He held her and kissed her cheek.
“Hey, älskling,” he said into the fine, soft hair at her temple.
Her response was just as quiet. Just as tentative. “Hi, Lucas.”
After claiming her hand in his, he led them both upstairs to his apartment. Neither of them said a word along the way. He waved her to his couch and offered her a drink, which she refused with a shake of her head.
She perched on the edge of the couch cushion, tired hazel eyes pleading as she looked up at him, hands twisting between her knees, and he didn’t want to wait any longer. Neither of them could withstand much more tension without breaking.
So he remained standing and took his shot. Again.
This time, prepared.
“Last night, I—” she began, and he didn’t let her finish.
“May I speak first?” Interrupting her was rude, but he didn’t want her to condemn them both to loneliness before he’d had the chance to change her mind. “Please?”
Her entire body stiff, she nodded. “Of course.”
He couldn’t tell whether she was braced for pain or poised for flight. Either way, her posture made his arms ache to hold her again.
“Today, I contacted the players’ association with a proposal. We haven’t worked out all the details, obviously, but I suggested a new partnership between the association and disadvantaged American schools. One created and coordinated by me.”
Her mouth had dropped open in shock, and he took a certain amount of pride in that. “It would involve players who live or train in the U.S. adopting certain schools and periodically visiting to give talks and mentor students. Interested kids in need would receive free tennis lessons and be given access to training facilities and necessary equipment. Funds would also be used to eliminate school lunch debts for everyone, not just students interested in tennis, because as you’ve told me, hungry kids can’t perform at their best. On court or off.”
He reached for the laptop on his coffee table and turned the screen to face her.
“Here’s the written proposal I sent them. It’s brief, but it’s a start.” A tap of the touchpad, and he flipped to another page of typed notes. “The money aspect might entail my having to set up a foundation and do some fundraising, but that’s workable. I’ve already contacted my lawyer and an accountant to look into everything I’d need to do.”
Her eyes were wide, stricken with so many emotions he couldn’t identify them all. But he definitely saw love there. Admiration. Maybe best of all: pride.
In him. He was making her proud. He was making himself proud again, at last.
“That’s…” Her twisting hands stilled. “That’s incredible.”
“Even if the association rejects the proposal, I’ll still adopt a school myself.” Another tap. The appropriate home page appeared, its banner image dominated by a three-cornered black hat. “Yourschool, Tess. Marysburg High School, home of the Fighting Tricornes. Which is a pitiful mascot, to be honest, but I suppose you can’t help that.”
“Lucas, I…” She shook her head, shock still parting her lush lips.
When she trailed off, he took advantage of her silence and continued. “I’m excited by the proposal, and I can’t wait to make it reality. So thank you for helping me stretch myself. Thank you for believing I had more to offer the world than just my skill with a racket.”
“Don’t thankme.” This time, her voice was steady. Resolute. “You’re the one who envisioned all this. I had nothing to do with it.”
His tone matched hers. “But without you, without what you’ve told me about your school and your students, the proposal never would have occurred to me. Without seeing you brainstorm and work out the logistics for your own ideas, I would have struggled more to put the proposal together. Without your love and encouragement, I wouldn’t have had the confidence to make all the phone calls and write all the letters and explain why I’m the right person to coordinate this kind of partnership.”
At the wordlove, she collapsed back into the couch, as if in need of its support.
“I understand the importance of your work, to you and your community. I see myself fitting into your life, your school, in various ways, including this one.” Sitting beside her, he pressed his hip to hers, allowing the contact to anchor him. “I clarified a few other things today too.”
She blinked at him. “Holy crackers.”
“Turns out, I actually know the coordinator of Marysburg University’s indoor tennis complex. It’s Sasha Kasterov, who played on the ATP Tour with me a few years back. Not a big name, but a good guy.” He took her hand in his, unable to tell whose was trembling more. “He doesn’t have a job opening right now, but he thinks he might in the spring. If he can get more sponsors and funding for the tournament, he’d like to hire someone to coordinate the event while he deals with the daily functioning of the facilities.”
“You would be amazing at that.” Her smile was shaky but genuine. “Then again, you’d be amazing at anything you chose to do, Lucas. You have to know that.”
Fuck. If she kept being so sweet, he wouldn’t be able to finish this without either kissing her or crying.
Squeezing her hand steadied him. “I volunteered to help him plan and promote the event this fall, so I can get a better sense of what the job would entail. But I think I would enjoy it, and I think it would suit my strengths. The ones you forced me to enumerate in detail, because you’re relentless and loving and fierce.” Unable to resist, he pressed a quick kiss to her soft lips. “In the meantime, he said he could hook me up with people who might want coaching from a former top-five player.”
