on the other side of the court. I sucked in a breath as Luna’s arm shot up. She spiked it down, hard and fast, right over the net.Yes!I started to lift out of my seat.No way they can return that, it’s too fast!Rachel and her partner and everyone in the bleachers watched the ball with rapt attention as it zoomed toward the back corner of the court.
And landed just outside the baseline.
No!My stomach dropped.
My gaze whipped to Luna. Racket hanging by her side, head drooped, her little lip trembled.
Shit. I couldn’t cry at a children’s tennis match, but boy did I want to. Luna worked so hard. She must be so disappointed. I looked at Luke. He was looking at his daughter, lips a thin line, expression inscrutable.
I turned my attention back to Luna as she lifted her head and walked to the net, shaking both Rachel’s and her partner’s hand, then embracing Clara.
“Alright, let’s go get her,” Luke sighed. He gave my thigh a quick squeeze before he stood up.
Luke, Jeremiah, Francesca, Clara’s mom, and I all approached the girls and helped them gather their things. Jeremiah told them how impressed he was and that he’d be honored to play more tennis with them next summer.
“You did amazing, Luna,” Luke said, clapping her on the shoulder.
“Thanks,” she said, sounding utterly defeated. She hugged Clara goodbye. The areas surrounding the court started to clear out and the three of us walked toward Luke’s car.
“Luke!” A man a little older than us jogged over from one of the other courts where a boys’ match was still underway.
“Hey, Jack. How’s it going?”
“Oh, good. Just watching Charlie’s final match. You up for a round of golf tomorrow? Tee time is at eleven. I have an extra spot.”
“Let me shoot you a text in an hour? I’ll check my schedule.”
“Sounds good.” Jack noticed me standing next to Luke and Luna. She was bouncing on her toes.
“Jack, you know my daughter, Luna. And this is Val, she’s…been helping me with Luna this summer.”
That introduction sliced through me like a paper cut. I schooled the hurt off my face and reached out to shake Jack’s hand. “Nice to meet you,” I said.Thank goodness for sunglasses.
“You too. Hey, I better catch the end of this match. I’ll look out for your text.” He turned and jogged away.
We continued toward the main building that stood between the courts and the parking lot.
“I’m sorry,” Luke said as soon as Luna was a few paces in front of us. He brushed the back of his fingers against mine.
“It’s fine. It’s true.” I forced a smile.
The truth was, I was hurt but I wasn’t actually mad at Luke. I didn’t know how I would have answered that question. He’d been amazing since our date—texting me good morning and good night every day, sneaking kisses and hand squeezes and other affectionate gestures whenever we had a moment alone.
We hadn’t told Luna yet, and it was clear to me he didn’t want her to see anything that confused her before we did. We just hadn’t talked about it. Maybe we needed to. I had no doubt we had feelings for each other. But what were we?
Luna climbed into the backseat of her dad’s truck. Luke and I both turned to look at her once we got in, A/C blasting through the vents. Luna looked out the window, eyes wide and shining. I felt her disappointment in my own body, like I was the one who lost something I’d been working toward.
“You did so great, Luns,” Luke said.
