Page 38 of Love, Amy

I shrug a little, easy and brief, just like Amy the tennis player would. “Your choice got us here, so we can’t complain. Her choices got her the same life she’s always had.” And isn’t that unfair, I want to add. But I don’t. Beck nods thoughtfully, as though I’m speaking gospel. “The more you talk about her, the more relevance she has. Sara would tell you the same thing.”

Beck sighs, long-suffering. “I know. I just hate to let her win.”

I suppress an eye roll, patting him on the shoulder instead. “Why don’t you see if there’s a court that will take us early? Rafe and I are ready to go. I’ll follow you in a minute.”

Beck nods, his brain already circling back to how he’ll torture me in practice today. Those thoughts relieve his stress. Without another word to me, he heads out of the car towards a nervous Rafe, still waiting on the sidewalk. Beck claps Rafe on the shoulder, nodding towards Wimbledon’s entrance. Rafe’s nervous expression melts away, and he happily follows my father like the puppy-dog he is. I’m pretty sure that Rafe was so panicked he hardly noticed Aurelio with me earlier, but I’ll have to keep an eye on him.

I pull out my phone again. I hesitate a moment over the screen before finally clicking on her number. “Dinah (Mom)” is what her contact reads. The phone rings and rings as I chew my lip, wondering what to say. Unsurprisingly, I get her voicemail. Despite being a millennial, she seems allergic to talking on the phone. She loves sending a text with fifty emojis, though. When her voicemail beeps, I consider saying something, but I can’t decide on what.

You really hurt my feelings with that interview, Mom.

Hey, do you need some money?

Beck is furious, by the way. But that’s what you wanted, isn’t it?

I do know you, Mom. Don’t I?

I hang up without saying a word. Instead, I open up my texts and click on the thread with Aurelio. I falter a little when I see his contact looks a lot like my mom’s. No picture. No emoji. Instead, “Aurelio (Tennis)” is his only label. In a fit of frustration, I change his contact. I have a picture from the observatory where he’s looking up at the stars and add that to his contact. I change his name to “Aurelio” with an Eiffel tower and a sun emoji.

And then I shoot him a text.

Amy:

I’ll meet your family.

He must have been waiting for me to give an update, because he immediately replies.

Aurelio:

Are you okay? What was wrong?

I don’t want to burden him with more Beck drama. I’m afraid he’ll become tired of it. Or at least, tired with my involvement in it. I’m getting tired of it, too. I just need to make it through this tournament, and then in the break afterwards, Beck and I can have a real conversation. Instead, I smile as I text Aurelio back.

Amy:

But only if you win the whole tournament.

Aurelio’s response is quick.

Aurelio:

Game on, mia dolce.

Something lifts off my chest at his response, and I’m able to get out of the car.

CHAPTER 14

Wimbledon: June-July 2026

The night before the tournament begins and I play my first match, I tell my father, “I’m going to dinner with the girls.”

He turns to look at me from where he’s hunched over a computer watching film. It’s only 6 p.m., but he’s dressed for bed. I’m standing in the doorway between our rooms, wearing a red tennis dress with a bow in the back and huge platform white Nikes. My hair is slicked into a bun, and my numerous earrings jingle when I move my head. I’m clearly leaving my hotel room the night before a match, something my father has never seen me do before. His mouth falls open a little. “The girls?” He asks bewilderingly, taking off his reading glasses to see me clearly. “What girls?”

“A few of us WTA girls are celebrating the start of the tournament,” I say breezily. “I think Fernanda organized it.” I know she did, of course. She threatened to “strangle me with one of my visors” if I didn’t attend. I pretended reluctance, but I’m looking forward to it.

“Your match tomorrow—”

“Isn’t until the evening,” I interrupt cheerfully. “Glad we agree that this is the perfect time for a night out. I won’t have another chance once the tournament really gets going!”